บททั้งหมดของ Reviello's Wrong Bride: บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

The cab stops in front of the airport, which, as usual, is crowded with people coming and going, oblivious to problems that do not belong to them.Erica waits for the driver to remove her big suitcase from the trunk while she adjusts her scarf. Put together with her hat and glasses, she becomes almost unrecognizable. Erica isn't a celebrity, but she was on magazine covers when she was younger, and occasionally attended important high society events. Recently, thanks to the wedding disaster, her family has become the topic of the moment — especially Emily.Emily… even though she herself blew it by getting into bed with another man, she had the nerve to blame me. Didn't she dig her own grave?“There you go, ma'am.” The taxi driver says with an unfriendly expression, awaiting payment for the charge and tips.Normally, Erica would splurge on tipping, but her reputation is already in the mud and money is tight… why keep up appearances when she will soon be away from this place?Erica pulls

Theodor Marchetti's eyes are laid on his desk, but his attention is far beyond, further away, lost among thoughts and worries that, as he might try to deny it, have settled into the shadows of his mind. Inevitably, Douglas' words continue to hover like a dense fog, and he becomes unable to ignore them even in his sleep.Would you be able to lay your head down and sleep peacefully when your hands are full of innocent blood? Theodor was convinced that yes, this would be a burden that, although heavy, would be worth carrying. But chaining your soul to sin isn't as simple as it seems… Especially when you're no longer so sure that your ideal is worth the price of your peace.Lately, Theodor has been wavering… doubts arise in his head and make him confused, doubting truth and reality, accepting that maybe these things are just subjective, a matter of perspective. A few months ago, he was sure that any sacrifice would be worth it to revive LA FAMIGLIA, but now that several of his allies hav

Giovanni brings the cigarette to his lips, swallowing deeply before releasing the smoke into the closed room. His nostrils burn slightly, but he doesn't care. The clock shows that it's fifteen minutes before a new day begins, and he should already be in bed, cuddled up with his wife, enjoying the fact that this mess is finally over.But instead, he's dragging in the silence of the dawn, mulling over thoughts, waiting for the sunrise to clear up all the doubts that are consuming his chest, bringing an utmost emptiness into Giovanni's soul. And all because of the call received a few hours ago…A call from Thomas Marchetti.He should have known something was wrong, since he specifically told Thomas to leave town because of the possibility of Gioacchino's involvement. And that meant that any contact between them was ceased completely. But still, he called Giovanni.ㅤ— A few hours ago.Giovanni answered his phone with a frowning expression, “Didn't I say you should be careful?”“I am bein

Feelings.Feelings are the most complex part of a person, what makes us humans.And feel is the last thing Eleonor would want at the moment.She practically dragged her body as she got out of the cab, climbed into the same hotel that she used as a refuge the last time she ran away from home, as she burned the contract and got rid of those restraints. However, as she forced her feet to take the steps down the long corridor, Eleonor knew there was no turning back.In the refuge of the room just like the one Lisette hated, Eleonor threw herself on the bed and collapsed crying, putting all the tears and sobs out until her face was red and swollen. Even after ten minutes of uninterrupted crying, the anguish that had taken up home in her chest didn't make a point of leaving. And the tears still trickle from the corner of her eyes as she remains curled up on the mattress, hugging her own legs.Honestly, Eleonor feels as if her chest is being torn open and her heart is broken in half. It's a

— THEODOR MARCHETTI ㅤ Despite my family's fame, I didn't know violence. I lost my mother early to an illness, in my birth, and perhaps this is why my father worked so hard to fill this void. To me, he used to be a hero… a star shining in the dark night. I loved him more than anything in the world. But one day, everything collapsed before my eyes. Eight years old… I was only eight years old. At that time, I didn't find my father's acts or anxiousness strange… even though he put me to bed early and, unlike all the other nights, he didn't tell any stories. I remember that he just covered me up to my shoulders and put a kiss in my hair. He said, “Theo, Papa is a little busy tonight… I promise that tomorrow I'll tell you two stories instead of one.” But of course, that promise could not be kept. I woke up later with a loud noise… loud steps and voices that blended together. I found myself unable to understand. Honestly, memories are fragmented… I don't know how I was able to get out