From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 69

**Chapter 2**

I found myself caught in the intensity of Stella’s gaze, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“But I’m still here, Stella. I don’t love him anymore—and I finally have real freedom,” I insisted, my voice trembling slightly as I met her astonished stare.

Under the relentless barrage of her questions, I sank into a chair, feeling the weight of my past pressing down on me. I began to recount the complicated tale of Ryker Robinson and the journey we had shared.

When I first crossed paths with Ryker, he was not yet the celebrated genius everyone would come to know. No, he was merely the troubled boy from the neighborhood—the one that others whispered about, the one who seemed to drift in and out of shadows, always alone, always peculiar.

No friends. No family.

His parents were embroiled in a bitter divorce, tossing him back and forth like a ragdoll neither wanted to keep. The Hartford winters were merciless, with a chill that seeped into your bones and made you feel as if you might never be warm again.

And there was Ryker, huddled in the stairwell of an abandoned building, dressed only in a thin long-sleeve shirt, his body shaking uncontrollably from the cold.

My heart ached for him. I couldn’t just walk past; I had to do something. So, I took him home, hoping that a little warmth and kindness could make a difference.

One fateful day, as we sat together playing games, my dad stumbled upon Ryker’s extraordinary gift for mathematics. It was as if a hidden door had swung open, revealing a world of possibilities.

From that moment, everything shifted dramatically.

By the age of ten, Ryker had won a national math competition. At fourteen, he was accepted into MIT, a feat that left everyone in awe.

And by sixteen, he published a groundbreaking paper that sent ripples through the academic community. Awards began to accumulate at such a dizzying pace that he struggled to keep track of them all.

Suddenly, those parents who had once turned their backs on him? They were now fighting tooth and nail for custody, desperate to claim the genius they had once neglected.

But Ryker? He chose not to return to them.

In a moment that still brings tears to my eyes, he knelt before my father, bowing his head so low it almost touched the ground. He repeated the gesture three times, a sign of deep respect and gratitude.

“I know who treated me right. I know who actually loved me,” he declared, voice steady but filled with emotion.

“From now on, you and Lucy are my real parents,” he proclaimed, determination shining in his eyes.

“I’ll take care of you both. And I’ll take care of Allison. I promise.”

From that day forward, Ryker’s ascent was unstoppable.

Yet, he never once left me behind.

When he received his acceptance letter from MIT, he didn’t just celebrate his own success; he fought to have me admitted as well, insisting that the school lower its standards to welcome me alongside him.

When he became a professor, he demanded they create a position specifically for me—a family hire, no questions asked.

I remember feeling a wave of anxiety wash over me, terrified that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with his brilliance.

But Ryker locked his gaze onto mine, his expression unwavering.

“When I was eight, my parents split. Neither of them wanted me,” he reminded me, his voice steady but tinged with the pain of his past.

“I sat alone in that stairwell from dusk until dawn. And you—you were the one who brought me home,” he continued, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“From that moment on, I swore I’d never leave you.”

“Allison, without you, I wouldn’t be who I am today. No matter how high I fly, I’m never letting you go.”

That was Ryker—steadfast and fiercely loyal.

Once he set his mind on something, he clung to it with an intensity that was both admirable and a little frightening.

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