All Chapters of The Billionaire's Rebellious Bride: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

(HAILEY’S POV)I sit in the restaurant booth, tapping my fingers on the polished wooden table in a slow, restless rhythm. Tap… tap… tap. I don’t even realize I'm doing it until the sound starts to blend with the soft clinking of spoons and plates around me. My order should have been ready by now. I mean, how long does it take to scoop ice cream? It’s already been close to forty-five minutes. Forty-five. The number rolls in my head like a complaint waiting to burst out of my mouth.The air smells like vanilla, melted chocolate, and warm waffles. All those sweet smells only make me more impatient because I can practically taste the cold softness of the ice cream on my tongue. I need it. Not want. Need. My brain is still trying to recover from everything that happened today, and cold sugar is the only thing I can think of that might calm me down.A soft giggle floats from the table next to mine. I turn my head slightly. It’s that same pair of boys, two high schoolers with backpacks slung

For the first time in a long while, I feel…..ashamed.My hands tremble. Just slightly. Barely noticeable.I curl them into fists and tuck them into my pockets so no one sees. So I don’t see because the sight of my own shaking disgusts me.I tell myself to focus. On anything else. On the meeting. On the men waiting at the shooting range. On the messages. On the faceless bastard playing with my life like it’s a chess piece.But my mind betrays me again.It drags me back to that engagement ceremony…That moment she stood beside me cheeks flushed and her breath uneven in that restroom, voice small but steady, telling me:“I’m not my father.”And I…I didn’t even look at her.I just walked away like she was nothing.Now I can’t stop hearing her voice. I can’t stop seeing her face. And somehow, it feels like the words are stabbing deeper now than they did then.The ride to the shooting range is long enough for guilt to settle into my bones, but I push everything down. I stack every emotion

The drive back home feels unreal. The steering wheel vibrates under my hands, the bashed Jesko groaning with every turn like it also wants to collapse from stress. The cold morning air slips through the cracked window and brushes my face, but it doesn’t calm the heaviness inside me. My chest feels tight. My heart beats too fast and too slow at the same time. I don’t know how that’s possible, but that is how I feel.The guards at the gate stare at the ruined car for a moment before looking away. I drive straight through, letting the tires roll over the broken metal from the gate I destroyed yesterday. The compound is quiet. The sky above the mansion is soft and grey, the type of color that makes everything look tired.When I finally stop the car in front of the entrance, I breathe out slowly. My stomach twists, and I close my eyes for a moment, gathering whatever courage I still have left. My fingers tremble when I release the steering wheel. No matter how strong I pretend to be, r

Third Person POVMarcus stands there, eyes bright with the kind of reckless idea that usually gives Santino a headache. He straightens his tie even though it’s already straight, excitement buzzing through him like he’s just unlocked some ancient secret.Santino drags a hand over his face, exhausted and irritated.Why is nothing working?The dishes he made actual food made with his own hands sit on the table like a cruel joke. He hasn’t cooked in a long time. Not even for himself.“Okay,” Santino mutters flatly. “What did you ‘get,’ Marcus?”Marcus clasps his hands together dramatically. “We need to change the strategy.”Santino lifts one brow in silent judgment. Marcus continues anyway.“You’re trying to win her forgiveness by being… nice.”“That’s the normal human method,” Santino responds dryly.“Yes, but you’re not a normal human,” Marcus shoots back instantly, then narrows his eyes in regret. “I mean you’re not… accustomed… to gentle emotional approaches.”Santino glares.Marcus c

The moment I turn, my eyes land on Marcus first. He stands with his hands folded carefully, as if even he is afraid to breathe too loud. Then my gaze drifts to Santino. He’s still standing by the decorated table, the soft candlelight brushing over his tuxedo like he walked out of a magazine.But all I feel is heat rising in my cheeks not the nice kind. The stupid kind.Because it hits me all at once.There is no event.No party.This man… this man actually made me dress up like a clown just to lure me here for one of his tricks.My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache.I turn sharply and walk away, my heels sinking into the grass like a personal vendetta from God. Each step feels heavier, hotter, dumber. I feel overdressed. Overdone. Overplayed. And I am suddenly painfully aware of how much makeup I put on, how perfectly curled my hair is, how these diamond earrings shine under the garden lights. I feel ridiculous.Behind me, I hear hurried footsteps, long and fast.“Hailey,” Santino ca