Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 91 - Chapitre 100

Isabella’s POVPower means choosing what to protect.The sunlight filtered slowly through the curtains of my new bedroom, warm and unhurried. It touched the walls softly, the kind of light that didn’t demand anything from me, only existed beside me. For a long moment, I just breathed, steady and quiet. No pressure in my chest. No shadow pressing behind my ribs.Just breathe.Just life.This house no longer felt like a refuge or a hiding place. It felt like mine. A space that held my present, not the remnants of my past. A place I chose not something inherited, not something taken, not something forced.On the kitchen counter, Mia had left a small mug of tea, steam rising in thin curls, and a note written in her familiar looping handwriting:You don’t have to prove anything today.Just walk like the world already knows who you are.I smiled. She knew me too well.I slipped my keys into my coat pocket and headed for the door.Today was not about reclaiming power.It was about returning

Isabella’s POVHealing is not loud; it is lived.Home is something you build, not something you inherit.The final box was lighter than I expected not because of what it held, but because of what I finally laid down.Mia nudged the front door open with her shoulder, a stack of blankets balanced in her arms. Sunlight spilled into the entryway, soft and golden, touching the hardwood floors like something familiar instead of something earned. The house didn’t echo. It didn’t loom. It didn’t press.It breathed.I stepped inside and set the box down. The air was warm, open, quiet the kind of quiet that doesn’t watch you, but welcomes.This place wasn’t grand. It wasn’t legacy-built. No one handed it down with a name carved into a gate.I chose it.Mia exhaled dramatically, planting her hands on her hips.“Well,” she said. “We officially live in a house with more windows than secrets.”A laugh rose from me without force—free and light.“It feels real now,” I said.She smiled. “No. It feels

Damon’s POVRedemption is silent. Growth is private.Morning arrives calmly now. Not as an escape. Not as an apology. Just… morning.Soft light stretches across the living room floor, touching the edges of furniture I no longer arrange to impress anyone. My home is no longer a stage. It is simply a place where I live. A plant rests on the windowsill, its leaves reaching toward the light. I remember to water it now. I remember to care.The kettle hums softly as I make coffee. Slow. Unrushed. I used to rush everything conversations, decisions, and healing. I wanted to run past myself. Now I understand: nothing grows by force. Not a company. Not a marriage. Not a man.I stand at the window, hand wrapped around the warm cup, watching the street below. People move with purpose. Cars pass. The world continues and I no longer feel like I’m sprinting to keep up with it.Peace used to feel like emptiness. Now it feels like breath.Work comes more gently too.The company is smaller now, by choi

Isabella’s POVWeeks had passed since the charity event, and Paris waited for us like a secret kept just for the two of us.Mia and I had both agreed that a break was overdue weeks of quiet, purposeful healing deserved a reward, and there was no better place than the city we had long whispered about in passing dreams. The city of light, of art, of pastries that melted like little pieces of heaven, of streets that promised discovery. For the first time in years, I allowed myself the luxury of anticipation without fear, without expectation, without the weight of anyone else’s story pressing on me.We flew first-class, of course not out of extravagance, but because I could. The comfort suited this chapter of my life. Mia’s eyes sparkled at the plush seats, the clink of silverware, the aroma of fresh coffee, and the muted hum of the cabin. I laughed at her delight, the sound light and unburdened.“Is this really life?” she asked, settling into her seat as if it had been waiting for her

Isabella’s POVMonths had passed since Paris, filled with steady steps and quiet victories, and I could finally breathe without reservation. Life had settled into a rhythm I had longed for but once doubted I could sustain, a balance of purpose and pleasure, work and stillness, ambition and peace. The companies I now managed were thriving under my guidance, each success a quiet affirmation that I had not only survived but reclaimed the pieces of myself that had once been lost. Leadership, I realized, was not about dominance or control; it was about clarity, vision, and presence. I had both now.Today, however, was not about business. It was about celebration, about Mia, whose laughter and warmth had always anchored me, and whose dream had finally taken form. She had opened a bakery-café in the heart of the city, a place that smelled of fresh bread, caramelized sugar, and hope. The unveiling promised excitement, but I approached it with quiet joy, not nerves.Walking into the café, I wa