All Chapters of His Bride Of Revenge: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

**Elena’s POV**The night was a long blur of shadows. Without food or water, my body felt as if it were being emptied from the inside. There was nothing left of me but the dry, burning ache in my throat and the constant throb of my wrists where the ropes bit deep. Every time I drifted into a light, broken sleep, the cold would snap me awake. I spent hours staring at the peeling paint on the basement walls, watching the gray light of morning slowly crawl through the high, dirt-caked window.I was fading. I could feel my strength slipping away like sand through my fingers. My head hung low, my hair falling over my face like a tangled curtain.Then, I heard it.The heavy basement door groaned open, the sound of wood scraping against wood echoing in the silence. I didn't even have the energy to lift my head. I watched a pair of polished black boots descend the stairs, one slow, heavy step at a time.The person stopped a few feet away. I could feel a cold, dangerous energy radiating from

**Elena’s POV**The sound of the lock turning felt like a physical sting. I didn't lift my head as the heavy door creaked open, admitting a sliver of light that felt far too bright for my tired eyes. Lucia’s heels clicked sharply against the concrete, a mocking sound that announced her arrival long before she spoke."Time to get up, princess," she said, her voice dripping with a fake, sugary sweetness. "Raffaele doesn't like to be kept waiting, and you look like something the cat dragged in."I didn't answer. I didn't have the strength to fight her anymore. The words Raffaele had left behind were like lead in my veins. My father, the man I worshipped, was the reason my mother was dead? And Stefano... the man I had given my soul to... had orchestrated the accident that nearly killed me?The betrayal was so heavy that I felt numb. It was as if my heart had finally decided to stop feeling anything at all just to survive.Lucia stepped behind me, and I felt the sharp tug of the ropes as s

**Lucia’s POV**I shut the door to Elena’s room and leaned my back against the cold wood. My heart was thumping with nervous energy I couldn't shake.I hated her. I hated the way she looked in that red silk dress I had forced her to wear. She looked like a tragic, beautiful saint, and it made my skin crawl. But more than her, I hated the way Raffaele had looked at her. I saw the hunger in his eyes. It wasn’t just the hunger to break her spirit or use her as a tool. It was a dark, possessive spark.I had spent weeks working my way into Raffaele’s inner circle. I had worked so hard to become his right hand, the only person he trusted. I couldn't let some broken princess take that away from me in a single night.If he slept with her and tasted her innocence, he might change his mind. He might decide to keep her tucked away in a bedroom like a doll instead of using her as bait. And if he kept her, I would become replaceable.I wouldn't be replaced. Not by her. Not by anyone.I needed to b

**Stefano’s POV**The house was too quiet.Usually, that kind of silence was a monster. It was the kind of quiet that reminded me of everything I had lost, a heavy pressure that made me want to break things just to hear a sound. But tonight, for the first time since Elena walked out of this front door, I didn't mind the stillness.I leaned back in my leather armchair, my body sinking into the expensive leather. I watched the orange embers in the fireplace slowly turn to gray ash. My mind wasn't on the shipments at the docks or the rival families trying to take pieces of my territory. It was miles away, in a small, crowded cafe uptown.I could still smell the steam of the pepperoni pizza and the sharp scent of roasted coffee. I could still hear the city's chaotic hum through the glass. But mostly, I could still hear Greg.The kid was hard to forget; he had a very sharp tongue. He leaned across the table, his eyes wide with a challenge, and told me that if I was really a "big shot," I s

**Stefano’s POV**The gunshot still rang in my ears, a sharp, metallic hum that vibrated inside my skull. It drowned out the sound of my own ragged breathing. I stared at the red stain spreading across the white marble floor, watching the life drain from Joel in a slow, silent crawl.Usually, when I dealt with a traitor or a failure, I felt a surge of cold satisfaction. It was justice. It was the law of my world. But today, I felt nothing but a vast, echoing emptiness. It was as if the bullet had passed through Joel and hit me, too."Stefano..."I looked up. Martina was still there. She was pressed against the doorframe, her hands clamped over her mouth as if she were trying to physically hold back a scream. She looked ten years older than she had five minutes earlier."Martina, go to your room," I said. My voice sounded hollow, like it was coming from the bottom of a deep well."You killed him," she breathed, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was just a boy, Stefano. He made a m