Dearest readers. This is the most emotional chapter I have written for this book. Before I go on, do you think Amma has the right to be this way? Do you think Ignazio would be able to save Bella? And what more twist do you think is coming up? đâ¤ď¸
Epilogue. The Day His World Shifted The moment Ignazioâs phone rang, he knew. Before he even answered, a gut-wrenching feeling seized his chest, an instinct so primal it overrode everything else. The boardroom around him blurredâthe mahogany table, the men in crisp suits, the foreign investors who had flown in just for this meeting. The deal he had spent months preparing for, one that would add another mountain of wealth to his empire, suddenly meant nothing. Johnsonâs voice came through the speaker like a bullet to the heart. âItâs Bella. Sheâs in labor. Weâre on our way to the hospital.â For a split second, the world stopped spinning. And thenâchaos. Ignazio shoved back his chair so violently that it scraped against the marble floor. He yanked his suit jacket from the chair, already moving. The stunned silence in the room was deafening. His secretary blinked at him, eyes wide in disbelief. âCancel the meeting,â he ordered, his voice edged with finality. Her mouth fell open
Chapter 97.It's been three months of peace, and harmony with just Isabella and Ignazio in their own world. ******The world stilled the moment Isabella stepped into view.Ignazioâs breath caught in his throat as his gaze locked onto her, and for a moment, it felt as though time itself had bowed at her feet.She was a vision. A goddess dressed in white.Her wedding dress clung to her body like it had been spun from the stars, delicate lace wrapping around her curves with a softness that seemed almost unreal. The fitted bodice accentuated every inch of her femininity, and as the fabric flowed down in waves, it trailed behind her like a whisper of heaven.And her hairâGod, her hair.The deep burgundy strands cascaded down her back in thick, glossy waves, the color catching the golden light, painting her as something otherworldly. A delicate tiara rested atop her head, but nothingânothingâcould outshine the fierce glow in her eyes.She was the most beautiful thing Ignazio had ever seen.
Chapter 96.The moment Ignazioâs lips crashed against hers, Isabella felt herself shatter.His kiss wasnât gentle. It was hungry. Desperate. Consuming.He devoured her mouth, his tongue pushing past her lips, demanding control, owning her.Isabella whimpered against him, her hands threading through his jet-black hair, pulling him closerâharderâdeeper. She could taste the fire on his tongue, the raw possession in every movement.Ignazio groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her body, making her legs weaken beneath his hold.His handsârough, strong, familiarâgripped her waist and lifted her effortlessly, pressing her fully against the wall. She gasped into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, kissing her like a man who had been starving for her, dying for her, burning for her.Her nightgown had ridden up, baring the soft skin of her thighs. Ignazioâs fingers traced the exposed flesh, his touch searing, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.His lips broke away from hers
Chapter 95.Isabellaâs eyes fluttered open, the weight of exhaustion still pressing on her body. Her vision blurred for a moment before settling on the figure before her. Ignazio.He was sitting beside her, his fingers curled tightly around her hand, as if he feared letting go would mean losing her forever. His usually composed face was a wreck of emotionsâfear, regret, desperationâall bleeding through his dark, tormented eyes.At the sight of her waking up, he inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing.âPrincesss.âhe rasped, his voice raw, trembling with relief and something far deeperâsomething dangerously close to breaking.His hand shot up to her cheek, his touch hesitant at first, as if he feared she might disappear like a cruel illusion. âIâm sorry,â he whispered, though even he wasnât sure what he was apologizing for anymore. Was it for the blood on his hands? For dragging her into his world? For making her love him despite the darkness that surrounded him?Isabella didnât respo
Chapter 94. Isabella sat on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her body curled in on itself as if trying to shield her heart from the unbearable ache. The dim lighting of the room did nothing to ease the darkness that had settled within her. It had been three days. Three days of isolation. Three days without stepping beyond these walls. Three days of drowning in thoughts that tore her apart. Three days of nothing but disaster.Annaâs death lingered in her mind like a shadow, but the pain of Aunt Ammaâs death was a wound that bled deeper, cutting through her with a sharpness she hadnât anticipated. She had expected to hate her aunt. She had expected to be filled with nothing but loathing after discovering that the woman she once trusted had been the one who murdered her parents.But instead, there was only emptiness.She should have felt relief. She should have rejoiced that the person who had shattered her world was gone. Yet, her heart remained in turmoi
Chapter 93.The dungeon reeked of fear as it clung to the air like a thick fog, suffocating, inescapable. The walls, cold and damp, bore the silent screams of those who had begged for mercy and received none. The only sounds now were the slow, deliberate footsteps of Ignazio Vincenzo Thompson.He moved like a ghost, his presence commanding, his aura lethal. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the ember glowing like the fire raging in his soul. Smoke curled in the air as he exhaled, his stormy eyes locked onto the two figures bound to chairs in the center of the room.Anita.Denica.Two women who had played their part in destroying what little good was left in him.Anitaâhis ex-wife, the woman who once held his name, who once swore she loved himânot like he ever cared. The same woman who had, with a single message, shattered his world and Isabellaâs heart. The picture of their already-ended marriage. She had made sure Isabella saw it, twisted the knife, let her bleed.And Denicaâthe tra