Todos los capítulos de The Billionaire's secret baby bride : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

(Isabella’s POV)The room was heavy with silence, the kind that crushes against your ribs and makes it hard to breathe. I stood pressed against the wall, my palms damp, my chest heaving as though the air itself had turned to ash. The hooded man stood opposite Alexander, shadows clinging to his form, his presence poisoning the air like smoke after a fire.Alexander’s men had dragged him in, bound, bruised, but still radiating something sharp, something feral. His head tilted slightly, and though the hood obscured his face, I could feel his eyes. Watching. Waiting. Piercing.The rope burned against his wrists as he twisted slightly, testing it, but not with desperation. With patience. As though he knew the moment of release was already written in his favor.“Take off the hood,” Alexander’s voice thundered, low and lethal, the command of a man who had ruled rooms drenched in blood.No one moved. For a moment, even his men hesitated, as if they feared what might lie beneath that fabric. M

The night bled into silence, the kit came not from peace but from a world holding its breath. I sat alone in my study, shadows swallowing the corners while the fire guttered low in the hearth. The flames did little to warm me. They only mocked me with their restless dance—flickering and alive—while everything inside me simmered cold with rage.Isabella’s face haunted me in fragments—her trembling hands, the way her eyes widened when fear slithered into her veins, the way her voice cracked when she said my name. I replayed the hooded man’s intrusion over and over. Every detail was burned into me like a brand. And every detail screamed one thing: Adrian’s hand was in this.I leaned back in the leather chair, my knuckles whitening around the glass of scotch I hadn’t touched. My men were waiting outside for orders. Loyal, restless wolves, pacing the dark. They knew my moods well enough to recognize the storm that gathered tonight. But they had no idea how deep this would cut.For years, I

The darkness came down like a curtain, sudden and absolute.For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe. My lungs locked up, my heart a frantic drum in my chest. I had been standing near Alexander, but when the lights vanished, the space between us felt infinite, terrifying.“Alexander?” My voice cracked, swallowed by the silence.“I’m here,” he answered immediately, close—too close, his breath brushing the side of my ear. He had moved without a sound. His hand found mine, firm, grounding. “Stay with me.”I clung to him like a lifeline. Every inch of me was trembling, not just from the blackness but from the sound I had heard before the power died—the faint creak of a door. It wasn’t the kind of sound you imagined. It was real, sharp, invasive.“Was that…?” I didn’t finish the question. I couldn’t.He tightened his grip. “Don’t move.”The mansion was never silent. There was always the hum of lights, the faint whisper of air through vents, the muted rhythm of life within its walls. Now, all

(Isabella’s POV)The sight of him stole the air from my lungs.Alexander stood in the doorway of the dimly lit room, his broad shoulders filling the space, his shirt soaked through with blood. It clung to him in thick streaks, dripping from his hands as if the violence had only just happened seconds ago. His eyes — sharp, dark, and predatory — swept over the room before landing on me. And in that gaze, I saw both the man who terrified me and the man who claimed to love me.My heart pounded wildly. Part of me wanted to run. Another part wanted to step into his arms, no matter what shadows clung to him.“Isabella.” His voice was rough, ragged, as though he’d been screaming — or growling. He closed the door with deliberate calm, but the tension in the room only thickened.I pushed myself to my feet, my legs trembling. “You’re… hurt?” The words felt ridiculous, considering the blood covering him.He shook his head once, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. The blood smeared acros

The card lay heavy in my hand, though it was nothing more than a slip of ink-stained paper. But its weight wasn’t measured in paper or ink—it was measured in blood, in the lives already taken, and in the promise that more would be spilled. Mine.The men in the hall watched me carefully, none daring to breathe too loud. They’d seen enough to know that a black card was no simple threat. It was a mark, a sentence. Once given, it was rarely rescinded. And for the first time in years, I felt the faint whisper of inevitability slide along my spine like the edge of a blade.I closed my fist around the card until the edges cut into my skin.Not yet.Not me.Not while Isabella still breathed under this roof.“Double security,” I said, my voice flat, dangerous. “Every exit, every corridor. No one enters this house without being stripped to bone if necessary. I want surveillance doubled, tripled if need be. If the devil himself walks these halls, I want to know before he takes his first breath.”