All Chapters of THE VENDETTA BRIDE: When the Devil says ‘I Do’ : Chapter 51 - Chapter 55

The morning came…Soft light tried to sneak through the thick curtains, but the room remained dim, as if reluctant to let in the world beyond their night. Vera slowly blinked awake, her lashes fluttering against the pillow. The silence was uncharacteristically calm, almost disorienting.She turned her head—and froze.Roman was still there, lying next to her, sleeping. For a moment, she just stared, almost unsure if she was dreaming. He never stayed, not like this, not past the act. She shifted slightly under the duvet and stiffened only to find herself naked. Her breath caught in her throat as the memory of the night before came crashing back in vivid waves. The way he’d touched her, tasted her, whispered things into her skin she never thought he was capable of saying. The way he made her feel—wanted, worshipped like she was more than a vendetta, more than a placeholder in a twisted arrangement.Her eyes drifted back to Roman’s face. His lashes were thick against his cheeks, jaw stil

Vera, still dazed from Roman’s kiss, made her way to their designated table. The dim glow of lanterns in a soft golden hue, and a small local performance was about to begin on the makeshift stage ahead.But her attention was elsewhere. Something had changed in Roman. Ever since they arrived, he’d been… different. Attentive, almost obsessively so. He made sure she rested, made sure her plate was full, even placed his hand on the small of her back as if to anchor her to him.Vera sank into her seat, trying not to overthink it.Leila, seated across from her, was already chatting animatedly with a few others at the table. Her hands moved as she spoke, expressive as always.“We actually spent the whole afternoon walking around the old quarter,” Leila said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The local streets are insane. Tiny alleys, vines climbing every wall, and the food stalls? Don’t even get me started.”“What did you eat?” asked Dimitry, leaning back in his chair with a cu

Morning light filtered through the curtains as Vera stirred on the cool kitchen tile. Every breath felt like shards of glass in her chest, and when she tried to push herself up, a searing shock raced from her palm to her elbow. She froze, instincts screaming before her mind could catch up: her hand was raw, wrapped in stiff gauze beneath her sleeve.Pushing herself upright, she winced and cradled the injured limb against her side. She glanced around the room. The broken petals, the splintered table edge, the dark stain of wine—none of it remained. The villa’s kitchen looked untouched, as if last night’s violence had been a fevered dream. But the dull ache pulsing through her bones, and the hollow emptiness in her chest, told her otherwise.Determined to cling to some normalcy, she limped toward the bathroom. Each step sent white-hot pain through her wrist, but she forced herself to follow her morning routine: brushing her teeth, splashing cool water on her face. Her reflection stared