Crazy but sweet

 JOLIE’S POV

 Something wasn’t right.

 Lola had been gone too long.

 I scanned the restaurant, my fingers tapping impatiently against the table. The waiter who spilled wine on her was nowhere to be found either. A sinking feeling settled in my gut.

 I pushed back my chair and got up. My eyes darted to the restroom hallway as I strode toward it, my pulse hammering.

 The ladies’ room door creaked slightly as I nudged it open.

 “Lola?” I called out.

 Silence.

 My chest tightened. I didn’t want to, but I stepped inside. My eyes flicked over each empty stall—nothing.

 Shit.

 I turned on my heel and stormed out. I needed answers.

 “Where’s your manager?” I barked at the nearest waiter. The kid paled, nodding rapidly before leading me to an office at the back.

 The manager stood as soon as I walked in. “Mr. Daviola, what’s the problem?”

 I didn’t have time for pleasantries. “My wife. A waiter spilled wine on her dress. She went to the restroom and never came back. Where the hell is she?”

 His brows knitted together in concern. “That’s troubling. Should we call the police, Mr. Daviola?”

 I clenched my jaw. “No. Find that waitress first.”

 The manager, aware of my influence, nodded hurriedly and grabbed a thick register. He flipped through pages covered in employee details.

 I leaned closer as he stopped at a page with pasted photos. My gaze locked onto a familiar face—blonde hair, sly smirk.

 I tapped her picture. “That’s her.”

 The manager flipped the page, revealing her details. “Her name is Milly Shark. Let me check with reception.”

 He dialed quickly. A brief exchange later, he turned back to me. “She left the building a while ago.”

 My fists clenched. That bitch left right after ruining Lola’s dress?

 I snatched the address off the register and strode out of the restaurant. My car’s GPS locked onto the location as I sped off, fury pulsing through my veins.

 How the hell had my secret guards missed this?

 Lola was missing.

 And I was going to tear this city apart to find her.

 ---

 BRIAN’S POV

 I slammed my fist onto the table, sending papers and glasses crashing to the floor. My whole body shook with rage.

 “What the hell do you mean, Lawyer Anderson?” I roared.

 The Daviola family’s lawyer adjusted his tie, completely unfazed. “Let me repeat myself since you seem to have lost your hearing,” he said smoothly. “Old Mr. Daviola’s will is very clear—if anything happens to Lola before she gives birth, Jolie’s inheritance will be revoked. His grandfather will seize control and redistribute it however he sees fit. That could mean charity, another family member… anyone but you.”

 I gritted my teeth. “So, killing her doesn’t help me?”

 “No. In fact, it ensures you get nothing,” Anderson replied, his smirk infuriating.

 My breathing turned ragged. I had worked too damn hard to be cast aside like some stray dog. I had been the closest to the Daviolas. My grandfather had trusted them with me.

 And now… nothing?

 My hands curled into fists. “Then I’ll kill her anyway. If I can’t have the wealth, no one will. I’ll burn everything to the ground if I have to.”

 Anderson sighed, shaking his head. “The truth is, Brian, if you wanted their wealth so badly, you should’ve handled your own inheritance wisely. Your grandfather left you plenty. You had every opportunity to invest, but you squandered it.”

 I whipped around and hurled the nearest glass at the wall. It shattered, pieces raining onto the floor like my crumbling patience.

 Anderson merely smirked. Bastard.

 I stormed into the next room, where Lola lay motionless on the bed. The hired doctor stood by her side, a syringe in his gloved hand.

 “Don’t do this, Brian,” Anderson said behind me, his voice oddly calm. “Pity her.”

 I scoffed. “Pity? After the humiliation I suffered? After he humiliated me for her?”

 I clenched my fists, the memory of Jolie beating me to a pulp flashing before my eyes.

 My rage burned hotter.

 I turned to the doctor, my voice low and lethal. “Give her the dose.”

 The doctor nodded, pulling a vial from his kit. He filled the syringe carefully, the clear liquid glinting under the dim light.

 As he injected it into Lola’s veins, a twisted sense of satisfaction coiled in my chest.

 I could watch this over and over again.

 And maybe—I would.

 ---

 MILLY’S POV

 I counted the crisp bills in my hand, my fingers trembling slightly. Damn, that man had paid me well.

 But something gnawed at my gut.

 I never realized I was messing with Jolie Daviola until I got to the table. The moment he spoke, I had nearly lost my damn mind.

 I got lucky—I spilled the wine and got the hell out of there.

 And now? I needed to vanish. Lay low for a few months, maybe head back to my hometown—

 BAM!

 The door to my apartment exploded open.

 I shrieked, spinning around just in time to see him.

 Jolie Daviola.

 Standing in my doorway.

 With five men in black.

 My breath hitched. My mind raced. How the hell had I not heard him arrive?

 I could have escaped through the back. Shit, shit, shit!

 Jolie stepped inside, slow and deliberate, his dark gaze burning through me.

 I swallowed hard.

 “I’ll only ask once,” he said, his voice colder than death itself. “Where. Is. My. Wife?”

 My heart slammed against my ribs.

 I shoved the money into my back pocket and squared my shoulders. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 SMACK!

 A brutal slap sent me crashing to the ground.

 Pain exploded across my cheek. My ears rang. Oh God, what just happened?

 One of his men had hit me. And Jolie hadn’t even lifted a finger.

 Tears welled in my eyes as I touched my burning cheek.

 “I told you—I won’t ask twice,” Jolie said, his voice a terrifying whisper.

 I choked on a sob. “I swear, I don’t know! I was just paid to spill the drink! That’s it! The man who hired me—he was tall, wearing a disguise! Please, I don’t know anything else!”

 Silence.

 Jolie stared at me, and I could feel him calculating, deciding my fate in real-time.

 I trembled.

 Then, finally, he spo

ke.

 “Search the place.”

 His men scattered instantly.

 I curled into myself, praying they wouldn’t find anything.

 Praying I’d live to see tomorrow.

 Because if Jolie Daviola didn’t like what he found—

 I was as good as dead.