All Chapters of My Godfather is my Soulmate: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Alexa's POVThe cold barrel of the gun stared at me, black and unforgiving. Elsie's face, a mask of grief and rage, was inches away. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage. This was it. This was how it ended. Not in a blaze of revenge, but at the hands of a broken step sister, fueled by a terrible misunderstanding.I braced myself, my breath hitched, my eyes wide with fear. I could only stare at her, my mind racing, desperate for a way out, but finding none.Just as Elsie's finger seemed to tense on the trigger, a new sound ripped through the apartment. Not the crash of a fight, but a distinct, authoritative banging on the front door."Police! Open up!" a loud voice boomed from the hallway.Elsie flinched, her eyes darting towards the sound, the gun wavering just a fraction. It was enough. That tiny flicker of hesitation was all it took.Relief, so sudden and powerful it almost buckled my knees, flooded through me. The police! How? Why? It didn't matter. They

Alexa's POVThe silence in Don Antonio's lavish bedroom was thick, suffocating. I sat in the plush chair, the scent of antiseptic and his expensive cologne filling my nostrils. His words, "Have you made your final decision about whose side you are on?" echoed in my head. But my mind… it was a blank, screaming void. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even think.Every single horror of the last two days flashed behind my eyes: Claire's shattered body, the brutal kidnapping, the fear, the escape, Elsie's attack, her accusations, the horrifying photo of my mother tied up, the knife, the gun... it was an endless loop of pain and betrayal. My father, the man who was supposed to protect us was a monster.Don Antonio was looking at me, his gaze intense, waiting. I knew he was waiting for an answer, waiting for me to declare my allegiance. But the words wouldn't come. My throat was tight, my chest aching, not from a physical wound, but from the crushing weight of all that had happened.And then, som

Don Antonio's POVThe fragile peace I had managed to enjoy was now shattered by a fresh wave of determination after Alexa’s emotional outburst. There was no time to waste. Her mother's declining health was just another reason to move swiftly.I waited until Alexa was settled, her eyes now closed, perhaps finally finding some rest. Once she was fully asleep, I pressed the button on my remote control for Xavier. He appeared almost instantly, his face impassive."She's committed," I stated, my voice low but firm. "And her insights are invaluable. Her father's arrogance is his greatest weakness."Xavier merely nodded, his gaze flicking towards Alexa, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes."It's time," I continued, feeling a surge of my old energy, despite the lingering ache in my chest. "Time to hit him where it hurts, before he even knows he's been struck. The first stage of our plan."I looked at Xavier, my gaze sharp. "I want a carefully crafted offer letter drafted. Something ent

Alexa's POVThe comfortable, luxurious bed felt like a cage. The expensive silk sheets were tangled around me, damp with sweat. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the oppressive silence of the night. My eyes flew open, wide and staring into the darkness, but all I could see was the lingering horror of the dream.I sat bolt upright, panting, gasping for air as if I'd been running. My throat was tight, dry. It was the middle of the night, and the mansion was utterly quiet, but the terrifying echo of the dream was deafening in my ears.It had been so real. Too real.My father. Not the monster I now knew him to be, but the father from old memories. The one who had once held my hand, who had taught me to ride a bicycle. In the dream, he wasn't menacing, wasn't cruel. He was... broken. His face, usually so cold and composed, was etched with a raw, unfamiliar pain. He was kneeling, or perhaps just hunched over, his shoulders shaking.And he was speaking. His voice, rasp

Alexa's POVThe brief, artificial calm of my shopping trip with Sarah had worn off by the time I returned to my godfather's mansion. The real world, with its heavy scent of vengeance and lingering grief, pressed in on me again. Don Antonio's words from the morning, dismissing my dream and demanding my unwavering resolve, still echoed in my ears. He was right, of course. Sentimentality had no place in this war.The next morning, I found myself drawn to the large, sleek television screen in the main lounge. It was usually tuned to international news, a constant stream of global events. But today, the local news was on, and the image that greeted me was stark and familiar.It was my father's face, grim and strained, plastered next to a headline: "Bavarish Investments Plummets After Market Panic."The screen flashed to a chaotic scene on the stock exchange floor, then to a graph showing a dizzying, vertical drop in stock value. Billions. Just gone. Like smoke.A few weeks ago, even a few