Semua Bab The Mafia Ruthless Bride; A revengeful Heart: Bab 51 - Bab 60

ELENA POVThe next morning the first time in what feels like forever, I wake up and the emptiness in my chest isn’t fear, it’s focus. Dr Lee would be proud. My memories are back, every painful, jagged piece of them, the lies, the betrayal. The baby they cut from me, Daemon’s soft words hiding his knife, Rachel’s hate hidden behind her scared eyes. My heart hammers in my chest when I remember it all, but I force my breath to stay even. No one can know. Not yet. I lie there staring at the ceiling until the sun drips through the curtains. Then I get up, shower, pull on a black dress that hugs my waist, brush my hair until it shines. I even take a moment to line my eyes, add a touch of red to my lips. The reflection that looks back at me feels colder. Smarter. But still me. Downstairs, I find Alex in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. His sleeves rolled up, tie still loose. He looks at me over the rim of his cup, eyes lingering a beat too long. “You’re up early,” he says, voice sti

RACHEL POV I know something is wrong. I feel it in the way Elena looks at me now. It’s too calm. Too steady. Her smiles stretch just enough to look polite, but there’s something underneath it all. Like a cat watching, waiting. She’s not supposed to look at me like that. She’s supposed to flinch, to fumble, to show the cracks of a woman still missing pieces of herself. And God, it terrifies me. At night, I lie awake, the room is too quiet except for the sound of Daemon’s even breathing beside me. My mind replays every moment I’ve seen her in the past weeks, the park, the parties, the dinners. The way she held Daemon’s gaze just a little too long, the way she squared her shoulders when I tried to rattle her. The way her voice never broke, even when it should have. It feels wrong, she feels dangerous, and I can’t sit with it anymore. In the morning, I lock myself in my study and call Anton, my investigator. My hand shakes a little as I hold the phone to my ear. “Watch her Anton

ELENA POV I’ve never worn a dress this bold before. Deep emerald silk clings to my hips, the neckline lower than anything I’d usually choose. Sophia had insisted. “If you’re going to stand by Alex’s side, make sure every person in that ballroom knows you belong there,” she’d said. Standing in front of the mirror, my pulse thuds in my throat. Not from the dress itself, but from what tonight means. The first time I’m stepping into the spotlight on purpose. Not as a pawn. As his wife. “Ready?” Alex’s voice comes from behind me. I turn. He’s in a classic black tux, crisp shirt, bow tie slightly loose at the collar in that effortless way only he can pull off. His gaze sweeps over me, and for a second, he just… stops. Like he forgets to breathe. “You look…” His voice trails off. I raise a brow, teasing. “Yes?” “Beautiful,” he finishes, softer this time. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, darker than before. “Stay close to me tonight,” he adds, voice lower. “Of course,” I murmur. He

ELENA POV The next evening, I continue with my original plan.. So When I push open the door to the lounge, the first thing I see is Daemon already watching me. He’s sitting back on the low leather sofa, one arm draped across the backrest like he’s waited all day just to see me. His shirt is open at the collar, a faint smirk on his lips. “Elena,” he drawls, standing up as I walk in. “You look… different tonight.” “Different how?” I ask, forcing a soft laugh, head tilted, pretending to be shy. “Like you’re finally letting yourself breathe,” he says, his gaze running over me in a way that should make my skin crawl but tonight, I let it. I need him to think I like it. I sit down across from him, legs crossed, and meet his eyes. “You’re late,” he teases. “You’re impatient,” I counter, smiling faintly. He chuckles, that smooth, practiced sound. “I missed you.” My stomach tightens at the lie, but I let my lips curve. “That’s dangerous to say to a married woman.” “And ye

RACHEL POVThe doors slide open, and there she is.Standing right there in the elevator, looking as calm as a goddamn statue. Elena Royal-Bianchi. She lifts her head when she sees me. Her lips curve, just slightly. Not wide enough to be friendly. Just enough to look amused. “Elena,” I say, stepping in beside her. The elevator doors close, trapping us together. “Rachel,” she replies, smooth and unbothered. The silence hums. The numbers above the door tick down floor by floor. I fold my arms, leaning back against the mirrored wall. “You know,” I start lightly, “you’re brave. Walking into my husband’s office like that.” Her eyebrow arches, but she doesn’t flinch. “Your husband? Oh… right. Daemon.” Her voice drips innocent curiosity. “I thought it was business.” “You and Daemon,” I continue, ignoring her tone, “I don’t know what you think this is, but we’re locked together. Forever. Nothing and no one is coming between us.” She tilts her head, lips curving just a touch mor