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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE : JEALOUS HUSBAND

作者: Nathy Fiverr
last update 公開日: 2025-07-25 21:01:02

Lorenzo's family house was gigantic in itself. It was one of the largest buildings that Natalie had ever seen. She had arrived at the event with Lorenzo. Riding with him in the same car. Anita had stayed back since it was a family stuff. She held her gift tightly. Her off-shoulder dress hugged her tightly. Anita had helped her pick it out. Heads turned as she made her way to the front seats, Lorenzo's hand in hers loosely joined together.

Whispers flew everywhere around her she knew that were
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  • The Devil Who Bought Me    Chapter Eighty-Seven : Sophia Carreti

    She found Lucian in the garage.He was standing beside his car with his keys in his hand and a bag at his feet, the kind of bag that said he had already made a decision before she got there. He looked up when he heard her footsteps and something in his expression settled, not relief, not quite. The look of a man who had been waiting without knowing he was waiting."You're leaving," she said."Thought it was best," he said.She looked at the bag. Then at him."Lorenzo asked you to go," she said. Not accusatory. Just placing it."Lorenzo didn't have to," he said. "I was there, Natalie. I saw his face in that doorway." He turned the keys over in his hand once. "There are things you do to people you love without meaning to and there are things you do knowing exactly what they'll cost. Last night was the second kind." He looked at her. "I'm not going to keep costing him things."She stood with that for a moment."Where will you go?" she asked."I have a place," he said. "I'll be fine. I'm

  • The Devil Who Bought Me    Chapter Eighty-Six : Jealous Husband

    Dinner was a performance.That was the only word for it. Two people seated across a table, passing dishes, pouring water, existing in the same room with the practiced ease of people who had done this many times except that tonight something sat between them that neither of them named, a presence as real as a third person at the table, eating all the food and saying nothing.Lorenzo was courteous.That was the worst part.Not cold in the obvious way, not clipped or short or visibly withdrawn. He asked her how her afternoon had been. He mentioned something Anita had sent over about the shop. He refilled her glass without being asked. Every gesture was exactly what it should have been and not one degree warmer, and she sat across from him and felt the distance like a physical thing, like a drop in temperature in a room where the windows hadn't moved.She had tried to speak to him on the stairs.She had caught him in the hallway before dinner and said his name and he had turned and looked

  • The Devil Who Bought Me    Chapter Eighty-Five: His brother wants me.

    Her little nemesis found her , or rather she found him in the library.He was actually reading, legs stretched out on the old leather sofa near the window, a book open across his chest, the afternoon light falling across him in the particular lazy way it did in that room at that hour. He looked unbothered. Comfortable. Like a man with nothing on his conscience and nowhere pressing to be.She had always found that quality in him disarming.Today it just made her tired."Lucian," she said.He looked up. Saw her face. Closed the book."You look like you've had a day," he said."Several," she said. She came and sat in the armchair across from him not close, not pointed, just the nearest available seat. She had told herself on the way down the stairs that this would be a simple conversation. Necessary but simple. She would say what needed saying and he would hear it and that would be that.She was already sensing it wasn't going to be that."I need to talk to you about something," she said

  • The Devil Who Bought Me    Chapter Eighty- Four: The silence between Them

    Lorenzo told her everything in the kitchen. Not in the study where strategy lived. Not at the long table covered in files and photographs and carefully organized plans. The kitchen. Morning light spilled through the windows, pale and quiet. A cup of coffee sat untouched between them, already going cold. Somewhere outside, gravel shifted softly beneath the gardener’s rake. Ordinary sounds. Ordinary light. And then Lorenzo told her that Viktor knew she was the witness. Not recently. Not because of some mistake they’d made. He had always known. Natalie stared at him without speaking as the words settled heavily into the room. But it was the next part that changed everything. Lorenzo told her he had known too. Before the wedding. Before the contract. Before she ever stepped into this house. The reason he had taken her away from Viktor Roman on what was supposed to have been her wedding day had never been convenience or business or even strategy. It had bee

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    The call came on a Friday morning while Lorenzo was shaving.Later, when Natalie tried to remember that day, that was the detail that stayed with her most vividly. Not the conversation itself. Not even what came after.Just the ordinary beginning of it.Lorenzo standing at the bathroom mirror with one sleeve rolled up, jaw tilted slightly as he dragged the razor down his face. Morning light spilling across the tiles. The soft hum of the house waking up around them. A completely normal morning.And then his phone lit up on the counter.She was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on her shoes, when she noticed him stop.Not dramatically. Just… still.His hand hovered for half a second before he picked up the phone and looked at the screen.“Viktor,” he said.His voice didn’t change at all.That was what unsettled her most.No tension. No surprise. No hesitation. Just the same calm tone he used for everything else, as though the name had cost him nothing to say.Natalie had learned b

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    The thing about fire was that it didn't announce itself. It didn't send word ahead. Didn't knock. Didn't give you the courtesy of preparation. It simply appeared in the smallest, most ordinary place, a curtain hem, a forgotten candle, a wire that had been fraying quietly for years and by the time you smelled the smoke, it had already decided how much of your life it intended to take. Esmeralda had always understood this. It was, in fact, the principle she had built her entire strategy upon. --- The story appeared on a Tuesday. Not a major publication she wasn't ready to go that large yet, didn't want the kind of scrutiny that came with size. A mid-tier gossip platform, the sort that dealt in implication rather than fact, in the carefully worded suggestion rather than the outright claim. The kind of place that understood how to say something devastating while technically saying nothing at all. The headline was brief. *Questions Around De Luca Bride's Past: Sources Speak.* Bel

  • The Devil Who Bought Me    Chapter Eighty-One : The Call she didn't Expect

    She had expected the call.What she hadn't expected was how it would feel to hear Isabella's voice crack at the edges — that thin, barely-there fracture in a woman who had spent years perfecting the art of having no edges at all. Isabella had always been smooth. Composed in the particular way of pe

  • The Devil Who Bought Me    Chapter Eighty- Isabella's Doubt

    Fear had a smell.Isabella had learned that young. It smelled like her mother's perfume at three in the morning — that particular blend of jasmine and something sharper underneath, something chemical and anxious that no expensive bottle could entirely mask. It smelled like hushed phone calls and lo

  • The Devil Who Bought Me    Chapter Seventy-Eight : Friendships comes with Masks

    Fiona was good at pretending.Natalie had to give her that much.She watched her from across the office floor — the way she walked, unhurried, with that easy confidence of someone who believed they were untouchable. The way she laughed at something one of the junior staff said, head thrown back, ha

  • The Devil Who Bought Me    Chapter Seventy-seven : Waves of betrayal

    Two days later, Lorenzo came back and she showed him the video, Anita had sent to her. The footage was grainy in the way that cheap cameras always were, but it was clear enough. Clear enough to see her aunt lift her glass. Clear enough to see the wide, unguarded smile that spread across her face

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