All Chapters of His Bride Of Revenge: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

**Stefano’s POV**I stood on the curb and stared at her.She was closer now than she had been in sixteen years. Close enough that I could see the faint, delicate lines etched around her eyes, lines carved by a decade and a half of laughter I hadn't heard and worries I hadn't caused. I could hear the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing. It was the most haunting sound I had ever heard.Then, her eyes met mine.The air vanished from my lungs. For a few minutes, the universe went completely silent. The hum of distant traffic, the chirping of birds in her garden, and even the presence of Luca standing like a shadow behind me all disappeared. There was only her and me, two souls staring at each other like strangers who almost recognized a memory they were too terrified to touch.She was the first to move.She stepped off the porch, her brows pulling together in a look of polite confusion. She smoothed her apron with a hand.“Hello,” she said softly, her voice melodic and kind. “Can I hel

**Stefano’s POV**I slammed the file shut and shoved it to the far edge of the desk.It had been days since I’d stood on that curb in Porta Nuova, yet my chest still felt bruised, as if a rib had been snapped and left to rot against my lungs. I hadn’t been myself since that encounter, since standing on that curb and realizing that hope was a weakness I had never learned to control.I didn’t know why I had allowed myself to hope.Hope was a luxury I hadn’t been raised with. It wasn't something I survived on during the years Salvatore was molding me into a weapon. I had learned early on that expectations were just a precursor to disappointment, that trusting anyone to stay was the most expensive mistake a man could make.But then Elena happened.She had done something to me, something quiet and irreversible. She had softened the edges I’d spent a lifetime sharpening. She made me imagine things I had no business wanting. A future. A family. Belonging.And that was why this hurt the way i

**Lucia’s POV**Elena lay sprawled on the cold, grease-stained warehouse floor, her body limp and still. Her blonde hair fanned out around her face, making her look as if she had simply fallen asleep in the wrong place at the worst possible time.The sight of her like that sent a thrill straight through my veins.I stood over her, hugging myself lightly against the chill, just breathing in the atmosphere: the damp air, the scent of old rust, and the heavy silence of a successful trap. I had played this scene in my head a thousand times, usually in the middle of the night when jealousy felt like it was eating me alive. I’d imagined her helpless. I’d imagined seeing her finally brought down from the pedestal Stefano had put her on.I couldn’t believe how easy it had been.She was too trusting, too soft, and always desperately hopeful. She was the kind of person who believed people meant well, even when they showed her, over and over again, that they were willing to cut her throat to ge

**Elena’s POV**“What do you want from me, Lucia?”I stared at her, standing there in the dim, flickering light of the basement. She looked perfect, not a hair out of place, her skin glowing, while I felt like I was falling apart. My wrists were pulled behind my back, the rough rope biting into my skin until it burned. My shoulders were locked in an agonizing position, and every time I tried to shift against the cold, damp wall, a new wave of pain shot through my spine. “I left him,” I said, my voice cracking. I tried to pull together some shred of dignity, to make my voice sound steady, but it betrayed me. “I left Stefano. I’m gone. I’m no longer in his life, and I’m never going back. You can have him. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? So why are you doing this?”Lucia didn’t answer immediately. She just stood there, her head tilted, studying me like I was a specimen under a microscope. She seemed to be weighing how much of her true self she wanted to reveal.Then, she laughed.

**Stefano’s POV**I had chosen the worst possible place to stop.That thought hit me the second I stepped out of the car, and the city's noise swallowed me whole. I was in a public square, the kind of place I usually avoided like the plague. Cafés spilled onto the pavement, the air smelling of roasted espresso and expensive perfume. People were everywhere, laughing, arguing, clinking glasses. Life moved on around me without permission, loud and vibrant, while I felt like a walking shadow.I kept my jacket buttoned to the chin despite the afternoon sun. My collar was pulled high, my tattoos hidden beneath layers of fabric. I did not want attention.I had just taken a single step toward the corner café when a voice sliced through the chatter.“Hey. You.”I didn't stop. I assumed it was a tourist lost or a street vendor looking for a mark.“Hey. Tall guy! I’m talking to you.”I stopped.I didn't turn immediately. Years of survival had drilled it into me: never show your face until you kn