All Chapters of The Bride He Bought : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀 They officially closed Rina's case today. Just like that, after months of investigation, they stamped it as cold. The detective told me it was because there were no new leads, suspects or interests. The detective said it like he was ordering coffee. “Sorry, Signor Moretti. We’ve done what we can.” What they mean is, Rina wasn’t important enough to keep digging for. She was a servant, a liability, and a woman with a questionable record. Nobody cares to find out who wanted her gone. But I care. Because whoever silenced her could do it again. And next time, it might be someone else in my family. I’d gone into that station ready to push and demand for answers. But by the time I left, I knew I was wasting my breath. They’re not going to find whoever did it. So now, it’s on me. I’ll find another way. Maybe a private investigator. Someone who doesn’t take orders or excuses. But not tonight. I’m too damn tired. The drive home blurs by. When I get in, the house

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 The moment I step further outside, the world around me slows. I spot the golden lights hanging from the trees swaying gently in the night breeze. There's the faint chirp of crickets in the air, mixing with the scent of fresh flowers and newly cut grass. I take a few slow steps forward, my heels sinking lightly into the stone path. My eyes move across the rows of tulips, roses, and delicate lilies forming neat arcs around the table set in the middle of the yard. I can’t speak. He’s standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets with the faintest smile pulling at his lips. “What is this, Dante?” I question softly. His gaze holds mine as he answers, calm but softer than usual. “It’s for you.” “For me?” He nods, taking a small step closer. “Happy birthday, Alera.” The words knock the air from my lungs. My throat closes and I can only stare at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it earlier,” he says. “I should have.” He clears his throat, glancin

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 My eyes flutter open in the darkness. What time is it? I look at the window, it's pitch dark outside. I rub my sore eyes, trying to blink away the sleep still heavy on my lids. The air is still thick with the scent of our coupling. And like another layer of a reminder, my body is sore in all the right places. I can feel the faint ache between my thighs, the proof of everything that happened last night. We’ve done this numerous times already, I tell myself. I should be used to it by now. The need should have worn off. But every time feels like the first, and last night is not an exception. The memories are scattered, hazy. I remember his voice whispering my name, the warmth of his hands, the way he looked at me as though I was something he wanted to keep. Every touch felt like discovery, and for once, I stopped thinking and simply existed inside him. It was the most tender, most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced with him. And that's saying a lot because every m

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 The instant those words leave her mouth, the lemonade goes down the wrong way. One second, I’m taking a sip, the next it’s burning down my throat and the liquid catches in my airway, making me cough so violently the glass slips from my hand and clatters against the table. My eyes sting and water as I bend forward, struggling for air, one hand pressed to my chest. I wave blindly, reaching for anything, napkin, tissue, whatever’s near, to cover my mouth. Elena’s chair scrapes against the floor. “Madonna! Alera!” Her voice is alarmed, sharp enough to draw attention. The waiter hurries over with a glass of water while another brings a napkin. I snatch it and press it against my lips, still coughing between gasps. When I finally manage to breathe again, my throats still burning and my face is flushed. I wipe the tears from my eyes and croak out, “I’m fine. Really.” Elena laughs softly, though her eyes still flicker with worry. “Do you have a phobia for babies, tesoro?

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 He’s so controlling. The thought comes bitterly the second I slam my door shut. I lock it just to feel like I still have a shred of agency left. What is so wrong with me wanting to work there? is it because it's his family company? Maybe I should have just lied and said I wanted something else. It doesn't have to be at the company anyway, I just want to work. I throw my clothes on the bed and pace. “He only lets me do things when it's beneficial to him ,” I mutter at the walls. “I just want to work. It’s not that deep.” My anger simmers as I sit on the edge of the bed and press my palms to my face. It’s pathetic, the way one word from him can swing my mood like this. A few months ago, I would’ve screamed at him and walked away without caring what he thought. Now I’m sulking in my room because he said no. This is exactly why I need to reset. I need space. I need to remember who I was before this house, before his touch, before love crawled under my skin and took root