Semua Bab Fucked Raw by my Husband's Ruthless Best friend.: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Bella’s POV“What?” Leon said, the word slicing out like he could still pretend this was just another game.I lifted my hand slowly, my fingers trembling, and smoothed a strand of hair that had fallen across my face. I raised my chin until our eyes locked again. I wanted him to see it—the quiet, cold certainty that I wasn’t bluffing anymore. I wanted him to feel the weight of every second he’d underestimated me.He stepped closer. His voice dropped to something guttural, his teeth barely parting. “We both know Veyron Corps went under years ago.”He then said, as he jabbed one finger toward my chest, then back at himself. “We sold it off.”The laugh that followed was loud, and jagged— like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. That old, triumphant sound from the night we carved Julian out of everything he thought he owned. The night we toasted with champagne while the ink was still wet on the forged papers.I waited until the echo died.Then I laughed too. Soft and low. The

Bella’s POVI sat at the dressing table. The mirror was cold under my fingertips. Morning sun sliced through the curtains and burned stripes across my face. I dipped the brush into loose powder. Dust rose like smoke. I dragged it over my cheeks—slow strokes. My hand shook a little. Not from nerves. From rage.Ava.Her name sat in my throat like a stone that I couldn’t swallow.She had marble floors that stayed cool even in summer. Sheets that smelled like clean cotton and him. Leon’s hands on her waist. Gentle and careful. Like she might break. While mine still carried the purple shadows from where he gripped too hard last week.I stared at my reflection. Red lipstick smeared a little at the corner. I licked it clean, tasting the wax. Smoky shadow made my eyes look bigger. Hollow. Just the perfect mask.She doesn’t know a damn thing.No memory of those hotel rooms. The late-night texts. The way Leon’s breath hitched when he pushed inside me. She woke up every day fresh. Smiling. While

Ava’s POVMy fingers trembled slightly as I zipped the black silk dress. The fabric whispered against my skin—cool, smooth, and heavy with the weight of expensive threads. The deep V plunged between my breasts, leaving a long stretch of bare skin that prickled in the chilly room. Thin straps crossed my back like delicate chains. The slit climbed high on my left thigh—every step would flash smooth leg, pale against the dark silk. I turned in the mirror. The dress clung to my hips, my waist, my ass. It felt dangerous. Bold. Like armor made of money.I stared at my reflection for a while. Red lips. Smoky eyes. Hair swept to one side in loose waves. Diamonds sparkled at my ears and my neck—cold stones against my warm skin. I looked every inch the billionaire’s wife. My stomach fluttered. Nerves. Excitement. A tiny knot of something darker I refused to name.Leon had invited me to the Syndicate Gala for the first time. His wife. On his arm. At the most exclusive night event in the entire

Julian’s POVWe sat around the round table. Just the four of us. Leon to my left. Ava straight across. Bella to my right. The white tablecloth felt stiff and rough under my fingertips. Like it had been ironed too hot for the night. The candle flame in the center hissed softly. Wax dripped slow and thick, pooling red at the base. Warm orange light jumped across our faces. Shadows carved deep under Ava’s eyes. It made her look hollow. Tired.Ava sat rigid. Her spine locked straight. Hervhands knotted in her lap so tight her knuckles stood out sharp. Her fingernails dug into her own palms. Tiny red crescents already forming. She kept swallowing. Her throat bobbed slow and dry.I could tell that she was nervous. Her smile stayed pinned on—small, and thin, trembling at the corners. Her eyes darted fast. Bella to Leon. Leon to Bella. Back to me. Wide. Trapped by my presence to close to her. Her breath came shallow, her chest rising and falling too quick under her black silk dress Bella

Julian’s POVI shoved through the heavy doors. Night air slammed into my face—cold, and sharp, stabbing deep into my lungs like broken glass. Lights burned everywhere—gold pouring from the building windows, white beams from waiting limos cutting the dark, and red taillights streaking across black pavement. But the noise died fast. Voices dropped to low murmurs. Footsteps softened on stone. The crowd thinned to shadows. Left me alone with the rage clawing up my throat.I walked fast to the corner. Dark and hidden. No eyes. No cameras. Wall rough and cold against my palms, concrete biting into skin.I let it out.I crashed my fist in the wall. Knuckles exploded open on impact. Hot, tearing pain shot up my arm—sharp, and blinding, like bone splintering under skin. Blood welled fast. Thick and warm as some droplets fell onto the ground.I slammed again. Harder. My skin tore wider as my flesh peeled back. Pain burned brighter, fiercer—hot fire racing up nerves. Good. It matched the furnac