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Author: Ilma
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-05-23 23:28:45

### Chapter 43: Structural Integrity

**Irene**

My emotional firewall hadn’t just experienced a minor glitch; it had suffered a catastrophic grid failure.

For five years, that system had been flawless. It had survived family dinners, shared holiday toasts, and endless weekends of watching Romeo Rossi exist in my peripheral vision without a single breach. But apparently, all it took to trigger a complete meltdown was a plastic toy, the scent of expensive cedarwood, and a pair of hazel eyes burnin
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  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   Private

    ### Chapter 43: Structural Integrity**Irene**My emotional firewall hadn’t just experienced a minor glitch; it had suffered a catastrophic grid failure.For five years, that system had been flawless. It had survived family dinners, shared holiday toasts, and endless weekends of watching Romeo Rossi exist in my peripheral vision without a single breach. But apparently, all it took to trigger a complete meltdown was a plastic toy, the scent of expensive cedarwood, and a pair of hazel eyes burning a hole straight through my carefully constructed armor.*Terminal.*God, why did I say that out loud? I needed to ban myself from speaking under the influence of his proximity.Fortunately, when you are dealing with a five-year-old Galante, you don't have time to dwell on your near-fatal lapses in judgment. Elara was already demanding a secondary diagnosis."Auntie Ren," Elara protested, stamping her tiny sneaker onto the woven blanket. "If Zio Romeo is fine, why is his face so red? Is he turn

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   Terminal

    RomeoIt happened on a Sunday afternoon in the Borghese Gardens.The kind of day that makes Rome feel deceptively harmless. Late spring sunlight filtering through the tall stone pines, scattering gold across the grass in soft, trembling patches. The air carried the smell of crushed leaves, distant espresso, and river wind.Dante and Isabella had wandered off toward the fountains with the kind of casual negligence only parents of a highly confident child could afford. That left Irene and me on a wide woven blanket with Elara.“Zio Romeo.” Elara announced, as if issuing a court summons.She dropped a plastic, aggressively colorful stethoscope onto my chest with zero regard for consent or medical ethics.“You are sick.” she declared. “Zia Ren is the doctor today. You have to lie still.”I looked up slowly.Irene was sitting cross-legged on the blanket, sunlight catching in her dark hair. She wore a thin white linen sundress that made absolutely no effort to protect my sanity and a smea

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   We were safe now

    Romeo By year two, the boundaries had not dissolved.But they had softened into something survivable.We started meeting outside the fortress of the penthouse.Never formally. Never intentionally.Just a long chain of engineered coincidences neither of us acknowledged.I would “accidentally” appear at the café near her architecture firm every Tuesday around four-thirty.She would “coincidentally” already be seated there with an espresso and a pastry she claimed she wasn’t going to finish.We always sat at separate tables.But our conversations drifted easily across the narrow aisle between us like sunlight stretching across stone.“The junior architect with the navy obsession…” I said one afternoon, leaning back in my chair with an espresso balanced between my fingers. “Is he still attempting to negotiate your caloric intake?”Irene snorted into her cappuccino. “Luca? No. Luca got promoted and moved to Florence.”“A statistically intelligent relocation.”“He realized trying to date a

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   The boundary

    RomeoIn medicine, the Apgar score is calculated at one minute and five minutes after birth.It measures adaptation.It evaluates how successfully a newborn transitions from the pressurized, fluid certainty of the womb into the violent unpredictability of the outside world. Heart rate. Reflexes. Respiration. Color. Survival reduced to a numerical baseline.Most humans stabilize within five minutes.Our transition took five years.And somehow, against every law of probability I respected, we survived it.The catalyst for our new baseline arrived exactly three weeks after the night on the Tiber riverbank.Isabella’s labor began on a random day. Oh, we found that Alessia was not Alessia. Alessia was Isabella. A woman who faked her death to escape her stupid husband.Well, Isabella’s delivery was not calm. Nothing involving a Galante ever is.And through all of it, I remained exactly what I had always been.Precise. Useful.The little Galante entered the world on a rain-soaked Tuesday mo

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   Every person has a locked room

    Irene“Rule number two…” I continued. “Normal friends use WhatsApp, Romeo.”He took another cautious bite of pizza. “Define normal.”“Normal people send texts…” I explained. “Maybe a meme. Maybe a mildly aggressive sticker. They do not hack smart-home security systems and triangulate cellular tower radiuses to locate each other like emotionally unstable Batman villains.”That tiny crack in his composure widened slightly.A real smile ghosted briefly across his mouth. It transformed him in a way that felt actively unfair to women everywhere.Exhaustion still shadowed his face. The bruised hollows beneath his eyes remained. But without the rigid Galante control locking every feature into place, he looked younger.“I will try to integrate standard messaging protocols into my routine.” He replied.“Thank you.”“Though…” He added, lifting one arrogant eyebrow slightly, “I think my method was significantly more efficient.”I stared at him in disbelief. “Your method is illegal in at least tw

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   Friendship

    Irene“Sit down, Romeo.”The relief that moved across his face hit me like physical impact.It was subtle. But devastating.“You look like you are about three seconds away from collapsing into the river from adrenaline withdrawal…” I added. “And I really don’t want to perform CPR on a world-famous surgeon. The irony would kill me.”He obeyed immediately, carefully maintaining the exact distance he promised.Three feet. No touching. No reaching. No manipulation.He just sat beside me on the cold stone ledge and stared quietly out at the black river water.The tension in his body slowly began to unravel centimeter by centimeter.I took another sip of beer and studied his profile beneath the amber glow of the streetlamp.The sharp nose. The exhausted eyes. The terrifying restraint.The line had been drawn. The silent treaty had been signed. The non-aggression pact was officially in effect.And as the Tiber rushed beneath us in the dark, one horrifying realization settled heavily into my

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   About last night

    Isabella’s POV Romeo drove the car into the loading bay of the warehouse. "Stay here." He ordered after killing the engine. "I mean it. I am going to check first." He got out. I waited exactly ten seconds before I opened the door. The warehouse smelled of rust and oil. It was huge, dark, and

    last updateHuling Na-update : 2026-03-20

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   32 Files Found

    Isabella’s POV "Go lay down." Romeo said as we stepped into the foyer of the penthouse. "Don’t faint." "I am fine, Romeo. I just want to change." "Fine." He sighed, hands on his hips. "I will need to go to the clinic. I will leave Irene with you. If I hear anything from her, I am coming in with a

    last updateHuling Na-update : 2026-03-20

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   Another man.. I need to forget

    Isabella’s POVDante who was confused by my sudden response, raised a brow. "About the Panama lead? Michele is already running algorithms on…""No.” I cut him off. Frustration was building up inside me. "About last night."His jaw tightened. A muscle feathered in his cheek. He looked at me with bla

    last updateHuling Na-update : 2026-03-20

  • I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband   The Galante Estate

    Isabella’s POVDante walked in. He had changed into a black tuxedo. He stepped into the room, keeping his hands inside his pockets. Spotting me, his eyes traveled from the hem of my dress, over my pregnancy bump, and stopped at my face."Is it... too much?" I asked. I was suddenly feeling self-con

    last updateHuling Na-update : 2026-03-19
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