LOGIN“I will take my revenge on you Daemon, I will make you pay for everything you did to me!” …. When Elena Royal, a rich heiress awakens from her four-year coma with no recollection of her past, she is forced to rely on the kindness of a stranger— the enigmatic and handsome Alexander Bianchi. In exchange for his help, Elena agrees to a contract marriage with Alexander, unaware she just married the Don of the most powerful and dangerous Mafia family. As Elena struggles to regain her memory and navigate the new reality of being a Don’s wife; she is confronted with secrets, betrayal, and her Ex-Husband. When her memories return, Elena is hell-bent on taking her revenge. Will Elena’s thirst for revenge consume her or can Alexander’s love overpower her need for revenge?
View MoreELENA POV The office feels colder tonight. Papers spread across the desk, printouts, screenshots, copies of old hospital records Marco helped me track down. My hands shake as I read each page. The deeper I dig, the sicker I feel. Ava. My daughter. It feels unreal even thinking the word in my head. I trace the name on the forged birth certificate, the signature that isn’t mine. The date that matches my coma, the months I don’t remember. And then the truth unfurls, page by awful page. The inheritance. They needed my child alive to claim it. My grandfather, the man whose face I barely remember, had known. He kept me and the baby alive as long as he could. The baby was born early, tiny, fighting. And then… he died. A car accident, they said. The file hints at sabotage. Another piece of the puzzle I never saw. After that, they took Ava. Daemon and Rachel. And when they had what they wanted, they ordered me dead. A final line in a hospital report, signed by a doctor who refuse
ELENA POV I never thought the silence after a confession could feel like this. Warm. Steady. Like the hush of something finally falling into place. I wake tangled in Alex’s arms. His chest rises and falls under my cheek, slow and deep. I almost don’t want to move. But his fingers brush against my spine, light as a sigh. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, voice still rough from sleep. “Barely,” I whisper, pressing a small kiss to his collarbone. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” “You were exhausted,” he says, shifting slightly so he can look at me. “Not that I blame you after what we… did.” His smirk is soft, teasing, but there’s something vulnerable behind it too. I trace the edge of his jaw. “Alex?” “Hmm?” “I still need to finish what I started,” I admit, the words catching on my tongue. “About them. About what they did to me.” His expression darkens, but he doesn’t pull away. “You’re not doing it alone.” It’s strange, sharing the weight. I’ve spent weeks lying, hiding piec
ELENA POV It’s strange how quiet the mansion feels now. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but something sharp and cold, like a house waiting for a storm that never comes. We barely speak. When we do, it’s about nothing: dinner, schedules, meetings. The important words sit between us, heavy and silent. At night, I hear him on the other side of the bed, so close I could reach out and touch him. But I don’t and he doesn’t, either. It’s worse than fighting. Worse than yelling. It feels like drowning in air. One morning, I walk into the dining room to see him laughing quietly at something Sophia says. The sound freezes me in the doorway. God, it’s stupid how something so small can stab straight through my chest. I sit down, trying to look bored, but my heart hammers. He barely glances at me, nods, and goes back to his coffee. Later that afternoon, I see him again, outside, by the cars, talking to a woman in a tight black dress. Her laugh is too loud. Her hand lingers on hi
ELENA POV It’s late when I find him.The house is too big, too silent. My footsteps echo on marble floors as I move past darkened rooms, every breath tight in my chest. I finally see him on the balcony outside his study. His back to me, one hand braced on the railing, the city lights painting him in gold and shadow. For a moment, I almost turn around and walk away. But I don’t. “Alex,” I say, my voice coming out softer than I mean. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t turn. Just stays there, shoulders rigid, staring out over the gardens. “I know you’re angry,” I begin, each word feeling heavier than the last. “But we can talk about this. Please.” He exhales, the sound harsh, tired. “Talk?” he repeats. “About what, Elena? How you lied to me? Lied to everyone?” My throat burns. “I had to,” I whisper. “You don’t understand—” “Then make me understand,” he cuts in, his voice raw but quiet. “Tell me why. Tell me why the woman I risked everything for looked me in the eye and chose to keep secr
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