Semua Bab My Godfather is my Soulmate: Bab 121 - Bab 130

Alexa’s POV The truth hit them like a physical blow, a crushing, silent force that made the polished mahogany table between us feel like the edge of a cliff. The air in the boardroom, once thick with tension and hostility, was now suffocating with a grief so raw it felt tangible. The man I had known my entire life as a titan of industry, a fierce rival, my father, was gone. The anger that had fueled his existence had been replaced by a vacant, horrified stare. He sat there, a shell of his former self, a man left with nothing but the devastating knowledge that his entire life’s work—his rivalry, his vengeance—had been built on a lie.Across from him, Don Antonio looked no better. The man who had always carried himself with an impenetrable grace and icy control now looked utterly broken. His stoicism had crumbled, revealing the human pain beneath. He wasn’t a rival or a threat; he was just another broken old man, brought together with my father by a lie that had stolen so much from th

Don Antonio’s POV The door to her studio was nothing like the heavy, imposing one to the boardroom. This one felt lighter, almost welcoming, and I pushed it open slowly, hesitantly. The smell of paint, canvas, and something else—a clean, sharp scent of possibility—filled the air. The harsh morning sun outside was softened by the blinds, casting long, peaceful shadows across the room.And there she was. Not the fiery, defiant woman I had fought against for so long, but a person completely consumed by her work. She was bent over a large sketch pad, her hair falling across her face. Around her were piles of new designs, lines and shapes that were unlike anything I'd ever seen from her. They were sharp, raw, and so full of emotion they felt like they could leap off the paper. I realized then that she wasn't just a designer; she was a true artist, turning her heartbreak into something new and beautiful.My own grief was a heavy, useless weight inside me. I had come here not knowing what I

Don Antonio’s POVThe heavy, ornate door of the library closed behind Donald, and the lock clicked with a quiet finality. There were no assistants, no lawyers, no reporters. Just the two of us, surrounded by old books and the scent of leather. This wasn't a business meeting or a negotiation. It was a final meeting between two men who were finally free.He didn’t sit down. Neither did I. We just stood there, facing each other across the polished hardwood floor, a lifetime of animosity stretched out between us like a physical thing. We didn’t shake hands. There was no need for a formal truce. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw a man who had lost everything he thought was real. The fire in his eyes was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness that mirrored my own. We had both been so consumed by this war, so focused on destroying each other, that we had failed to see the truth right in front of us. We had both been victims of a lie we believed in, and we had both paid a terrible

Alexa’s POV The phone rang, a jarring sound in the quiet of my studio. For weeks, the only sounds I’d heard were the soft hum of my sewing machine, the whisper of fabrics, and the gentle creak of the floorboards. Our new life was a sanctuary, and the city’s chaos felt a million miles away.I answered, and the voice on the other end was my fabric vendor, Marco. He sounded flustered and confused. "Alexa, I don't know what happened. The new shipment of silk... it's gone. The truck was supposed to drop it at your studio this morning, but I just got a call saying it was 'misdirected.' But the driver claims he never got that call and was told to take it somewhere else."A wave of frustration washed over me as I tried to analyze the situation. I sat down at the nearest stool I could find. This was a huge setback. The silk was for my new collection, and every day counted. I was about to dive into the details, to figure out the logistics and where the shipment could have gone when Antonio wal

Alexa’s POVThe restaurant was quiet, chosen for its privacy, but the silence at our table was deafening. The crisp white tablecloth felt like a barrier between the three of us. My father, Donald, sat across from me, his shoulders a little slumped, looking at his hands. Don Antonio, beside me, was his usual quiet self, but I could feel the tension radiating from him. They hadn't said a single word to each other since they sat down.I had arranged this meeting because it had to happen. We couldn't build a new future while a ghost from the past still lingered. I was the bridge between them, the only person who could possibly make them face each other.I picked up my water glass, setting it down with a deliberate clink. The small noise was enough to make both men look up."We aren't leaving until we talk about it," I said, my voice steady and firm. "We're not here to make small talk. We're here to talk about what happened. For real."My father shifted uncomfortably. "Alexa, there's nothi