Semua Bab The Billionaire's Broken Bride: Bab 41 - Bab 50

I don’t remember breathing after reading those words.I don’t remember blinking.All I knew was that the phone burned in my hands. The letters were seared into my brain like a brand I couldn’t scrape off:You’re next.The library felt suddenly too small, like the walls were inching closer. The smell of old paper and dust turned suffocating, the silence pressing down until it was deafening. My fingers trembled, leaving smudges on the screen as I tried to hold the phone steady.I should’ve run to Ethan. I should’ve screamed for him. But instead, I sat there, frozen, my body stiff as a corpse. Because another part of me whispered—what if he already knew? What if he was part of this too?The thought was poison, but it slid in smooth, easy, the way all doubts about him had been lately.My heartbeat thudded against my ribs, uneven, frantic. The chandelier’s glow overhead blurred, the golden light scattering into sharp fragments.I forced myself to breathe, shallow, quick gasps. I couldn’t l

The days blurred after that night. Ethan’s words—“I’m not your enemy”—echoed in my head until they sounded like both a vow and a threat. I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But every time I closed my eyes, Evelyn’s hollow stare returned. And every time I opened them, Ethan’s silence was there, thick as smoke, choking me with everything he wasn’t saying. The mansion had grown colder. Not literally—if anything, the August heat pressed against the walls, humid and suffocating—but there was a draft now, invisible, creeping into my bones. The air between Ethan and me was taut, pulled so tight it hummed. He left earlier, came home later, his phone glued to his hand, his jaw perpetually clenched. I watched him from across the dining table, from the hallway as he barked orders into the phone, from the edge of our bed when his side stayed cold long after midnight. I watched, and I wondered: was he building a shield to protect me—or a cage to trap me? I didn’t ask. I didn’t dare.

The storm had passed by morning, but the air in the mansion was heavier than before—thick, metallic, as though the walls themselves had absorbed every scream, every silence, and now they were bleeding it back into the air. I hadn’t slept. Not really. I had curled up on the farthest edge of the bed while Ethan remained on the other side, his back turned, his body rigid as stone. The space between us had never felt wider. When I finally rose, the curtains were still drawn. The faint glow of daylight seeped through, pale and gray. My body felt like lead as I stood, dragging myself toward the mirror. My reflection startled me. Hollow eyes, lips cracked from the salt of dried tears, skin pale against the dark silk of my nightdress. I didn’t look like Ethan Navarro’s wife. I didn’t even look like Ariana De Leon anymore. I looked like someone’s shadow—fading, fragile, waiting to be erased. A knock startled me. Too soft to be Ethan

The sound of his voice froze me in place. “Ariana.” Ethan’s tone wasn’t angry, not yet—but it was deep, steady, the kind that carried weight. The kind that could unravel me with just one word. My pulse hammered against my ears. I could feel Miguel’s gaze on me, sharp as a blade, savoring the tension. He didn’t move to open the door. Instead, he tilted his head and whispered, almost smug, “Seems your husband doesn’t trust you after all.” I wanted to slap that smirk off his face. Instead, I took a breath and crossed the room, each step heavier than the last. My heels sank into the thick carpet, my throat constricting with every second Ethan stood on the other side of the door. My fingers brushed the cold brass handle, but before I could turn it, Miguel’s hand landed on my wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was enough to stop me. His voice dipped low. “Think carefully, Ariana. Open that door, and you

The house felt too big that morning. I woke to silence—not the peaceful kind, but the kind that made your chest tighten. The sheets beside me were still warm, so Ethan must have slipped out of bed not too long ago. I could still smell his cologne faintly on the pillow, that sharp, clean scent that used to comfort me. Now it only reminded me of how close he was and yet how far he felt. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the air-conditioning and the faint sounds of the city outside. Cars honking in the distance, a dog barking somewhere beyond the gates. Normal life kept moving, while inside me everything had slowed to a crawl. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I wrapped the silk robe tighter around my body. My skin felt cold, though the sun was already spilling light through the tall windows. Downstairs, the staff moved quietly, like they knew something was wrong but didn’t dare speak it. Every