Semua Bab I Took The Bullet He Lost His Mind: Bab 1 - Bab 10

I thought last night was the worst it could get.I was wrong.The next morning, my phone exploded with calls."Elara, have you seen the news?" my friend Sarah's voice was panicked.I opened my phone. A high-definition photo stared back at me.Me, in a wine-stained white dress, standing miserably in the rain.The headlines were sickening.COSTELLO'S MISTRESS HUMILIATED AT ENGAGEMENT BASH.FROM ART STUDIO TO BEDSHEETS: INSIDE THE DON'S AFFAIR.My face was everywhere. Blown up, analyzed, shared.The phone rang again."Miss Elara Vance? This is a reporter from the New York Herald. I'd like to ask about your relationship with Dante Costello—"I hung up.Another call."When did you and the Don get together?"Hang up."Do you think Isabella Rossi's actions were justified?"Hang up.I turned off my phone and collapsed onto the sofa.For five years, we'd been so careful. Never a single public touch.Overnight, all of it was for nothing.By the afternoon, the news had vanished.Every article, ev

It wasn't my presentation.It was a slideshow.High-definition photos.Of me and Dante. In bed.Me, on top of him, head thrown back in pleasure. His hands gripping my waist, his face a mask of pained ecstasy.Another photo of me, kneeling before him.My lips on his..."Oh my god!""What is this?""That's disgusting!"Gasps and murmurs erupted from the audience.I stood frozen on the stage, feeling the entire world watching my most private moments.When were these photos taken? I had no idea."Turn it off! Turn it off now!" I yelled at the tech crew.But the photos kept changing.Each one more explicit than the last.I saw Isabella in the audience, covering her mouth with her hand to hide a smirk.It was her. It had to be.I stormed off the stage. Straight for her."You did this!" I grabbed her arm. "How did you get these photos?""I have no idea what you're talking about," Isabella said, feigning innocence. "Maybe you took them yourself? For blackmail?""You bitch!"I raised my hand to

The air in the Blue Moon’s private room was dead.I followed Dante inside and immediately felt it.Isabella sat at the card table, her face chalk white, her hands shaking.On the table was a silver-plated revolver."Dante!" She saw us and threw herself into his arms. "Save me! I'm so scared!"Across from her sat Marco Valenti, a cruel smile on his seventy-year-old face."Right on time," he said to Dante. "Your fiancée owes me fifty million. Plus interest.""I can give you the money," Dante said, holding Isabella tight. "Right now.""No, no, no." Marco shook his head. "Money is boring. I want her to play a more interesting game."He pointed to the gun on the table."Russian Roulette. Six chambers, one bullet. If she's lucky, she walks out of here alive."Isabella started sobbing. "I won't do it! Dante, I don't want to die!""She knew the stakes when she sat down," Marco sneered. "The penalty is death."Dante shielded Isabella behind him, his eyes filled with killing intent."Let me take

"Someone as low as me?" I repeated the words, my voice soft.The guests around us were watching, whispering."Isabella, I'm leaving tomorrow," I tried to explain. "The contract is—""Leaving?" Isabella cut me off, her voice sharp. "You think you can just walk away?"She looked around, making sure she had an audience."Everyone, did you know? This Miss Elara actually thought she could compete with me, the real fiancée." She laughed mockingly. "A restorer who slept her way to the top, really thought she could become the Don's wife?"The guests murmured, some shooting me looks of contempt."What's even funnier," Isabella went on, "is that she thought Dante would give up the alliance between our two families for her. What a joke!"I felt their scornful gazes, but I was already numb."Are you finished?" I asked calmly."Not even close," Isabella's eyes flashed with malice. "I want everyone to know your real place in Dante's heart. You're worth less than a dog."I turned and walked out of th

Dante's POVI stood in front of Elara’s apartment, my hand trembling as I slid the key into the lock.The door opened. Her scent—lavender and turpentine—hit me like a fist.A ghost's hand wrapping around my throat and squeezing.I locked the door behind me, trapping myself in her space.The world was shut out. It was just me and her ghost.Everything was exactly as she’d left it.A hollow in the sofa cushion, as if she’d just stood up.On the coffee table, a half-empty cup of coffee. An ugly green flower of mold had bloomed inside.On the easel, an unfinished landscape painting stood silent. The paint was still wet where she'd made her last stroke.Sunlight sliced through the dusty windows. Dust motes danced in the beams.The silence was a tomb.My tomb.I walked into the bedroom. I lay down on her side of the bed and buried my face in her pillow.Her scent surrounded me. So familiar, so impossibly far away.I closed my eyes and, for the first time, I let myself think.It wasn't her