From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 37

**Storm Behind Sleeps by George Orwell 37**

**Chapter 1**

Olivia stood at the window, her gaze distant as her finger traced the outline of the screen. It had been three long years since she last touched that number, but now it felt like a lifeline she could no longer ignore. With a deep, steadying breath, she finally dialed the digits that had haunted her thoughts.

“Badge number 0719, Olivia Hayes,” she announced, her voice a blend of softness and steely resolve. “Mission complete. Requesting reinstatement.”

On the other end, a loud crash reverberated, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, as if the person had leapt to their feet in shock.

“Olivia?!” The voice erupted, almost a roar, filled with disbelief and a hint of anger. “You’re fucking alive?!”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Olivia’s lips, a small victory in this tense moment. “Yeah. I’m alive.”

His voice trembled, raw with emotion. “You vanished off the face of the earth after that undercover operation! We thought you were dead, Olivia! We even held a goddamn memorial for you! Where the hell have you been for three years?!”

She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle heavily on her chest. “Just experienced some amnesia. Working as a bodyguard.”

“For a drug lord.”

“Now,” she replied, her tone shifting to one of urgency, “it’s time to make the bust.”

Once, she had been a cop, deeply embedded in an undercover mission that had successfully dismantled a vast cartel. But during the final takedown, her identity had been compromised. The surviving members, fueled by vengeance, came after her with a ferocity that left her no choice but to flee.

On a night when the rain fell in torrents, she had burst through their encirclement, bloodied and battered, with cartel thugs hot on her heels.

Cornered, with nowhere left to escape, she stumbled directly in front of a sleek black Maybach.

The window slid down, revealing a face that was so strikingly handsome it felt almost surreal—

Alexander Pierce. The crown prince of D.C.’s elite, the man who commanded Pierce Industries. He was whispered to be cold-blooded and ruthless, yet every socialite in town yearned to be seen on his arm.

“Help me…” she had gasped, desperation lacing her voice.

Her blood-smeared fingers left a gruesome streak on the car door before darkness enveloped her entirely.

When she next opened her eyes, she found herself in an unfamiliar hospital room, surrounded by the sterile scent of antiseptic. Her mind was a blank canvas. She knew her name was Olivia Hayes, but the details of her life—where she came from, who she was, or if she had any family—were lost to her.

Standing over her bed was Alexander, his expression unreadable as he looked down at her. “Nowhere to go?”

She nodded slowly, the weight of uncertainty resting heavily on her shoulders.

“Stay with me,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

**11:03**

From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer: Smile, Ex

31.2%

**Chapter 1**

“I don’t take handouts,” she replied instinctively, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I can be your bodyguard.”

And just like that, she became Alexander’s shadow, a constant presence at his side.

That is, until that fateful drunken night. He had stared at her for an eternity, his gaze intense, before suddenly slamming her against the wall and kissing her with a fervor that took her breath away.

“Mr. Pierce…” Her heart raced, pounding against her ribs, yet she didn’t push him away.

“Don’t move,” he murmured, nipping at her earlobe, his voice a rough whisper. “Just for tonight.”

She had a nagging suspicion that she had never been with anyone before, yet his touch ignited something within her that she couldn’t resist. That night, she trembled and came undone beneath him, lost in a whirlwind of passion.

After that first encounter, there was a second, then a third.

In the penthouse office of Pierce Industries, pressed against the floor-to-ceiling glass, in the bathroom of his private jet, his hands gripping her hips as he took her again and again. Even in an underground parking garage, pinned against the car door, he claimed her as his own.

People in their social circle joked that if you wanted to learn the most scandalous positions, you simply had to stake out Pierce Tower, for the CEO was always finding new corners to press his bodyguard against, seeking new thrills.

She found herself sinking deeper into this chaotic arrangement, mistaking it for love.

Until Chloe Vaughn returned.

The woman who bore an unsettling resemblance to her—she was the one Alexander truly cared about.

In that moment, Olivia’s heart shattered. She was merely a placeholder, a stand-in for someone far more significant.

As memories flooded back, she remembered who she was and where she belonged.

She should have left immediately. But the Hayes family motto was unyielding: Repay every debt, then cut all ties.

To repay the debt for saving her life, she decided she would do one hundred things for Alexander.

As of today, she had completed ninety-six.

Just four more, and she would finally be free.

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, as if releasing the pent-up emotions that had been bottled up for far too long.

“I’m in D.C.,” she said into the phone. “Give me two weeks to wrap things up here, then I’ll be back.”

With that, Olivia hung up, determination coursing through her veins. Two weeks would be more than enough time to finish those last four tasks for Pierce.

“What’s happening in two weeks?”

The low, icy voice from behind sent a shiver down her spine. Olivia turned to see Alexander standing in the doorway, his presence commanding and intense.

**From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer: Smile, Ex**

**11:03**

31.3%

**Chapter 1**

He was dressed in a sharp black bespoke suit, a subtly patterned tie knotted perfectly at his throat. A slender, unlit cigarette rested between his long fingers, and his sharp, slightly upturned eyes narrowed with the intimidating aura of a man born to command.

“Nothing,” Olivia replied, quickly pocketing her phone, her heart racing slightly under his scrutinizing gaze. “Just scheduled a physical.”

Pierce didn’t press her further. Instead, he clamped a hand around her wrist, his grip firm. “Come with me.”

In the villa’s courtyard, Chloe stood a short distance away, her eyes slightly red-rimmed, clutching a thin safety rope. Spotting them, she hurried over, urgency etched on her face.

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