All Chapters of The Billionaire's Rebellious Bride: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

I sit in silence, my hands pressed together on my lap as Catalina and my mother stare at each other. The air between them feels heavy, like something sacred and fragile lives there. My mother’s eyes are wet but she doesn’t cry. She only looks at her sister with that half-smile she wears when she’s trying not to fall apart.Then she looks away first.“I was never strong like you,” she says, voice breaking just a little. “You always had everything under control.”Catalina laughs quietly, shaking her head. “No, hermana,” she whispers, reaching out to touch her sister’s hand. “You are the strongest person I know. You never gave up, not once. Even when you should have.” Her smile wobbles. “You always smiled, even when your world burned.”My mother’s lips tremble. For a moment, she looks at Catalina like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. Instead, she says something in Spanish, words I’ve never heard before.“La libertad es para quienes sangran por ella.”Catalina’s eyes widen for the sm

I wake up with heavy eyes and a pounding headache. My head feels like it’s been used as a drum all night. The pep talk I gave myself last night clearly didn’t work. I tossed and turned until the early hours, and when I finally fell asleep, it was the kind that leaves you even more tired. I groan, roll over, and stare at the ceiling. My eyes sting. I'm pretty sure I look like hell. The first thing I do is drag myself into the bathroom. The marble floor is cold under my feet, and I wince when it touches my skin. I turn on the bathtub faucet and let the warm water run, filling the tub halfway before I sink in with a sigh. The warmth hits my bones, and for a moment, I close my eyes and let it all fade. The silence, the water, the faint sound of birds outside, it’s almost peaceful.Almost.I end up sitting there for more than an hour. My fingers are wrinkled, and I’m so close to falling asleep in the water when a knock suddenly jolts me awake. My eyes snap open, and I sit up too quickly,

The silence between us lasts for days.It’s not peace, it’s heavy and sharp, like the air before lightning strikes.After that ‘amiable’ discussion in the living room, I stopped talking to him. He doesn’t try either.We live in the same house, breathe the same air, but it’s like we’re ghosts haunting the same space, him in his cold study, me drifting through the hallways like a stranger.Every morning, I hear him downstairs before I even open my eyes, his low voice giving orders, the sound of shoes clicking against marble. He’s always working.Sometimes, I walk past his study just to peek. He sits there in his black shirts, sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on his screen. His hair always looks too neat with his jaw clenched..stupid handsome motherfucker.It shouldn’t bother me. But it does.Because no matter how much I hate him, I can’t stop noticing.I tell myself I don’t care.I tell myself that this marriage is nothing but a word.But deep down, a small part of me still waits for somet

(SANTINO’S POV)The room feels too small after she walks out. The air still tastes like her. My lips still tingle where she kissed me, and my heartbeat hasn’t slowed down since. I sit there for a few seconds, staring at the empty chair across from me, trying to understand what the hell just happened. My tie is crooked, my shirt is half-buttoned, and my suit looks like it was dragged through a storm.I drag a hand through my hair, hard. The motion does nothing to clear my head.When I finally lift my gaze, Lorenzo is watching me with that stupid smirk of his. Marcus stands beside him, wide-eyed but clearly amused.Lorenzo breaks the silence first. “So much for hating her.”I shoot him a look. “I still do.”He laughs, loud and obnoxious. “Yeah? Because it really looked like hate when you had your tongue down her throat, could hear your pig like groans right from across the street”Marcus chuckles beside him. “Maybe he was trying to uncover the secrets of her heart through her mouth.”Th

(Hailey’s PoV)The morning light feels too still, too golden and too clean for what I feel inside.It slips through the curtains and paints everything in this honeyed calm that doesn’t belong to me. The house is too quiet, except for the faint ticking of the antique clock in the living room below. I sit on the balcony, a cup of tea cooling beside me, untouched.It’s the kind of morning that tries to convince you that life is beautiful.The kind that makes lies sound believable.I scroll lazily through my phone, my finger halting over a familiar photo of my parents. An old magazine cover. “The Perfect Couple of Hollywood’s Golden Circle,” the headline reads in bold letters. They’re smiling like their hearts aren’t soaked in blood and regret. My father’s hand rests lightly on my mother’s shoulder, gentle for the camera but heavy in reality. My mother’s smile is the one I know too well, brittle and frozen in place.The comments underneath the photo were all about envy, about eternal lov