All Chapters of His Beauty Her Beast: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Elena's POV Yesterday had wrung me dry.Every part of me ached, like I’d been dancing barefoot on shards of glass all night. My calves felt tight, my shoulders heavy, even the small bones in my feet protested as I shifted under the blanket. It wasn’t just physical—it was the kind of bone-deep fatigue that seeps in after hours of smiling, organizing, keeping everyone calm while secretly holding your own chaos in a jar. Weddings looked glamorous from the outside, but standing behind the scenes? It was war disguised in lace and flowers.I groaned, rolling over in bed, my cheek pressing into the cool pillow. Sunlight spilled in through the curtains I’d forgotten to close last night, stabbing at my eyes. Ugh. Morning. I wasn’t ready for it.For a few blissful seconds, I considered shutting my eyes again, letting sleep pull me back. But then the doorbell rang. Twice. Loud enough to make me flinch.I sat up groggily, hair a mess, dragging the blanket with me like a second skin. Who the hell

Elena's POVBy the time I reached home, the weight of the day pressed so heavily on my shoulders that every step I took felt heavier than the last. The bar’s dim lighting and Natalie’s stubborn reassurances had done little to ease the knot in my chest.If anything, the moment I crossed the threshold of my house, the air felt suffocating again—thick, hostile, and heavy with unspoken words that never seemed to die out here.Caroline was perched on the couch like a queen in her throne, legs crossed elegantly, her manicured hand curled around a glass of red wine. My father sat next to her, his posture relaxed, his attention glued to the television. Some reality show was playing, the fake laughter and shallow drama filling the room.The moment Caroline’s gaze flicked toward me, I caught the little smirk playing on her lips. I didn’t even have the energy to roll my eyes, let alone start another argument. My body felt drained, my head pounding from the combination of alcohol and emotional w

Rowan's POVI laid her down on the backseat like she was a cabinet glass I was terrified of breaking. Her body hit the leather with a soft thud and a fresh, ragged sob escaped her throat. She was smaller than she looked across a boardroom table.Smaller than the woman who could organize a wedding, who could stand up to men twice her size and send them scurrying.Smaller in ways that made some part of me, the part that had nothing to do with contracts and land and profit margins, want to fold in and disappear.She was still struggling when I closed the door. Hands scrabbling at the seat belt, at the leather pocket, at anything. Her hair fell across her face in a tangle of blonde and city dust, and when her sleeve rode up I saw the tremor in her wrist, the way her knuckles were white.I slid in beside her, the driver's hum a private, steady rhythm behind my spine, and clicked the lock. Metal clicked and we were shut in—just us, the cab, the city blurring by outside like a smear of water

Elena's POV The house was too silent. Every footstep I took echoed against the marble floor, bouncing off the high walls like the sound was trying to find its way out. I stood still in the middle of the hallway, wrapped in the faint scent of cedarwood and something faintly metallic—maybe polish, maybe the sharpness of wealth. This was Rowan’s house. My husband’s house. The word felt foreign and heavy, like I’d swallowed something jagged. Husband. I hated that it applied to him and me in the same sentence. My eyes trailed along the hallway, the spotless perfection of it all—paintings aligned with military precision, a long rug stretching endlessly down the corridor, the faint hum of air conditioning whispering through the vents. It wasn’t a home; it was too immaculate, too quiet to be real. I wanted to take a shower. To scrub off everything—the weight of the vows I hadn’t meant, the sting of the ring that still felt too tight around my finger, the scent of church flowers and fa

Rowan's POV “What the fuck have you done, Rowan?!” Nina’s voice blasted through the speaker, sharp enough to cut through my skull.I pressed my thumb against my temple, closing my eyes. The pounding in my head had been building for hours, but this—her shrill panic—was the final spark.“Nina,” I muttered, “I’m really not in the mood—”“Not in the mood?” she barked. “Do you even hear yourse—”I ended the call.Just like that. One swipe. Blessed silence.The air seemed to expand again, the ringing in my ears fading into the steady hum of the house. I stared at the phone for a second, jaw tight, watching the screen light up with her name again. I didn’t hesitate this time—I hit block.There. Peace.I let the phone drop onto the bed beside me and leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Finally,” I muttered under my breath. “One peaceful minute.”The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d built an empire on control—on making chaos bend to my will—and yet one conversation with my twin sister could undo me fas