All Chapters of Too Broken To Be Healed : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Giulia’s POV The sound of Matteo Rinaldi’s voice halted their advance, and I turned to see him approaching. Although his expression was unreadable, I felt a sense of relief at the sight of him, though I masked it behind a veneer of composure. Seizing the opportunity, I walked past the security detail without resistance, knowing that Matteo’s presence alone would deter them from pursuing me further. As I approached him, I could feel his gaze piercing through me. His eyes were complicated, and he reeked of alcohol. Reaching his side, I gently supported him, concern etched into my features. "Baby, what’s wrong with you?" I asked softly, my voice laced with worry. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost." But before he could respond, I shook my head, dismissing the question. "Forget it," I said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Let’s get you home." With a subtle nod from Matteo, we began to make our way out of the casino, leaving behind prying eyes and lingering questions. We used

Alessia’s POV The bright morning light filtered gently into my room. I stirred, fluttering my eyes open. It felt warm. Safe. Like home. No. I swallowed and pushed that thought away. I stood up and walked into the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back at me had endured too much. “Hey,” I whispered to myself. “You’ve survived worse than this. You’ve come this far. You are not allowed to give up now.” After that small pep talk, I stepped into the shower and dressed quickly. I needed to check on my children. I slipped into black shorts and a loose sweatshirt, pushed my feet into flip-flops, and walked out with my phone in hand. I headed toward Tiziana’s room. “Good morning, love,” I said softly, reaching for her small hand. “Good morning, mummy,” she replied in her tiny, cheerful voice. My heart melted. “How is mummy’s baby feeling today?” I asked, placing my hand on her forehead. “Good as new,” she answered proudly. I chuckled. “We’ll

Giulia’s POV I sat calmly at the desk in my room, scrolling through the evidence that had been released on Noemi and Stefano. The video clips. The pictures. The recordings. There was too much material for it to have been gathered by just anyone. If Alessia had taken those pictures and recorded those videos before her supposed death, and handed them to Arianna, why would Arianna wait until now to release them? Arianna was the only known close friend Alessia had at the time. But that soft looking girl did not seem bold enough to orchestrate something like this. Unless she had help. She even had an alibi. I stood up and began pacing. I needed certainty. I needed eyes on her every move. I walked back to my desk and picked up my phone. I dialed Vittorio. “Signorina Giulia,” he answered. “There is someone I want you to monitor,” I said immediately. “Who?” “I will send you her address, workplace, and personal details.” “Understood.” “I want everything. The mall she visits. The

Giulia’s POV After they adopted the child, Greta Conti took over the company entirely. She disregarded my father’s efforts and ran everything herself. Despite his own family needing attention, she always demanded extra care and focus on her wishes. She doted on this adopted daughter far more than she ever had on Noemi, Stefano, or myself. Close to her deathbed, my father learned from his legal intel that Greta Conti had secretly planned to leave everything to this unknown child, whose parents they knew nothing about. Grandma Monica had cancer, which eventually led to her death. My father asked the hospital staff to include dementia in her records, just in case she acted unpredictably in her final days. “So while she appeared saintly to almost everyone, she was cruel to me,” my father admitted, taking a slow sip of whiskey. “And that cruelty turned me into the man I am today.” Matteo Rinaldi’s POV I sat in my study, surrounded by work, but my mind was consumed with though

Matteo Rinaldi’s POV I sat at my desk in the office, with Federico standing opposite me. The weight of recent events hung heavily on my mind. The attack on my children had become a constant source of worry and anger. I turned to Federico, my voice edged with urgency as I sought an update. “Federico, what have we found so far regarding the men who attacked my children on their way to school? Is there any new update?” I asked. “Yes, Mr. Rinaldi,” Federico nodded solemnly, reaching for a tablet to pull up the latest information. The screen illuminated with recorded dashcam footage, showing a fleeting glimpse of the attackers’ vehicle. My jaw clenched as I watched, frustration bubbling within me. “We got the plate number of the car,” Federico explained. “But when we ran a check, the plate number didn’t exist.” My brows furrowed in annoyance. How could they have disappeared so completely, leaving behind no trace? “How is that possible?” I demanded, my voice tight with frustration.