All Chapters of Falling for my Saviour: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Morning light slipped into the house quietly, brushing over furniture and polished floors as if it were trying not to disturb anything. The stillness felt gentle at first, but once footsteps echoed from the guest room hallway, the atmosphere shifted just enough for the change to be noticeable. Valeria had already made herself comfortable. She stepped out of the room Mara gave her wearing a short silk robe the color of champagne, tied loosely at her waist as if she didn’t believe in knots. Her hair was brushed to fall in soft waves over one shoulder, and she walked barefoot through the living area as though she had woken up in her own place. She paused in front of a mirror, adjusted the robe so more of her thigh showed, then smirked at her reflection before continuing down the hall. She liked the way the house smelled different now that she was in it. She had sprayed her perfume freely before leaving her room, letting it linger behind her like a trail. Expensive, floral, the type

Valeria started her plan the very next day. She didn’t walk in loud or dramatic. She didn’t slam doors or announce herself the way she normally would. She moved like someone who had already decided she belonged here and didn’t need permission. She wore a silk robe tied at the waist, the kind of robe meant to be seen, not slept in. Her steps were light, almost playful, as she made her way from room to room, leaving her perfume behind like a calling card. Mara froze when she saw her in the kitchen. Valeria had opened half the cabinets already, pretending she couldn’t find a cup even though the glassware cabinet was wide open beside her. Mara watched her with the expression of someone who desperately wished she worked in another house. Valeria didn’t offer a greeting or explain what she was doing; she simply reached into Mara’s personal mug as if it belonged to her and filled it with water from the fridge. She walked toward the sitting room with the mug in hand, humming softly. S

Aria I walked into the sitting room because I heard voices near the entryway, and the moment I turned the corner, my steps slowed on their own. Damien stood by the door with two people beside him. A woman and a teenage boy. They looked tired, like they had been standing in the heat too long. The woman held her hands together in front of her chest as if she was trying to stop them from shaking. The boy stayed close to her side, staring up at Damien and then at me like he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to look. I stopped a few feet away, trying to understand what I was seeing. Damien’s expression wasn’t cold, but it was different from anything I had seen on him before. He kept his eyes on me in a way that felt careful, almost nervous, as if he wasn’t sure how I would react. “Damien… who…” I started, but the woman beside him gasped before I finished. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she took a shaky step forward. Her eyes filled instantly, and she tried to blink fast as if she

Aria I never sat in front of a therapist until that moment. Damien had handpicked the best, and my psychologist also recommended her to work alongside her on this journey of recovery for me. The decision was made so quickly I barely had time to argue with either of them. One minute they were discussing treatment plans and recommendations, and the next minute I was sitting in a quiet office with soft chairs and shelves filled with books that looked too wise for me to touch. The therapist Dr. Renée didn’t look like someone who wanted to dig through my trauma. She looked like someone who wanted to sit with me through it. She had gentle eyes and a steady way of speaking that made everything feel safe even when nothing inside me felt steady. She didn’t start by asking about my childhood. She didn’t start by asking about the cartel or the memories I couldn’t reach. She started by asking me one simple question. “Aria, how are you holding up today?” Something inside me cracked at

Damien’s POV I didn’t make it back home after leaving the factory. I couldn’t. My mind wasn’t steady enough to face Aria yet, and I knew she’d see right through me the moment she looked at my face. I drove to the smaller safehouse instead and told my men to gather everything they had on the attack. Files. Names. Any piece of information that could tell me who wanted to send that message so openly. I sat behind the desk in the back room and opened every folder they handed me. None of it made sense yet. Nothing pointed clearly to who struck first. But the more I read, the more the fire inside me grew. Every picture showed damage that shouldn’t have been possible without inside help. Every angle of the explosion looked planned. Directed. Guided. Someone helped them. I pushed a stack of papers aside and leaned back, rubbing my forehead. My chest felt too tight, and I could barely sit still. I kept imagining the faces of the workers who didn’t make it out. I kept thinking about the