All Chapters of The Billionaire Broken Bride—Married To My Enemy.: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

NATASHA’S POVChristmas came with bells and laughter, just not for me.From the moment I opened my eyes on December 24th, I felt it. That weight in my chest again. The kind that made it hard to breathe, like my own body was trying to swallow me whole from the inside.The house was alive with noise. I could hear my cousins downstairs blasting Christmas songs, smell cinnamon bread wafting from the kitchen. Laughter bounced off the walls. Everyone was in the spirit.Except me.I lay still, curled under the thickest blanket I owned, refusing to come out. The lights were off. Curtains drawn. I didn’t want the sun. I didn’t want joy. I didn’t want any reminder that the world was still spinning.Because Nina should’ve been here.She should’ve been taking silly pictures in a Santa hat, singing off-key, teasing me about being too serious. Instead, all I had were nightmares and unread messages. Constant reminders of what I’d lost and what I could’ve done differently.My phone blinked beside me

NATASHA'S POVIt’s strange how grief doesn’t ask for permission to settle in. One moment, you’re determined, focused, the next, you're sinking beneath the weight of helplessness.That’s what these past few days felt like.Ever since I told Michael and Alessa about Nina’s death, that day in the middle of February when everything blurred and my throat burned from saying the words out loud, we’d been trying. Trying to piece things together. Trying to chase down leads. Trying to breathe without choking.But trying wasn’t enough.The investigation was a dead-end from the start. The police barely helped. One report filed, a few empty promises tossed at us, and silence. Cold, useless silence. I tried to push, to demand more, but they always had a new excuse, jurisdictional issues, lack of evidence, overworked officers. And just like that, we were on our own.And Nina... she was gone.Alessa had been the strongest among us maybe because she knew what grief felt like. She didn’t just sit ar

MICHAEL'S POVDays had passed since Alessa told us about a witness.Days since Natasha cried again.Days of pacing, thinking harder, waiting longer.And now, here we were.I moved slowly around the round table inside the Astor estate’s private meeting room, each step echoing in the quiet. The walls were still cluttered with photos, sticky notes, printed messages, and that giant board, once an investigation, now looking more like a shrine. A eulogy in ink and color.My thoughts never stopped racing, though I kept my face unreadable. I had to stay grounded. Someone had to, especially when these women, so strong in their own rights, were unraveling under the weight of it all.Across from me, Natasha sat curled into herself, knees pressed to her chest like they were the only thing holding her together. Her hair hung around her face, unmoving. She looked smaller than usual, like grief had physically shrunk her.Alessa entered next, hoodie drawn, eyes shadowed with fatigue. She muttered a s

ALESSA'S POVThe second I stepped out of the hall, the cold night air slapped my cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the heat boiling in my chest.I clutched the front of my black ball gown with both hands, lifting its heavy fabric as I ran, more like stumbled through the winding stone path of the garden that led to the back lot. The moonlight kissed the edges of my gown, giving it a ghostly shimmer, as if the night itself mourned with me. My heels thudded against the ground, each step jerky and ungraceful, a sharp contrast to the princess I’d been styled to be.I was supposed to shine tonight.But instead, I was falling apart under chandeliers and applause.“Alessa!”Natasha’s voice cut through the wind. I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I didn’t care.Another voice followed, less urgent but far more grounded. “Lessa, wait..” Disha’s footsteps sounded behind her, lighter, steadier.When I finally stopped near the long private drive, I bent slightly, catching my breath, still ho

ALESSA’S POVThe soft rustle of fabric, the delicate scent of vanilla and fresh powder, and the gentle touch of Disha’s fingers in my tangled curls wrapped around me like a lullaby. She sat cross-legged behind me on the bed, carefully plucking out the tiny pins hidden in my hair one by one, as though she were undoing the chaos of the night itself.The lights in my room had been dimmed to a gentle golden hue. Shadows moved quietly across the walls, and the world beyond these four walls felt impossibly distant. Somehow, after everything, after one of the most emotionally jarring days of my life. I found myself laughing. Giggling, even. And to my surprise, it felt good.I leaned my head back a little, giving her easier access to the crown of my scalp.“I swear,” Disha said between giggles, gently tugging at another pin, “you could have stabbed someone with how many of these things you had in your hair.”I let out a full, honest laugh that rose from somewhere deep inside, a place I thou