Todos los capítulos de Married to My Father's Killer: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Ariella barely got the words out before the door creaked open behind her.She spun around—and there he was.Lucien.His tall figure filled the doorway, soaked from the rain. Wet strands of hair clung to his forehead, and his sharp jaw twitched with tension as he stepped inside, closing the door with a quiet, final click.His eyes met hers—dark, unreadable—and for a moment, neither of them spoke.Then he said lowly, “I was going to tell you.”Ariella’s heart pounded in her ears. “Tell me what? That you’ve been hiding the truth? That this entire marriage is a lie?”Lucien stepped further into the room, water dripping from his coat onto the floor, but he didn’t seem to care. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”Her chest rose and fell, her breathing uneven. “Then what was it supposed to be, Lucien? Me marrying my father’s killer? Falling in love with you, only to find out you’ve been protecting the woman who watched him die?”Lucien flinched. “It’s not that simple.”Ariella scoffed. “It

“Then we start now.”Lucien’s voice echoed through the silence that had fallen between them. Ariella stood frozen in the middle of the living room, her heartbeat hammering against her ribcage like a warning bell. Rain still tapped against the windows, the storm outside mirroring the chaos in her chest.She didn’t know what starting now meant. Did it mean finally telling the truth? Did it mean ripping open the wounds they’d both avoided for too long?He moved first, his footsteps deliberate as he walked past her and sat down on the couch. “You want answers, Ariella. I’ll give them. But not all at once. Not like this.” His fingers rubbed at his temples. “You need to understand the kind of fire you’re walking into.”“I’m already burning,” she said hoarsely, turning to face him. “So stop speaking in riddles.”Lucien looked up at her then, and in his eyes, she saw something she hadn’t expected—guilt. Not the cold, calculated indifference she was used to, but a haunted kind of regret that m

The storm had passed, but the silence that followed was worse. It was the kind that hummed through your bones and left you listening to every breath you took, wondering what was real anymore. Ariella hadn’t slept. The sky was just beginning to turn gray when she pushed herself off the floor. Her eyes burned, her body heavy from crying, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Every word Elise said, every look Lucien gave her—it kept replaying like a wound she couldn’t stop touching. She walked to the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back. Pale skin. Red eyes. Hair tangled from the night. There was something haunted about her reflection, something she didn’t want to admit was her. She opened her drawer, her fingers brushing against the silver cross her father had given her years ago. It used to make her feel safe. Now it just made her feel lost. A sudden creak echoed from the hallway. Her heart jumped. For a moment she thought it was Lucien—but when she opened the d

The morning light crawled into Ariella’s room slowly, like it was afraid to disturb her. She hadn’t really slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—Lucien—standing too close, his voice low, his breath mixing with hers, and that moment… that almost happened. Her fingers brushed over her lips as if to erase the memory, but it lingered, stubborn and warm. She sat up and exhaled shakily. The air felt heavy, charged with everything left unsaid between them. A soft knock sounded on the door. Her heart jumped. “Come in,” she said, even though part of her wanted to pretend she was still asleep. Lucien stepped inside, still wearing the same dark shirt from the night before. The first few buttons were undone, his sleeves rolled up. His expression was unreadable—calm on the surface, but his eyes gave him away. He’d barely looked at her since last night. “Breakfast is ready,” he said quietly. Ariella nodded without meeting his gaze. “Thanks.” He turned to leave, but something

Ariella didn’t sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucien’s face—his cold expression, the way his voice lowered when he said she didn’t understand what kind of man he truly was.Now she did. Or at least she was starting to.The mansion was quiet at dawn, the kind of quiet that made every breath sound too loud. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the faint light crawling through the curtains. Her thoughts were a storm she couldn’t escape.A soft knock on her door.She froze.When she opened it, Lucien stood there, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp like he’d been up all night too. “You didn’t sleep,” he said flatly.“Neither did you,” she replied.He didn’t answer, just walked in, shutting the door behind him. There was something unreadable in his eyes—some mix of exhaustion and control.“What do you want from me, Lucien?” she asked quietly. “Because I’m done being confused.”He studied her for a long second, then said, “You want the truth? Fine. But onc