Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire Broken Bride—Married To My Enemy.: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

ALESSA’S POVThe night had thinned into a quiet warmth by the time Michael led me from the dining room. His hand was firm around mine, his voice low, gentle, but carrying that unshakable certainty he always had.“It’s late,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against my temple. “We need to rest. We’ve got just one week to prepare before the honeymoon begins.”The words made my stomach flutter, heat rushing to my cheeks. Our honeymoon. Even now, after the vows, after the laughter, after the whirlwind of the day, I still wasn’t used to the sound of it. My husband was already thinking ahead, carving a place in tomorrow for us to belong.At my bedroom door, he lingered, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as though reluctant to let go. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispered.I smiled up at him, shy but unable to hide my joy. “Goodnight,”We didn’t need anything more. That was enough. The tenderness between us wrapped around me like a promise. With one last squeeze of my hand, he left me to the quie

ALESSA'S POV I had always dreamed of leaving footprints across the world, but I never imagined it would feel like this, hand in hand with the man who had become my everything. Each country became a chapter I had once been too timid to write, yet now, each step we took together etched it into the fabric of my soul.We lingered in Dubai for two weeks, long enough for the city to engrave itself into me like gold pressed against skin. At sunrise, we floated high above the desert in a hot-air balloon, the endless dunes beneath us glowing like molten fire, as if the earth itself was burning with wonder. I remember clutching Michael's hand, laughing through the wind, the sky vast and ours alone. In the evenings, the desert softened into velvet nights where we glided on a dhow cruise, lanterns reflecting over the still water as scents of saffron and cardamom drifted from the shore.There were dinners atop glittering towers where the Burj Khalifa pierced the heavens just beyond us, and momen

MICHAEL’S POVThe sun was spilling molten gold across the Nigerian airport as we arrived at the private hangar. My eyes immediately found the helicopter waiting for us, sleek, familiar, and gleaming under the early light. It had been four years since I’d last seen them, since I had flown at all, not since everything with Natasha, not since I’d been too broken to leave the ground. The sight tugged something sharp in my chest: nostalgia, relief, and a trace of longing all tangled together.Before stepping out of the car, I spotted them: Andrew and Hannah, my trusted pilots, and Mica, the air hostess who had always made flights feel effortless, almost home-like. My chest tightened at the sight of them, a warmth blooming that hadn’t been there in years.“Andrew! Hannah! Mica!” I called, my voice cracking slightly, and ran the few steps separating us.Recognition lit their faces immediately. Andrew’s grin spread wide and easy, Hannah’s calm composure softened with genuine warmth, and Mica

MICHAEL’S POVThe moment the introductions were over and the room slipped back into its rhythm of chatter and laughter, I could not breathe easy. My eyes refused to move from her. Vanessa. Every line of her face clawed at old memories I had tried to bury, memories of Alessa stepping into classrooms with her shoulders hunched, trying to make herself invisible under the weight of whispered insults and cruel laughter. And me, always on the outside, always trying to shield her when no one else cared to see.The girl who once fed on cruelty now stood in my mother’s living room dressed like a maid.My jaw tightened. Something about this felt wrong, more than wrong.“Mother,” I said evenly, stepping closer to her. “May I speak with you? Privately.”Her brows lifted, surprised, but she gave a small nod. “Of course, Michael.” She excused herself, and together we walked into the hallway until the noise behind us softened to nothing.The moment the door shut, I turned on her. “Do you know who th

ALESSA'S POVThe next morning crept in quietly, almost as if the sun itself didn't want to disturb me. I lay in bed longer than usual, staring at the pale curtains that shifted with the breeze. My body felt heavy, though I had slept through the night. Sleep hadn't been rest, it had been escape, broken into fragments by thoughts that wouldn't leave me alone.Yesterday had drained me. The laughter, the apologies, the endless circle of trying to convince myself I was fine when, deep down, I wasn't. I had smiled, I had spoken, I had gone through the motions of being Alessa, the wife, the daughter, the woman everyone expected me to be but I hadn't been myself.I rose slowly, dragging my feet toward the washroom. The water that touched my face was cool, crisp, as though it wanted to remind me that the world outside was still moving, even if I was stuck in my head. I forced myself into my normal routine: brush, wash, eat, tidy. Each action felt mechanical, a script my body remembered even