From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 76

**Chapter 9**

In my desperate attempt to keep pace with him, I pushed my limits until I shattered, spiraling into a chaotic hysteria that consumed me whole.

It was only after I extricated myself from that stifling atmosphere—after breaking free from Ryker’s suffocating grip—that I began to rediscover the fragments of my true self.

And now? I find myself thriving. I feel a genuine happiness coursing through me.

Fame, fortune, and Ryker—once the very things I thought I needed—have transformed into burdensome chains that I no longer wish to bear.

Yet when I spoke these honest sentiments to Nova, they landed on her ears like a gauntlet thrown down.

Even with her belly swollen from carrying our future, she reacted with a fury that caught me off guard. In a swift motion, she seized a vase from the table and hurled it in my direction.

Before I could react, Ryker intervened, stepping directly in front of me. The vase shattered against his temple, and crimson droplets began to trickle down his face, staining the pristine fabric of his white shirt with vivid, unsettling streaks.

Nova’s complexion drained of color, her bravado crumbling in an instant.

She recoiled, her hand trembling as she stammered, “Ryker… are you okay? I-I didn’t mean to—”

His voice cut through the air, cold and unyielding, infused with a barely contained rage. “I warned you.

Stay away from Allison. This is none of your concern.”

“Either you’ve forgotten what I’ve said, or you simply don’t care. Do you want me to remind you of the past?”

The same words echoed in the air between us.

The same threats, as familiar as an old, worn-out record.

After all these years, Ryker remained unchanged, a constant in a world that had turned upside down.

Nova believed that by lashing out at me, she had emerged victorious, that she had secured her place in Ryker’s world.

Little did she realize that in her quest for dominance, she had unwittingly sacrificed everything that mattered in her life.

In the beginning, Ryker had extended an olive branch to her, a glimmer of hope.

But that olive branch was nothing more than a gilded cage, enticing yet imprisoning.

Strip away the façade of upward mobility, and a single word from Ryker could send her tumbling back to the very place she had fought so hard to escape.

—

I didn’t waste my breath on futile arguments. Instead, I picked up my phone and dialed the police.

It felt like history was on repeat, a cruel echo of the past.

Only this time, the roles had reversed—Nova and I had swapped places.

She was now the paranoid, unstable wreck, grappling with the weight of her impending motherhood while desperately clinging to her crumbling position.

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