Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Mafia Ruthless Bride; A revengeful Heart: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

ELENA POVI’ve been to airports before. At least I think I have.But standing beside Alexander at the private terminal, watching the sleek jet glitter under the runway lights, I feel… small. Nervous. Like a little girl with no bearing.His hand brushes against mine, warm and solid.“Stop overthinking,” he murmurs, low enough that only I hear.“I’m not,” I lie, voice barely above a whisper.He shoots me a look, half teasing, half serious. “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just a few days.”“Just Paris,” I mumble.His lips quirk into something that almost looks like a smile. “Just Paris.”I exhale slowly, trying to ignore the drum in my chest.A flight attendant in a navy dress greets us, smiling politely. I answers in French, fluent and casual, flowing with it. He gestures for me to board first. “Go on.”Inside, everything feels surreal. Soft cream leather seats. A table already set for dinner. Fresh flowers. A chilled bottle of champagne in silver.I swallow. “You did all this?”He

ELENA POVI don’t sleep that night and Alex doesn’t make it back home solidifying the pictures Samantha sent.Are they together right now?Laughing at the fact they tricked me the first time?Or is he just truly busy with work?I lie in bed staring at the dark ceiling, the images of Alex and Samantha burned behind my eyelids. Every time I close my eyes, they’re there, her hand on his chest, his face turned just enough that it looks like he’s comfortable beside her.It’s like being punched in the ribs over and over.Part of me wants to scream, to throw something, to call Alex and demand answers. But another part, the louder part, keeps whispering that maybe I already knew. And maybe I’ve always known. I mean Samantha had so much audacity, Alex had to be okay with it or she would not do the things she does.By morning, my chest feels hollow. My eyes sting from holding back tears I’m too stubborn to let fall.Sophia knocks gently on the door. “Elena?” Her voice is soft, cautious since y

RACHEL POV I can’t stop shaking, even hours later. Ava’s asleep upstairs, finally, but my mind keeps replaying what I saw in the park: Elena Royal, crouched in the grass, her hand over my daughter’s like she belonged there. Like she remembered, seeing her in person, especially after everything that happenes years back scares me, its like seeing a ghost come back to life. Especially a ghost I planned to kill and stole from. “She doesn’t remember,” I mutter to myself for the hundredth time. But what if she does? Somethjngbinside of me bags. I pour myself a drink, hands trembling so badly the liquid nearly spills over the rim. The scotch barely burns going down; my throat’s already raw from the shouting match I had with Daemon when we got home from the park. “You don’t understand!” I hissed, my voice too loud in the living room, the curtains still open. “She was touching her, Daemon! Ava! Our daughter!” His eyes were cold, unreadable. “And?” “And?” I nearly laughed, a cracked, d

ELENA POVIt happens faster than I can blink.One minute I’m trying to step out into the car, thanking Marco for driving me to Dr. Lee’s office. The next, there’s a rough hand on my arm, yanking me sideways into a narrow service entrance by the side of the alley.Gunshitsbfollow right after but my attackerbis faster than just Marco. “Hey—!” My voice is cut off by a hand clamping over my mouth. I’m dragged down a dim room that smells of dust and oil. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I feel dizzy. I fight, kicking back, clawing at the arm holding me but the grip doesn’t loosen. A door opens. I’m shoved inside. It slams shut. I stagger, catching myself on the edge of a table. When I spin around, my breath catches. Reed Bianchi stands there.Alex’s cousin. Dark long hair tied back, dull blue eyes watching me like I’m a puzzle. “Hello, Elena,” he drawls. “Reed,” I manage, voice shaking. “What the hell is this?” He steps closer, arms folded. “Just a friendly chat. Between fami

ELENA POV I don’t remember how I made it up the stairs. My body moves on autopilot, but inside, everything feels broken. Like my chest is too tight to breathe. I pull open the wardrobe, throwing clothes into the suitcase without folding them. Dresses, shirts, jeans, things I bought with Sophia, things Alex picked out for me in Paris. None of it feels like mine anymore. The whole time, my mind won’t stop replaying his voice in the study. “I was going to tell you.” But he didn’t. He never did. Because it was never about me. It was always about the heir. I shove the last pair of shoes inside and zip the suitcase so hard the fabric strains. My hands are shaking. My heartbeat feels like it’s pounding in my ears. Behind me, the bedroom door creaks. I know it’s him before I even turn. “Elena, don’t do this,” Alex says, his voice hoarse. I grip the suitcase handle tighter. “Don’t,” I snap, without looking at him. His footsteps come closer. “Please. Let’s talk.” “Talk?” I laugh, but