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Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen : One Last Night
Last Updated:
2026-01-19 16:05:00
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The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three : The Reign of Ash
(Alessandro’s POV) The Citadel was silent, a vast, echoing tomb, and the silence pressed in on me, a heavy blanket woven from betrayal and a cold, profound emptiness. I stood in the library, the room that had felt like the heart of our new world just yesterday, now it was just a room, cold and meaningless. The massive mahogany table was still scattered with her plans, with the samples of lace and fabric for a wedding that felt like a story from someone else's life, a cruel joke played by a merciless fate. I picked up one of the creamy white invitations, its elegant script mocking me, and my hand was perfectly steady, my expression perfectly blank. Inside, where my heart should have been beating with grief or rage, there was nothing, just a cold, hollow, and endless void. She had not just broken my heart, she had ripped it out, taking the man I was becoming with her, leaving only the ashes, the cold, dead ashes of the king I thought I had escaped. The King of Ashes was back on
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two: The Return of Ash
(Alessandro’s POV) The Citadel was silent, a vast, echoing tomb, and the silence was a suffocating, heavy blanket. I stood in the library, the room that had, just yesterday, been filled with her laughter, her light, her life. Now, the massive mahogany table was still covered in her plans, in the samples of lace and the swatches of color for a wedding that would never happen, for a life that was now a bitter, cruel joke. I picked up a piece of creamy cardstock, an invitation, and my hand was perfectly steady, my expression perfectly blank. Inside, my soul was not screaming, nor was it crying, it was just… gone. There was nothing left but a cold, hollow, and endless void, a black hole where my heart used to be. She had not just broken my heart, she had taken it with her, leaving only the ashes of the man I had foolishly allowed myself to become. The King of Ashes was back on his throne, and his reign would be one of cold, silent, and terrible precision. "Sir," Anya's voice cam
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One : A Gilded Cage
(Isabella’s POV) I was numb, a hollow, walking shell, as I allowed two silent guards to lead me to the elevator. I did not fight, nor did I cry, for all my tears had turned to a cold, thick dread in my throat. Lucian walked beside me, his face a mask of profound, weary sadness, and his refusal to meet my eyes was a judgment far worse than my mother's anger or Alessandro's rage. He, the man of wisdom, the man who had begun to look at me with something like respect, now saw me as a poison, a danger that had finally, fatally, wounded his king. The ride down from the penthouse, a journey I had taken so many times, felt different, each floor we passed a descent into a new kind of hell. The Citadel, once my fortress and my home, had become my prison, and now, I was being transferred to a different, more remote cell. We walked through the silent, cavernous garage, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the empty space, and a black, armored sedan was waiting, its engine a low, quiet ru
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: The Sound of a Closing Door
(Isabella’s POV) I stood there, frozen, as the echo of his footsteps faded down the hall, each one a hammer blow against my heart. The heavy, polished door to his bedroom clicked shut, and the sound was not a slam of anger, but a quiet, cold, and final sound of a vault being sealed. The man I had kissed this morning, the man I was supposed to marry today, was gone, and in his place, the King of Ashes had returned, colder and more terrifying than ever. “No,” I whispered, the word a small, broken sound in the vast, silent penthouse. The guards were still standing by the entrance, their faces carefully blank, but their eyes were new. They were cold. A moment ago, I was their queen, but now I was a liar, a spy, an enemy who had slept in their king's bed. I was alone, trapped in the ruins of the life I had destroyed. “Alessandro!” I ran to the door, my hands hitting the solid, unforgiving wood. “Alessandro, please!” I pressed my forehead against the cold surface, the tears I ha
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen : The Queen of Nothing
(Isabella’s POV) The sound of his footsteps walking away from me was the loudest sound I had ever heard. Each one was a hammer blow, a nail in the coffin of the beautiful, impossible life we had built. And then, the final, terrible sound: the soft, heavy click of his bedroom door closing. It was not a slam of anger. It was a click of finality. The sound of a vault being sealed. The sound of the King of Ashes, the cold, empty man I had worked so hard to heal, returning to his throne. I stood there, frozen, in the middle of the vast, silent penthouse. The guards, Leo and the others, were still by the door, their faces a mixture of shock, confusion, and a new, cold suspicion. A moment ago, I was their queen, the woman they were willing to protect. Now, I was a liar. A spy. An enemy who had been sleeping in their king's bed. My hand was still pressed to my cheek, my skin stinging from my mother’s slap, but my heart was feeling a pain a thousand times worse. You are dead to me. M
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen: The Sins of the Father
(Alessandro’s POV) The sharp, ugly crack of the slap echoed in the vast, silent penthouse, it felt louder than a gunshot, more violent than any explosion I had ever witnessed. Isabella stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek, but her beautiful, happy face was not one of confusion, it was a mask of pure, shattered guilt. In that instant, the peaceful, loving man who had woken in her arms vanished. The King of Ashes returned, and his rage was cold, absolute, and immediate, I moved without thinking, stepping partially in front of Isabella, my body a shield between her and the woman who had just assaulted her. My men tensed, their hands moving to their weapons, but I held up a single, steady hand to stop them. “Leo,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, a low, cold sound that cut through the heavy, emotional air. “Get the Donna a seat.” I turned my gaze to Isabella’s mother, and my eyes were as flat and as dead as a winter sky. “ You will not lay another hand on her.
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