Semua Bab Dangerous Liaisons: Love in the Shadows: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Just as he turned on the screen, Carmine’s face immediately appeared, filled with concern. His brows were furrowed, his eyes wide with worry. I’d never seen him like this before, not in the two years I’ve known him. The tension in his voice was unmistakable when he asked, “Isabella, are you okay?” I was momentarily taken aback. The Carmine I knew was usually composed, often with a calm and easygoing demeanor. Yet now, he looked almost frantic, his usual confidence replaced by genuine anxiety. It was strange, seeing someone so unshakable suddenly appear so vulnerable. It took me a few seconds to process the situation, but then it hit me. For the first time, I realized that there was someone out there who truly cared about me. His concern wasn’t superficial; it wasn’t just out of politeness or obligation. No, this was real, unfiltered worry, and it was directed entirely at me. I had grown used to managing things on my own, rarely expecting anyone to be truly invested in my well-being

“Babe, we’re getting married, and you’re definitely invited,” Clyde announced with sickening cheerfulness, his eyes fixed on Carmine’s expression on the screen. He was enjoying this far too much, playing up the twisted reality he’d created. He knew exactly what he was doing—pushing Carmine to the edge, making him question everything, all while I stood there helplessly caught in the middle. My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my emotions in check. The anger simmered beneath the surface, a mix of rage and frustration that I struggled to contain. Clyde was doing this on purpose, feeding off the chaos and heartbreak he was sowing. Yet despite my efforts to stay composed, my heart pounded furiously in my chest, the guilt gnawing at me. I couldn’t bring myself to meet Carmine’s gaze. I knew if I did, I would see the pain, the confusion, the devastation that was undoubtedly etched on his face. And that would break me. How could I look h

“And now,” he continued, his voice laced with sarcasm and bitterness, “I don’t know what offer he dangled in front of you, but it must’ve been something big. Something worth more than your pride, more than everything you once stood for.” His words dripped with contempt, like he couldn’t even fathom what kind of deal I would strike to marry the one man I had despised for so long. “Because here you are, ready to say ‘I do’ to the person you’ve hated all this time.” His words stung, each one feeling like a slap, but I couldn’t flinch. I wouldn’t. Carmine was letting out all the anger, all the pain, that had been festering inside him, and I knew he needed to. Maybe he thought if he said it out loud, he’d understand it better. Or maybe he was hoping I’d break down, admit to some grand scheme, some ulterior motive that could explain away this madness. But I had no such answers to give him. It was clear he couldn’t reconcile the woman standing before him with the one who had once vowed to b

It’s been a while since Clyde and I publicly announced the news of our marriage. Time seems to have flown by since that moment, and it’s hard to believe how quickly things have progressed. We’ve put a lot of thought into the upcoming wedding, understanding how crucial it is for both of our futures—not just on a personal level, but for our broader goals too. That’s why we decided to invite several influential figures to the event. Forming alliances with powerful people is essential for what we aim to achieve. Having the right connections can open doors and provide support that we couldn’t manage alone. The marriage itself feels more strategic than personal. Clyde and I speak to each other only when necessary, focusing on what needs to be done rather than on each other. Our conversations are short, direct, and often about the arrangements or plans involving those we’re aligning ourselves with. Despite the limited communication, there’s an unspoken understanding between us about the imp

The room was wrapped in an almost suffocating silence. The only sound that broke through was the faint, rhythmic scratching of Clyde’s pen against paper. The quiet was so thick that it felt like it had a weight of its own, pressing down on me, making every breath seem louder than it was. I could feel the seconds ticking by, the tension growing as I struggled to find the right words. Clyde didn’t seem in any rush. His eyes remained focused on the documents in front of him, his hand moving smoothly as he wrote. I wondered if he was deliberately dragging it out, waiting for me to crack under the pressure of the silence. He had a way of doing that—forcing others to speak first, making them reveal their cards while he kept his own hidden. When he finally noticed that I wasn’t saying anything, he paused and slowly turned his head toward me. His gaze was sharp, a little impatient, but still cool and composed. “Weren’t you supposed to tell me something?” he asked, his tone flat but with an e