Todos os capítulos de A Twist of Fate with the Callous Billionaire : Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

—Sophia's POVI couldn’t breathe.Not because of the smoke, or the heat still clinging to our clothes from the fire we left behind…But because that doll—That cursed, hand-stitched doll—Had my name on it.Aria.Not Sophia.And it winked.It. Winked.Ethan held it like it was made of poison, his fingers stiff, jaw locked. I watched the movement in his throat as he swallowed hard, eyes never leaving the thing.Andre had stepped back. Quiet. Tense.He didn’t need to say a word. We all felt it.We were being watched.Had been for a long time.Ethan ripped the tiny camera from the doll’s chest. “Custom. Micro-lens. Heat resistant.”He handed it to Andre, who nodded once and tucked it away in a secure pouch. We both knew what that meant.This wasn’t some prank.It was tech. Expensive. Precise.Someone had spent real money on this.My throat went dry. “He’s been inside the estate.”“More than once,” Andre muttered.Ethan didn’t speak. He turned, eyes scanning every inch of the nursery, slo

—Sophia's POVThe silence after the music stopped wasn’t peace.It was warning.I could still feel the echo of the melody clinging to the walls, stubborn like grief. Ethan hadn’t moved from the fireplace, but I could feel him slipping. Thought by thought. Memory by memory.I stood across from him, arms folded over my chest, trying to make sense of the quiet rage etched into his face. His jaw was locked, but it was his eyes that terrified me the most. They weren’t blank. They were drowning.“He knows too much,” I said quietly, though the words barely made it past the tension in my throat. “Things no one should remember.”Ethan didn’t respond.The music box had stirred something. Something deep. Something buried. And now it was awake.“You don’t remember the song,” I said again, stepping closer. “But I do. It used to play in the hall when we danced. The old orphanage hall. You always stepped on my feet.”He turned his head, slow. His gaze caught mine, sharp like frost. “You think I for

—Ethan's POVThe ballet slippers were still sitting in the foyer.Untouched.Like they might bite.I didn’t move after I opened the box. Didn’t speak. Barely breathed.Sophia stood next to me, silent. But I could feel her—shoulders trembling, breath shallow, one hand hovering protectively over her stomach. She hadn’t said a word since she recognized them.Pink satin. Frayed at the toe. A child’s size.Aria’s.Hers.From before the world swallowed us whole.I should’ve burned the damn things. Thrown them back in the fire Isaac had crawled out of.Instead, I picked them up. Slowly. Carefully. My gloves back on.“Where was this left?” I asked Andre, my voice like ice cracking.“Main gate,” he said. “Driverless car. Windows tinted. We ran the plate—it’s a ghost. No record. No prints on the box either.”Of course there weren’t.Isaac was too smart for that. Too deliberate.This wasn’t just another taunt.It was a reminder.He was watching. Waiting. And he was still inside our story, deeper

— Ethan’s Pov —June 17th..He’d written it in black ink. No smudges. No fingerprints. Just those four words that made my blood run colder than the marble under our feet.You dance, or the curtain drops.I took the card from Sophia’s hand. Crushed it in my fist.“Was that him?” she asked, her voice tight.I scanned the crowd. Nothing. Everyone was pretending to enjoy their drinks, their conversation, the string quartet playing in the background. But someone had seen him. They always did. Even if they didn’t know what they saw.“He left it for us to find,” I muttered. “He wanted to be seen… just enough.”Sophia turned slightly, eyes wide, shoulders stiff. She wasn’t trembling anymore, but she looked like she was trying hard not to.“Why now?” she asked. “Why tonight?”Because he wants the audience.Because he likes a stage.Because we gave him one.I didn’t answer.Instead, I guided her to the champagne table, ignoring every outstretched hand trying to pull me into small talk. Her pa

— Ethan’s POV —The black feather burned in my palm. I stared at it like it was a brand searing my skin. But the pain wasn’t physical. No. It was something deeper—an ache I couldn’t swallow down, no matter how tightly I clenched my fists.The way it fell from that man’s hand—like a silent warning carved out of shadow and spite.I wanted to tear it to pieces, crush it beneath my heel.But I didn’t.Because it meant something.Something dark. Something real.Something I still didn’t understand.Sophia was watching me, her eyes wide and unblinking. The faint tremble in her fingers gripped mine as we sat in the car, parked too far from safety but close enough to the past that haunted us both.“Ethan… what now?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.I swallowed. The words wouldn’t come easy. How do I tell her that this black feather wasn’t just a symbol—it was a promise? A threat wrapped in a riddle. That whatever game was playing out wasn’t just about us. It was about everything we t