Chapter 29 Chapter 29 What is This News?
Gabriel’s POV
“What the hell?” I exclaimed, my voice trembling as I stared at the screen.
“Is this a sign?” My chest tightened, my heart pounding.
“Am I being punished by the universe? Why? Why is my life crumbling, unravelling, and spiralling into chaos—all in a single moment?”
"Maybe... maybe I need to confess to a priest.” The thought clawed its way into my mind—a desperate plea for redemption. “Maybe his faith might persuade God to forgive me?” I whispered, clinging to the idea as if it were my last lifeline.
No one knew this, but I worked so hard—too hard—to make sure Diana’s Fashion Store went bankrupt over the past two decades. It was me. I was the one who planted false rumours, tarnishing their name in the media under an anonymous guise. That’s why customers abandoned her and came to me instead.
It worked flawlessly. For years, I thrived. And now, after all this time, she managed to reopen her store and compete with me when I was going through a bad phase in my business and general life at once?
I rose to my feet immediately and turned off the TV. Seeing this bad news will only make me die faster.
“Perhaps I just need to believe everything will be fine. Maybe it is just fair competition, and I need not worry about it,” I said to myself as I went to the room to catch some sleep.
Tomorrow was going to be another day—another day to strategize again.
Right on the bed, Emmanuella was in her nightwear. Her buttocks were obvious since her nightie was short.
Her eyes lingered on me as she smirked, but I wasn’t looking at that. Clearly, she had seen the news, and she decided to taunt me with it again.
Business was not fine, my mental health was not balanced, and there she was, making this marriage a living hell.
Once I got on the bed and covered myself with a blanket, she pushed the blanket away from me, scoffing loudly, like she wanted me to hear her at all costs.
“Well, this is it,” I thought to myself and rose to my feet.
There was no need to pass through all of this with her. I wore my slippers and decided to go back to the living room.
“Stop right there,” she commanded, and I froze.
She had total control of my life, and I regretted that she knew my secret. If I refused to cooperate, I bet she was only a call away from 911.
“Sit down!” she ordered.
I sat at the edge of the bed, my gaze fixed on the wall as if the wall were her face. I frowned, my eyes rigid.
Just then, she crawled to my side of the bed and climbed down.
“Don’t you think you need to ease yourself of your emotions?” she said, smiling like a cat.
But her smile was empty. I could see the contempt, the everything—but I couldn’t voice it, not when she knew what I needed to conceal.
She pulled the strap of her nightie down at this moment. Her tender breasts and hard nipples were exposed.
I had never felt more unenthusiastic than I felt at this moment. But could I do anything?
She curved her hand around mine and pulled me toward her right breast.
“Suck,” she ordered, lifting her neck as she let out a sweet moan before I even started.
Like she ordered, I couldn’t disobey. Even though I was disinterested, I couldn’t voice it. I stuck out my tongue and began to suck her nipple gently.
More sweet moans escaped her lips as she clutched my head to her breast so hard that it was difficult for me to breathe.
“Fondle the other one and keep sucking,” she ordered. I obeyed, and she continued to moan.
Nevertheless, my thoughts weren’t here. I was already picturing myself in the office, fixing my plummeting sales and finally achieving the best sales of the year.
Suddenly, she released my hand and smiled at me. Though I didn’t say anything, she shushed my mouth with her finger and pushed me onto the bed.
Jumping back on the bed, she unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants.
“What?” She exclaimed, seeing how shrunken my dk was.
“Well, make it stand. I want you to fk me right now!” she commanded.
I sat upright on the bed as she climbed down, standing rigidly before me. Her smile had vanished, replaced by an angry glare. She tapped her foot impatiently, her hands on her waist, as if counting down for me.
Seeing this, I took my palm to my dk and folded my fingers around it. In a gentle motion, I began to stroke it up and down. I closed my eyes, forcing emotions to come to me, willing it to stand despite the trouble in my heart.
Ten seconds passed, then a minute, and five minutes were closing in, yet it remained cold and shrivelled like a squeezed nylon bag. It was as if I’d been declared impotent. Beads of sweat covered my face.
“Just forget it!” Emmanuella hissed, covering herself in her nightie. She moved toward her phone on the stool by her side of the bed.
“What are you going to do?” I asked hurriedly, my voice lined with fear.
“Don’t worry. I won’t report you today,” she smirked and lay on her side of the bed, texting people on WhatsApp as I sneakily peeped at her screen.
“You owe me,” she said suddenly.
“Get me a new ride tomorrow. My car is old.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “What do you mean? That car isn’t even six months old!”
“I don’t care if it’s six months or six hours. I said I want a new car, and that’s final! If you don’t do it, fine!” Her voice was sharp.
“I know what to do,” she threatened.
“I’ll get it,” I surrendered immediately.
Getting a new car for her was better than going to jail.