All Chapters of The Bride He Bought : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

𝙍𝙊𝙒𝘼𝙉 From my office window, the world below looks small enough to crush between two fingers. Alera stands near the glass atrium on the ground floor, talking to one of the junior analysts. Her brows are drawn, shoulders straight in concentration, completely unaware she’s being watched. Her curly hair is pulled back in a simple style, but even in the simplicity, she draws attention like light draws insects. The analyst she’s speaking to keeps glancing away, clearly intimidated, like he isn't sure if he's allowed to speak too casually to her. Of course. Dante always had expensive taste in everything, from boats to suits to watches. Apparently, that extended to women too. The girl is stunning, but not in a loud way. There's something quietly composed about her that bothers me. It lacks the desperation I expected. She gestures with her hands as she speaks, her tone calm but assertive. She’s not timid. She doesn’t look lost. She just… fits. That alone irritates me more than it sho

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 I wait a few more seconds, making sure I don’t hear anything else from Rowan’s office. My hand finally rises again, and this time I knock. There’s a pause, then footsteps tapping across the floor, and the door opens. Rowan face instantly brightens when he sees me, like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. “Alera,” he says warmly, stepping aside. “You’re still here?” I force a smile, pushing down the unnerving feeling from what I just heard, there has to be a perfect explanation for why he's talking about Rina. Maybe he and Dante have found something. “Hope this isn’t a bad time?” “Of course not. It’s never a bad time when it’s you,” he says with an easy tone, gesturing me inside. I walk inside, gripping the folder tightly. “I wanted to talk to you about something I’ve been working on.” “Oh?” He leans back slightly. “Go ahead.” I open the folder and place the printed sheets on his desk. “These are from the Paris division’s quarterly expense reports.

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼“Safe? Safe from who?""Rowan?”Dante doesn’t answer. He just stares at me like he’s weighing what to say and what to keep hidden.I study his face. He looks so serious for this to just be about some old rivalry, I can definitely tell there's something more to this. But how? Rowan isn't scary. “You made it sound like he’s dangerous.”He doesn’t respond and that silence does more than words.Sure, the reason Rowan slept with Nichole is more calculated and cruel than I thought, and yeah, he lied by saying it was because he loved her. That alone makes me look at him differently. But that doesn’t automatically mean he’s a threat.Maybe he's jealous.He kissed me right in front of his brother to make a statement I'm sure. And the thought that this might be jealousy makes my delusional heart warm with excitement. I haven't been hopeful about anything, not after reminding myself constantly that this marriage isn't real, but the way he looked at me out there it makes me think maybe

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 Yesterday, I wanted to apologize to Dante for the way I spoke to him. There’s no excuse that justifies throwing those words at him, especially since we've been so good lately. But he wasn’t home when I woke up. And when I came back from work, he still wasn't home. I stayed awake waiting for him. When I finally heard his footsteps downstairs, I waited for him to come to my room like he normally does. He didn’t. That was all the confirmation I needed, that he's really angry with me. I thought about going to his room, thought about knocking and apologizing, but I couldn’t move. I was too scared he’d ignore me. So I just gave in to sleep. Hoping that tomorrow would be better. Well, it's finally tomorrow and right now, still in my robe and not ready for work, I’m standing outside his office, rehearsing the words I’ve been trying to form since last night. I breathe out slowly, twist the knob and push the door open. He’s behind his desk, typing. He doesn’t look up imme

𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀 Lately, it feels like I’m walking through fog. Nothing stays clear long enough to make sense. Mama’s condition is getting worse; she’s reached the final stages of her illness, and any moment from now, she’ll be gone. I know this. I’ve been preparing for this. But seeing her already start planning her own funeral, saying things like, “I want lilies, not roses,” is driving me insane. I can’t stand hearing her talk about her death, so I’ve been avoiding her more than I should. It makes me feel like a coward. Because I am one. Luciana said the doctors want to run more tests, but everyone knows what that means. They’re preparing us. I don’t need to be a doctor to see what’s coming. And in the middle of all that, there’s Alera. I’ve spent years mastering the art of control, just like Papa taught me. I’ve kept everything about my life neat and compartmentalized, and for so long, it worked well for me. Until she showed up and wrecked all of it. Now, every time I wal