All Chapters of Ruin Me: Falling for My Best Friend’s Fiancée: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Alessandra’s POVMy heart nearly jumped out of my throat as I spun around, following the voice. She was the last person I even thought I’d see, even though my half aware brain knew we were at their house. “Lia,” I said breathily, clutching my chest softly. She casually strode until she stood directly in front of me, her eyes empty but heavy with emotion. She placed a hand on my cheek, but her touch was ice cold. “How have you been?” She asked softly.I swallowed. “How good could I be?” I shot her an awkward smile. She returned it, and guided me towards one of the benches in the garden.It was cold metal, and it seeped slowly into my veins. My chest was a mess. Lia wasn’t scary, she didn’t have any reason to seem that way.But, well there’s always a but. “You know, I could always picture you two together. Unstoppable. But at the same time, it was never hard to know when Killian was fixated on something,” she began, catching me off guard.“I guess,” was the only thing I could muster.

Alessandra’s POVI swiped at my cheeks, the dampness of my tears catching me off guard. Killian’s hands stayed on my face, his thumbs brushing softly against my skin, but his eyes—those sharp, storm-gray eyes—were searching, peeling back layers I wasn’t sure I wanted exposed.“I’m fine,” I mumbled, my voice cracking like thin ice. I wasn’t fine. Not even close. The image of that little boy, Killian, staring at his sister’s broken body was clawing at my insides, tearing open a wound I didn’t even know I had.“You’re not fine,” he said, his voice low, steady, like he was stating a fact carved in stone. He leaned closer, his damp hair brushing against my forehead as he tilted my chin up. “Talk to me, Ale. What’s got you like this?”I swallowed hard, my throat tight. How do you ask someone about the moment their world shattered? How do you dig into a wound that’s been scabbed over for years, maybe decades, without drawing blood? But Killian was looking at me like he already knew what was

Killian’s POV Lia said she was probably just an escort. That’s what Alessandra told me this morning, her voice tight like she was trying to convince herself it was nothing and she meets Lia stared at the picture longer than necessary “She asked her brother,” Alessandra had said, stirring her coffee without looking at me. “He said she was just some girl on his arm. No name, no story.” Yeah, right. Because people who vanish like smoke are always just “some girl.” I had to leave the house to think and I eventually ended up at Damon's house.....His house was as bland as my house used to be minimal furniture black and grey decor, the kind of place that felt lived-in but not warm. He was slouched on the couch, nursing a mug of black coffee, watching me like I was a bomb about to go off. “Killian,” he said, his voice calm but heavy. “Don’t,” I snapped before he could say more. “I’m not dropping this.” “I know.” “She doesn’t add up. She was there, Damon. No one invited her.

Alex’s POVThe room smelled like bleach, the kind that burns your nose and makes your eyes sting. Not clean, not safe—just sharp, like it’s trying to scrub away something that won’t leave. She kept a bottle under the sink, said it kept the rot out. I didn’t know if she meant the tiles or me.I sat on the edge of the bathtub, my hands raw from scrubbing. Not because they were dirty. It was something else, something stuck under my skin, no matter how hard I tried to wash it away. The water was cold now, but I kept going.Scrub. Rinse. Scrub.The cracked mirror showed a stranger. Chapped lips, dull skin, eyes that didn’t look like mine anymore. The bruises on my wrist were fading, yellow-green now, like old stains. He hadn’t shown up in a week. That should’ve felt like a relief, but it didn’t. When he went quiet like this, it always meant something worse was coming.The door creaked behind me.I didn’t jump. It was just the wind, or the house groaning again. This place never shut up, alw

Alex’s POV I was fifteen when I learned what it meant to break inside and keep walking anyway.It started with a plate. Just a small, cracked one Alessandra dropped while setting the table. The sound hit the room like a gunshot, shattering the quiet. My heart stopped.I was in the kitchen, wiping my hands on a dish towel, when I heard his voice.“What did you do?”It wasn’t loud, not yet, but it was sharp, like a blade waiting to cut. I knew that tone. It was the one that came before everything fell apart.I dropped the towel and ran.By the time I got to the dining room, Alessandra was on her knees, picking up the pieces, her hands shaking so bad she could barely hold them. He stood in the doorway, belt in one hand, shirt half-unbuttoned, like he’d just woken up from a nap.“I’m sorry,” Alessandra stammered, her voice small. “It slipped, I didn’t mean—”The belt snapped through the air. I didn’t think. I just moved.“Stop!” I screamed, throwing myself between them. The leather hit