Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 311 - Chapitre 320

Irene I had sworn to keep things professional. I had explicitly told him, less than twelve hours ago, that we were nothing more than doctor and patient. But Dante’s words had poisoned the silence of Isabella’s room. They had twisted inside my mind, clawing at my chest until the sofa felt like a bed of nails and the quiet rhythm of the heart monitor sounded like a countdown. Before I could talk myself out of it, before my logic could override the sheer desperation bleeding through my veins, I had walked down the darkened corridor of the medical wing. I had stood outside his office door, my heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs, and I had knocked. When his muffled voice asked who it was, the name had slipped from my throat before I could choke it back. ”Irene.” An absolute silence followed. Then, the sound of a latch clicking. I pushed the door open before he could change his mind. The office was swallowed in near-total darkness, save for the pale moonlight cu

Romeo“She is sick. It is a clinical diagnosis. You didn't cause her organs to fail.""I did…" I replied, the words tearing out of my throat like shards of broken glass. I turned away from her, unable to look at the sympathy that was trying to replace her anger. I couldn't handle her understanding. I didn't deserve it.I walked over to the edge of my desk, gripping the polished wood until my fingers went numb.“You think she just walked out on me six years ago because her father died? Or just because her mother forced her to?” I let out a harsh, ragged breath. “No… we were inseparable. She left because of what it cost her to keep me breathing. When my father was assassinated, I didn’t want to survive. I was reckless. I was suicidal. I put a car into a concrete retaining wall at a hundred miles an hour.”I turned back to face her, my voice dropping to a whisper.“My liver was lacerated beyond repair. I was dying on a table in a private clinic. The entire estate was at war; they couldn’

IreneRomeo’s arms tightened around me with a sudden, almost desperate strength, as if the sound of my voice had shattered the last thread of his restraint. He pulled me impossibly closer, his chest rising and falling in ragged waves against mine.The moonlight filtered through the tall windows of his office, casting us in silver and shadow.We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. His body trembled against mine, silent sobs wracking him as he buried deeper into the curve of my neck.I held him through it all, threading my fingers through the dark strands of his hair, stroking with a tenderness I hadn’t known I still possessed. His scent, clean antiseptic from the hospital mixed with something uniquely him, warm and masculine, wrapped around me like a drug. Every shaky breath he took vibrated through my ribs, echoing the ache in my own chest. I didn’t rush him. How could I? This tangled man who commanded rooms and lives with iron precision, was untangling in my arms. An

IreneA month can do a lot to a person. Thirty days of quiet routines, of waking up without the scent of antiseptic burning the back of your throat, of learning how to breathe without waiting for the other shoe to drop.For five years, my life had been dictated by the shifting tides of the Galante estate. But tonight, the world shrank down to the size of my small kitchen table, a mismatched deck of cards on the counter, and the click of wooden chess pieces.“You are stalling…” I said, leaning my chin on my palm.Romeo didn’t look up from the board. He was sitting on one of my cheap wooden chairs, looking entirely out of place and yet completely at ease. Tonight, he was wearing a simple charcoal sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing the thick veins in his forearms.“I am not stalling, firecracker.” he murmured, his thumb tracing the top of his knight. “I am analyzing. There is a difference.”“You have been analyzing that specific knight for four minutes.”“It’s

IreneThe present opening lasted for another hour.I stayed near the edge of the patio, leaning against a stone pillar, tracking Romeo's every movement. He helped Elara unwrap a massive, intricate dollhouse, handling the fragile plastic pieces with the exact same focus he used in the operating room. But he was still distracted. Twice, he looked around the yard until his eyes found mine, holding my gaze for a long, heavy second before Dante intentionally bumped his shoulder to snap him out of it.Dante gave him a knowing, subtle smirk—a look so rare on my brother-in-law's face it made my internal alarms go off.Then I noticed Isabella. She was watching me from across the lawn, a soft, secret smile playing on her lips. She didn't look confused or detached anymore. She looked like someone who knew a secret I was completely blind to.They are all in on it, I realized, my chest tightening with a sudden, nervous flutter. Whatever is wrong with him, the whole family knows.As the sun final