Todos os capítulos de Condemned Wife's Compliance: Capítulo 181 - Capítulo 190

The day would have been a beautiful day for a couple in love—if Rafael and Belinda had been one.Rafael stood in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with precise, detached movements. His reflection stared back at him: dark eyes, sleepless, jaw tight. He had woken up early, unable to rest after last night’s conversation. The decision had been made. Now came the performance that went with it.Starting with the purchase of an engagement ring.A symbol of responsibility, not affection.When Belinda arrived, he had already called the jeweller. He had chosen a boutique that specialised in engagement pieces—exclusive, private, elegant. The kind of place that understood discretion, which was exactly what they needed.“Ready?” Belinda asked when she stepped inside his flat, her voice light, trying to sound casual.Rafael nodded, taking his car keys from the table. “Let’s go.”The drive was quiet. Belinda made a few attempts at conversation—something about the weather

The house was a touch bright that afternoon, humming with polite conversation and the soft clinking of glasses. The staff moved about swiftly, offering drinks and refilling trays of appetisers. It was one of those social gatherings that Rafael’s mother, Irene, loved to host—elegant, tasteful, and designed to keep her guests talking about it in the future.Rafael stood near the front door beside his mother, greeting guests as they arrived. He wore a tailored navy suit, the kind that looked effortless but wasn’t. He found that he was on autopilot, working on a role that made him appear composed and controlled. His mother’s dutiful son.“Mrs. Anagnostou, so good to see you again,” he said politely, offering the woman his hand as she entered with her husband.“Oh, Rafael, you look well,” the woman said warmly before adding in a conspiratorial tone, “And I hear congratulations are in order?”His smile didn’t reach his eyes, the same eyes that flickered to his mother. She had gone to work as

He sat in his car for a long time, staring at the familiar outline of the house through the windshield. The soft golden glow from the windows made it look alive, as though someone were still inside, waiting for him to come home. But that was just an illusion. The woman who had once lived here with him, the woman he had once called his wife, had long stopped waiting. He did not know when she had moved out but he knew she no longer lived here. He wondered if that night had haunted her so much she had decided to flee. He wondered if he had hurt her so much she could not bear to live where they had formed memories.He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, his chest heavy. He had driven here without thinking. His hands had simply taken control of the wheel, guided by a memory he could not shake. Every brick, every flicker of light through the curtains, tugged at something deep in his chest.It was hers now. Legally, emotionally, completely. The house belonged to Adrea. He had signed it o

The kitchen smelled faintly of lemon and roasted garlic, a soft, homely scent that clung to the air even as the plates were stacked and the laughter faded.Adrea stood by the sink, sleeves rolled to her elbows, drying the last of the dishes. She was smiling faintly — that small, content smile that appeared only when she forgot to guard herself. The warmth of the apartment, the clink of cutlery, and the quiet hum of the city beyond the windows all felt like a bubble of peace she didn’t want to break.Aris was still moving about with quiet efficiency, loading the dishwasher with the ease of someone who liked things done properly. His movements were calm, deliberate. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, revealing the faint lines of muscle in his forearms. He didn’t speak, but the silence between them was companionable. It was the kind of silence that had replaced words — the steady rhythm of two people who had learned to coexist without effort.When he shut the dishwasher door,

Rafael woke up to the kind of pounding that made his skull vibrate.For a miserable moment, he thought the thudding was coming from inside his head. He thought it was the last echo of the drinks he had poured down his throat the night before. But then it came again. This time more insistent and unmistakable.Someone was hammering on his door.He groaned into the throw pillow he had used as a drunken headrest. The living room was a mess, his discarded jacket, and a half-finished bottle that glinted accusingly from the coffee table. He had passed out on the sofa sometime after three. He had no memory of what he had been thinking about when he finally lost consciousness, but he had a suspicion it had been Adrea. He was thinking of her now. The guilt pressed on him like a weight that had barbs embedded in him.The pounding started again.He pushed himself upright, wincing as his temples throbbed in protest. Whoever was outside had no intention of giving up. He only hoped it was not one of