Semua Bab I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband: Bab 301 - Bab 310

Romeo “Camilla. You called me Camilla.” The words hit me. It felt like something inside my chest collapsed the moment she said it. I could not breathe properly for a second and I could not understand what she meant because it did not fit anything I had believed for five years. For five years I had been certain of one thing. That Irene had been reckless that night. That she had stolen my car out of impulse or immaturity or some stupid need to provoke chaos in my life. That belief had been convenient. It had justified distance. It had justified control. It had justified everything I had done since. But now it did not hold. A memory surfaced that I had buried without realizing it. I saw the nightclub again, loud and suffocating, the kind of place where grief makes people reckless. I remembered drinking too much, barely holding myself together. I remembered her steadying me, holding me upright when I could not stand properly on my own. Though I was too lost inside myself to c

Romeo“What is going on between you and Irene?”The question didn’t belong in the air between us. It shouldn’t have existed at all in a moment like this. And yet it did, hanging there in the narrow hallway like something sharp I had no safe way to touch.I looked at Camilla. The face I had searched for in strangers for years. The voice I had reconstructed in memory until it became something larger than reality. For so long she had been the center of everything I could not let go of.But right now, none of that mattered.All I could hear was Irene’s footsteps disappearing down the corridor.I didn’t answer immediately. I couldn’t. The words refused to form in any order that felt survivable.Instead, I reached for Camilla’s hand. Her skin was cold, almost shockingly so. I held it tightly, as if warmth alone could reset everything inside me.“Let’s go back inside,” I said quietly. My voice came out rougher than I intended. “You’re freezing. You need to sit down.”Camilla didn’t move.She

RomeoThe medical wing was the quietest part of the estate. But tonight, the silence in the room felt almost suffocating.I pushed the door open without making a sound, stepping into the dim light. The steady, rhythmic hum of the monitors was the only proof that the world was still turning.I moved to the side of the bed, my eyes immediately scanning the screens. Habit. Duty. It was the only armor I had left that still fit perfectly. Isabella’s vitals were completely stable. Her breathing was even. In sleep, the terror and confusion that had haunted her for the last five days were gone. She looked exactly like the woman who had held our family together.I adjusted her IV line, making sure the drip was steady, before stepping back.It was only then that I looked toward the foot of the bed.Irene was there.She hadn’t gone back to her room. She was curled up on the edge of the mattress, her knees pulled toward her chest, deeply and completely asleep.For a long time, I just stood there

IreneSeven days can change the entire landscape of a house, but it hadn’t done a single thing to clear the exhaustion anchoring itself inside my bones.For a week, I had lived in a blurred loop of split-second naps, lukewarm coffee, and a rotating shift of keeping Isabella grounded. My hair was thrown up in a claw clip, my clothes were wrinkled.But today was a milestone.“Your vitals are exceptionally strong today, Isabella,” Romeo’s voice broke the quiet hum of the intensive medical suite. He unclipped her chart, his clinical tone perfectly practiced, though the dark circles under his eyes mirrored my own. “The internal bruising is healing beautifully, and your blood volume has finally stabilized.”I stood near the door, arms crossed, watching him slide his pen into the pocket of his navy scrubs.“Which means…” Romeo continued, offering Isabella a small, genuine smile. “You have officially graduated from the intensive medical suite. We are moving you to the south wing today. The ro

RomeoThe glass of scotch sitting on my desk had been there for nearly three hours. But I had not touched it. The drink was there out of habit more than desire.I did not want the numbness. Numbness was a luxury I had not earned.Leaning back in my leather office chair, I pressed the heels of my hands against my burning eyes and exhaled slowly. Exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. There was a relentless ache pulsed behind my temples, sharp enough to make every heartbeat feel like a hammer striking against my skull.For seven days, I had barely slept.Two hours a night, if I was lucky.I had confined myself almost entirely to the medical wing and my office, existing on little more than black coffee and the crushing weight of thoughts I could not escape. Every hour had blurred into the next until time itself had become meaningless. There was only Isabella’s recovery, Irene’s exhaustion and the growing certainty that I was finally being forced to face truths I had spent years a