Semua Bab The Bride He Bought : Bab 41 - Bab 50

𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀The moment the church doors shift open and Alera walks in, the hall falls silent as heads turn towards her. Mama is by her side, radiant in her pride, but my eyes don’t stay on her for more than a second. They’re fixiated on Alera because she looks divine. The gown hugs her small frame perfectly. I'd seen the dress days before she even saw it. I knew it would look good, id spent millions on it. But nothing prepared me for the magnificence walking towards me. Her veil shimmers with every step and despite my infuriation with her, I can't deny it. She's breathtakingly beautiful. When Mama finally places her hand in mine, Alera’s fingers tremble against my palm. For a moment, I question my resolve wondering if I'm being too harsh on her. I want to lift her veil and search her eyes, to see what’s behind them, but I hold back. She lied to him. She's probably told Kingsley everything about the contract they have. I have no idea. I should feel completely satisfied that I b

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼Disbelief, shock, maybe disappointment. I can’t even decide which one is winning. All I know is I’m staring out the window, refusing to give Dante the satisfaction of seeing my face. He hasn’t said a single word since we left. Just sits there in the driver’s seat, with his hands steady on the wheel like he doesn't owe me an explanation for the circus back there.The longer the silence stretches, the more I come to terms with the fact that, this wasn’t random. The timing, the way every piece lined up… no way this wasn’t planned. He orchestrated everything, and once again, just like the kiss, I'm stuck right in the middle of his mess.I cut my eyes at him, and he looks back. Our gazes lock for half a second, but I whip mine away fast as my hands ball into fists.Fucking bastard.The moment he parks, I shove the door open and slam it shut behind me. My heels strike the pavement hard as I storm toward the front door. I curse under my breath when I realize I have to wait for him

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 My heart stops dead in its tracks as soon as those words leave his mouth. Wedding? What wedding? For a split second, those words sound wrong like a glitch in reality. Then the meaning rams into me, and it knocks the air right out of my lungs. I whip around to Marisol. She’s stiffly standing by the door with her book pressed against her chest like a shield. There’s an apologetic tilt to her eyes, but it’s laced with curiosity. She knew this was going to happen. “Da… Dad? What are you talking about?” My voice cracks, higher than I intend. He doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps staring out the window. My heart’s thumping so loudly I’m sure Marisol can hear it too. This can’t be happening. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. A tear plops down my cheek before I can stop it. “Dad,” I plead. Finally, he turns his head toward me. His eyes, those steady, familiar grey eyes that would always look at me with such fondness, are colder than I’ve ever seen them. “You know w

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼The next few days feel like a copy of the last. It starts the same, with me, waking up with a pit in my stomach and going back to bed with a much bigger pit and a heart sunken right in there. Life has become so dull, where every waking and sleeping thought circles back to my father. I call, text, and Dad doesn't give me a life line. It's so bad, I have to beg Marisol for updates. She tells me when he’s eating, and if the treatments are continuing. But when I try to see him, he refuses me. He won’t even let me into the room. My life feels like it’s hanging by a thread, and that thread is Marisol. She’s the only one standing between my father, his anger and his gradual refusal to accept care, because of course he'll start to do that. He wants nothing to do with Dante, even if his money is the one thing keeping him alive now. Daily, I beg Marisol not to let him walk away from treatment. And everytime she calls to update me, my grief is always met with relief because she's

𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀 Moments later, the door is pushed to the side and Kacie steps in. She moves aside and holds the frame as though reluctant to invite what waits in the hall. Right after her, walks in Glover Vance. He leans heavily on a walker, and a woman with wavy black hair, braces an elbow to guide him forward. His body is bent. Once, I remember, how he carried himself like he was untouchable with his shoulders straight and constantly locked jaw. Now he looks like a shell of that man, with sallow skin and lips tight with effort as he makes his way into my office. The only thing that's reminiscent of the man I knew, is his steel grey eyes, eeringly similar to Alera's. For a flicker of a second, I feel pity for him. His illness has really done a number on him. But the pity dies as quickly as it sparks. He wanted this audience. And judging by the fury already simmering in his eyes, he didn’t come here for sympathy. I dismiss the woman by his side with a nod. She hesitates but obe