All Chapters of Ex Luna's Revenge : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Luciano De Luca’s POV Giacomo’s words did not exactly surprise me, yet they stirred something I had believed long buried. A quiet irritation rose from beneath the surface, sharp and persistent, refusing to be ignored. “So you are dating her,” I said, my voice low, edged with displeasure. Giacomo tilted his head slightly, his expression far too amused for my liking. “Is that what I said?” he replied, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. I did not have the patience for his games. Not tonight. Not when Chiara stood only a few rooms away, looking like something entirely out of my reach. “You are failing as her protector,” I said flatly. That caught him off guard. His brows lifted slightly, surprise flashing across his face before he masked it. “What are you talking about?” “Every man in this room has been watching Chiara since the moment she walked in,” I continued, my voice tightening despite my efforts to remain composed. “They are staring at her, undressing her with their

Chiara’s POV “She has to be drunk.” “There’s no way any of that is true.” “Luciano would actually marry Silvia Romano? After everything she’s done? Impossible. It has to be a lie.” The whispers spread like wildfire through the room, low at first, then rising, overlapping, colliding into something ugly and suffocating. Each word felt like a needle pressing into my skin. Slowly, I sank deeper into myself, my fingers curling tightly in my lap as if I could hold myself together through sheer force. Across from me, Julia stared in open shock, her expression crumbling as she tried to make sense of what had just been thrown into the open. Her lips parted, as though she wanted to ask me something, to demand the truth from me directly. But I couldn’t speak. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Because the truth… the truth was worse than anything they were whispering. Silvia had exposed everything. Just like that. Without hesitation. Without restraint. Without a single thought for

Giacomo’s POV Giacomo had known Luciano De Luca for most of his life, had seen him in battle, in court, in moments of triumph and cold authority. He had always been unshakable, a man carved from discipline and power. But this version of him felt… wrong. The man beside him no longer looked like a king. He looked like something hollowed out from the inside, like a man carrying a weight too heavy for even him to bear. His body was slumped, his forehead pressed against the steering wheel as though the simple act of holding himself upright had become too much. “I should pull over,” Luciano murmured, his voice low, strained. At least he still had enough sense left to recognize his limits. Giacomo said nothing as Luciano lifted his head and guided the car off the road, steering into the empty parking lot of a quiet park. The place was deserted, swallowed by the stillness of the night. No witnesses. No interruptions. Just the two of them. And whatever storm was about to break. The e

Luciano’s POV “Enrico will pull through,” Doctor B said. The tension that had been strangling my chest finally loosened, if only slightly. Giacomo, my mother, and I all released a breath at the same time, as though we had been holding it for hours. “Is he awake? Can I see him?” my mother, Isabella De Luca, asked, her voice trembling with fragile hope. “Yes,” Doctor B replied, gesturing toward Caterina, who stepped forward immediately. “Follow her. She will take you to him.” “Thank you… thank you so much,” Isabella said, her eyes already glistening with tears as she hurried after Caterina without another word. Giacomo moved to follow, but then paused, his gaze shifting between Doctor B and me, as if weighing something unspoken. “Go,” I told him. “I will come after I speak with Doctor B.” Even then, he hesitated. His eyes flicked once more toward Doctor B, and in that fleeting second, something passed between them. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. A silen

Giacomo’s POV Giacomo woke later than usual that morning, the sunlight already spilling across his room by the time he finally stirred. Because of that, he missed the morning broadcast and only learned about the latest report on Silvia when he unfolded the newspaper over breakfast, a glass of mimosa resting beside his plate. Halfway through reading, his appetite faltered. Not enough to make him stop eating, but enough to leave a sour taste behind. Silvia had to be playing some kind of game. That was the only explanation that made sense to him. How else could such a story have reached the media? Luciano would never have said a word. Giacomo himself certainly hadn’t. And the man who had been exiled? No one would take his word seriously, not after everything. So who else knew? And more importantly… who would be believed? The shrill ring of the telephone cut through his thoughts. His butler answered it promptly, as always. “One moment, sir,” the man said before approaching the