All Chapters of Craving The Enemy's Husband: Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

Chapter 222: The Wedding**Christiana’s POV**Pascal had always been the kind of man who carried charm like a second skin, smooth in his words, confident in his touch. But for once, when he came to me that evening before his departure, his aura was stripped of arrogance. He looked… tired.“I saw you both,” he confessed, standing just a few feet away, his eyes heavy but steady on mine.I frowned. “Saw us?”His jaw tightened. “That night. The red room. BDSM”Heat rushed to my face, a wave of memory crashing over me. My lips parted, but no words came. He let out a small, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair.“I thought I had a chance. Foolish, wasn’t it? To think I could just swoop back into your life after so many years, after disappearing, and win you over.” His voice cracked, softer now. “But when I saw you with him… I knew. You were never mine to claim.”I shifted uncomfortably. “Pascal…”He raised a hand. “Don’t pity me. Please. I don’t want your pity. I just… I needed t

Chapter 224: Two Decades Revenge**Bella’s POV**“You know exactly what I mean.”The words slid from my lips like venom, and I relished the way Christiana’s face drained of color. Her grip tightened on that nineteen years old, glowing with youth, the image of her mother’s stubbornness and Bryan’s infuriating charm.For a brief second, the hall was silent except for the buzz of my own pulse in my ears. The guests, frozen like statues, stared as though I’d just risen from the grave. Perhaps I had. Twenty years of iron bars and stinking cells, twenty years of rotting food and whispers about the “murderess Bella Calamida”… all of it forged me into this moment.The security men finally snapped out of their daze, moving toward me like I was some common intruder. Pathetic.I raised my hands gracefully, my smile sharp. “No need to touch me,” I said sweetly, though the poison laced every syllable. “I’ll leave. I know when I’m not welcome. But…” I let my eyes dart back to Christiana, savoring h

Chapter 226: Tatiana Adams**Tatiana’s POV**Six whole months.The thought made my chest swell with a mix of joy and nervousness. For the first time in my nineteen years of existence, my parents, my overprotective, borderline smothering, ridiculously-in-love parents were leaving me on my own.Well, not completely alone. Maria was here. Sweet, loyal Maria, who had been in our household since I have always known. She wasn’t just a maid; she was family. Wrinkles now lined her face, her hair more silver than black, but her spirit? Strong as ever. She had always been my safe place, my late-night snack accomplice, and the keeper of all the secrets I could never tell Mom and Dad.Still, the idea of freedom tingled through me like champagne bubbles. No parents watching my every move, no constant reminders of how they survived love and betrayal and decades of drama. Just me. My college classes. My friends. My choices.I was already making a mental list of things I wanted to do: late-night stud

Chapter 228: Bella's son, Ryan.**Bella’s POV**I had imagined this moment for years.In prison, I built castles in my head out of broken dreams and rage. I told myself that when I finally walked free, I would reclaim everything that was mine: my dignity, my place in society, my power… and most of all, my son.The boy I had avoided years ago, I feel like such a terrible mother. Just look at how Christiana was overly protective of her daughter. Her daughter looked loved. I want that for my son too and it is not too late, as long as I am alive. Now, finally, I was here.The gates of the university loomed tall, buzzing with students moving between classes, laughter echoing through the courtyards. It was a world I didn’t recognize… polished, modern, full of ambition. My heels clicked sharply against the pavement as I followed the directions I had been given.A lecturer. At twenty-eight.My Ryan.I spotted him before he spotted me. Tall, confident, dressed in a pressed shirt and blazer, a

Chapter 230: Tony's Daughter, Stella**Tony’s POV**The sky outside had dimmed into shades of gray, heavy with clouds threatening rain. I walked slowly down the long hall toward the private wing of the mansion where my father’s body had been laid for preparation. Every step echoed like a drumbeat in my chest, reminding me of the finality of death.The halls smelled of polished wood and faint incense, remnants of the rituals already beginning. I passed portraits of Amazli men, stern faces staring down at me from gilded frames, each one a reminder of the legacy I was expected to carry. And now, I was the last of them.I paused at the double doors to the chamber, steeling myself. I wasn’t sure what I would feel when I saw him lying there. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.The doors creaked open, and I stepped inside.The room was dimly lit with candles, their flames flickering against the walls. My father lay motionless on the bed, covered in a white sheet pulled up to his chest. His face