Semua Bab The Billionaire's Broken Bride: Bab 31 - Bab 39

The room smelled faintly of dust and old smoke, the kind of scent that clung to forgotten places. Faded wallpaper peeled from the walls in thin curls, and the single bare bulb above us cast a yellow light that flickered every few seconds. Ethan guided Isla toward the far corner, away from the windows, while the man who’d opened the door—tall, wiry, with sharp features carved by a lifetime of suspicion—shut it quickly behind us. The sound of the lock clicking into place was louder than it should’ve been. “Where’s Marcus?” the man asked without looking at me, his gaze fixed on Ethan. “Dead,” Ethan said flatly. The man’s jaw tightened. “When?” “Two weeks ago.” Silence stretched, thick and heavy. Then the man let out a slow breath, his shoulders sinking as if part of him had been expecting that answer all along. “You brought trouble with you,” he said finally. “Not by choice.” The man’s eyes flicked toward Isla, studying her for a moment too long. His expression softened just en

Ethan didn’t have to tell me twice. The sound behind us wasn’t just footsteps anymore—it was a rhythm, deliberate, faster now, echoing in the hallway like the building itself was chasing us. My pulse matched it, hard and unrelenting. Isla’s hand was in mine, ice-cold, her little legs trying to keep up with the brutal pace Ethan was setting. The woman was ahead of us, knife still in hand, her eyes darting to every shadow like she expected one to come alive and grab her. The corridor stretched on longer than it should have, lined with doors that were all closed—too closed. No voices. No signs of life. Only the hollow thud of our feet and that steady, closing pursuit. “Where’s the exit?” I hissed. “Down the stairs, left, then straight out,” Ethan said without looking back. The stairs. Great. Just what you want when someone’s behind you—a nice, predictable choke point. We reached the landing and took the turn hard. The metal railing rattled under my palm as we descended, every clan

The silence between us was louder than any gunfire, heavier than any storm. My hands were still trembling when I closed the folder I had no business opening. I could feel the weight of it in my chest—those neatly stacked documents, photographs, fragments of another woman’s life carefully hidden away in Ethan’s private drawer. Evelyn Navarro. Her name was inked on every page like a shadow refusing to fade. And in that moment, it wasn’t the danger outside, or the men chasing us, or even the chaos of the last few days that terrified me most—it was the possibility that my husband, the man I had been trying so desperately to understand, was a stranger all along. I lifted my gaze. Ethan was standing in the doorway of his study, broad shoulders rigid, jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked in his cheek. His eyes were on me, but not with the warmth I’d grown used to in our quieter moments. This gaze was sharp, guarded, as if he’d already prepared for this confrontation long before it happ

I had attended countless events since marrying Ethan, but nothing felt heavier than the gown on my shoulders that night. It wasn’t the fabric or the jewels...it was the weight of whispers I knew would follow us the moment we stepped into the ballroom. The gala was a fortress of glitter and secrets. Crystal chandeliers spilled light over silk-draped tables, the air thick with perfume, champagne, and carefully veiled cruelty. The city’s elite had gathered in their finest armor: gowns that shimmered like fire, tuxedos sharp enough to cut. And in the middle of it all, we were the spectacle. Ethan’s hand rested firmly on my lower back as we entered, his presence a wall of quiet power. His mask was flawless...cold, commanding, untouchable. But I felt the tension beneath his skin, the way his body seemed carved from stone, every movement too precise. I knew why. It hadn’t even been a week since I’d seen Miguel. Since the seed of doubt had taken root inside me. I hadn’t told Ethan, and t

I couldn’t breathe. The silence after Ethan’s words was worse than the shouting, worse than the fury in his eyes. He was just standing there, clutching Evelyn’s diary to his chest like it was the last piece of him that still mattered. And maybe it was. My lips trembled. I wanted to say something... anything...to break the awful stillness stretching between us, but my throat had locked shut. “I trusted you,” he said finally. His voice wasn’t loud this time. No, it was worse...quiet, tired, so full of disappointment it cut deeper than anger ever could. “And you went through the one place I told you never to touch.” I wrapped my arms around myself, as if I could hold in the panic spiraling through me. “Ethan, I had to. You weren’t telling me anything. Do you understand what it feels like? To wake up next to someone you don’t know if you can believe?” His jaw flexed, his eyes flashing. “You think I don’t carry that burden every single day? You think this is easy for me? Keeping thin