Semua Bab Revenge On My Ex-husband With His Ruthless Mafia Brother : Bab 1 - Bab 10

Delilah’s POVThe Next Day – Weston EnterprisesThe elevator doors glided open with a soft chime, and I stepped into the sleek, cold hallway of Caleb’s company—Weston Enterprises. Polished marble floors reflected the overhead lights like glass, and the air smelled of expensive cologne, toner ink, and ambition.It’d been a while since I visited. Maybe two months? He always said it was too hectic for me. Too stressful. That I should “rest.”Well, resting felt a lot like rotting lately sinceI saw what made me lose sleep throughout the night. There should be an explanation. There is always an explanation.So I’d packed up his favorite lunch, grilled chicken with pesto pasta and chocolate mousse from that café he liked, and made my way here, determined to surprise him. To talk. To fix things before they split further.Before something inside me broke for good.The receptionist gave me a strained smile when she saw me, her gaze flicking to my belly like I was some ticking time bomb. “Mrs.

Delilah’s POVOne Week Later – Caleb’s Birthday PartyThe chandeliers sparkled too much.Everything sparkled too much.The Weston estate looked like something out of a luxury magazine—crystal flutes brimming with Veuve Clicquot, violins humming some pretentious rendition of Clair de Lune, women in silk gowns and pearls pretending to like each other. And Caleb?The birthday king, gliding through the crowd in a bespoke navy suit, flashing that Weston smile like he hadn’t buried a piece of me six feet under just last week. He is handsome, I'll give him that.Ladies were already gaping. As usual.I stood at the edge of the ballroom, perfectly still except for the occasional sway of my glass, the bitter gold fizz of champagne prickling against my tongue. I kept on my picture perfect good wife smile. That's all I've ever been,but what did it get me?I spotted Cheryse, beside him. She was wearing red, of all colors. A vulgar, violent shade. Dripping in gold like a stolen queen. She clung to

Delilah’s POVAfter the police hauled Caleb away in cuffs, murmurs buzzed through the air like flies to blood. But I couldn't care less. Everything I did, the look on their faces, were refreshing as hell. I stormed off toward the guest bathroom. I needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere I could breathe. And tio think.I slammed the door shut behind me and pressed my palms to the sink, trying to contain my emotions. I wasn't sad or happy. If anything, I was confused.What does Thorne wants from me? I didn't even have time to cogitate on this because I spent the last few days steeling myself for the ultimate showdown. Preparing myself for the madness I would unleash on their rotting souls..I turned on the tap and splashed cold water over my face, over and over again, like I was trying to drown the past. My body trembled—whether from adrenaline or the ghost of fear, I wasn’t sure. They deserved it– there are no two ways about it– so why am I feeling so hollow? Why does my heart hurt so mu

Cheryse’s POV I had to see Caleb in the damn jailhouse, I had to. My eyes were hot with tears and my anger was threatening to explode. How did everything escalate so fast? It's not making any sense!I stood in front of the glass, waiting for Caleb. At least the officers allowed me to see him.Caleb stumbled into view, flanked by an officer. His hands were cuffed. His shirt was wrinkled, stained with something I didn’t want to nameHis face—God, his face—looked hollow and wild. I swallowed hard, steadying my breaths.The second he sat down on the other side of the glass, he slammed his fists on the table and shouted, “Those are my accounts! You hear me?! I was set up!”The guard didn’t flinch, but I did. “You're all crazy for listening to that bitch!!" He looked insane, and it made me grimace. Jesus.This wasn’t the Caleb Weston I clung to at charity galas. This wasn’t the man who told me I’d be his queen once he was rid of Delilah. This was the man they plastered across the news n

Thorne’s POVFinally, she’s mine.She doesn’t know it yet, but tomorrow, I’ll marry her.My bride.This isn't by love. She'll obviously curse me, fight me, maybe even try to run away but I’ve already stitched the cage around her.She’s mine.If only she knew I was protecting her.I leaned back in the chair, the candlelight flickering against the cold sharp lines of the walls. My hand rested loosely around the crystal glass of untouched scotch, but the fire in my veins wasn’t from anything aged in barrels. It was her.God, she was beautiful tonight. So full of rage and confusion. Her chest rising and falling when she saw me. Her hands clenched. Those eyes? They always look like they’re drowning in something she can’t name. But I know it's fury and lust. She claims she's sick of me, tired of being stalked but when she got too curious in the bathroom… God, the way she looked when the wax kissed her skin…The way she looked when she inserted it in that day like a naughty lil slut.I've w