Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 29

~Robert’s POV~ The Mondragon Tower’s penthouse office was a monument to success, but it felt more like a cage to me. The sprawling skyline of the city, usually a source of pride, seemed to mock me with its indifferent glow. It was just after 6 a.m., and the only sounds were the soft hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic tapping of my pen against the mahogany desk. I'd been here since 4 a.m., unable to shake the lingering terror of the nightmare that had jolted me awake. Melissa's face, a grotesque mosaic of glass and blood, was burned into my mind. Her chilling whisper, "You'll never have any peace," echoed in the silent room. I'd thought coming here would help, that burying myself in work would silence the ghosts. But my mind was a fractured mess. Earlier, I'd signed my name on a quarterly report, only to realize I’d scrawled “Melissa” right across the signature line. The morning meeting with the board had been a disaster. I couldn't focus, my leg bouncing uncontrollably u

~Isabella’s POV~ My world came to a screeching halt. The moment his lips touched mine, a jolt of pure shock shot through me, stunning me into complete stillness. My eyes, wide and unblinking, stared at a spot on the wall behind him. It took me a second to comprehend what had just happened. A second too long, maybe. The warmth of his breath lingered, mixing with the faint taste of whiskey as his hands grasped me with the same urgency as the man I had once loved. But I wasn’t Melissa anymore.I couldn’t be her. Not after everything.My chest felt tight, my pulse erratic, my breath caught in some kind of limbo between wanting to pull away and wanting to remain suspended in that moment. I hadn’t moved, still rooted in my seat. My body froze, caught somewhere between what should have been natural and what was so very wrong. My heart hammered in my chest, pounding so loudly that I couldn’t hear anything else, couldn’t feel anything else.His lips were warm, soft, too familiar. I couldn

~Isabella’s POV~ Morning came too soon, as the first rays of dawn pressed against my window...pale and fragile, like an unwelcome reminder of reality. I hadn’t slept...not even for a second. The sheets beside me were a mess, tangled and twisted, soaked with sweat from hours of restless tossing. My body ached for rest, but my mind refused to shut down, its constant loop of thoughts and images mocking me. Not just the kiss. Not just of Robert.But that damned message. The phone still sat on my nightstand, its black screen like a watchful eye. A silent, damning presence. That picture…that text. My stomach clenched every time I thought of it.“Fun Night.” The words burned into my memory. Who would send that? Who was watching me so closely, closely enough to catch me in such a vulnerable, dangerous moment? And why? I’d checked the number again and again. Unregistered. Anonymous. A phantom hiding behind digital smoke and mirrors. But it was the image that had gutted me....the clarity

~Isabella's POV~ The air in the study thickened, the scent of aged leather and Dante’s cologne suddenly cloying. The low, seductive rumble of his last words "It's about your son...Tariq"....had struck me not with a bang, but with a silent, paralyzing chill, a cold sliver of ice aimed right at the heart of my carefully constructed world.Of all the secrets he could have unearthed, all the vulnerabilities he could have exploited, this was the line he had deliberately stepped across. A sacred boundary. My son.I turned fully back to him, forcing my body to remain still, my face a carefully crafted mask of polite inquiry. Inside, however, my entire being had recoiled, a coiled spring of pure, animalistic defense.“What about my son?” I asked, my tone surprisingly civil, almost conversational. It was a conscious effort, a refusal to let the icy paranoia that was rapidly bubbling in my stomach break the surface. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.Dante didn’t answer

~Isabella's POV~ “Isabella?”Dante’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, laced with genuine concern, the sound pulling me back from the brink of pure terror. I was still impaled by the shock of the power tussle, the pressing weight of William’s rough hands still gripping my shoulders. My breath came out in a ragged rush, my suit jacket slightly twisted, my hair clinging damply to my temples. I opened my mouth, but no proper response formed....just a choked, useless sound. Before I could mutter anything intelligible, like a simple "Yes" or "Thank you"....Dante’s composure snapped, his focus laser fast as he turned back. His rage filled gaze averted from me and settled back on the pathetic figure of William....who was still sprawled awkwardly on the Persian rug, blinking up in confusion, but slowly regaining his senses. The transformation was chilling. The cool, controlled charm I associated with Dante vanished, replaced by a primal, frightening intensity. He moved not with the grace