Todos os capítulos de Second Vows Of A Scorned Wife : Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

*Avina*The next forty-eight hours felt less like a wedding countdown and more like a slow-motion car crash. It was like I was a passenger in my own life, being ferried from one gold-leafed room to another. The estate was a hive of activity. Florists dragged in buckets of white peonies that smelled of rain and funeral parlors. Dressmakers hovered around me like moths, their mouths full of silver pins, cinching the waist of my gown until I could barely draw a full breath. I stood on that velvet pedestal, staring at my reflection, feeling the weight of the silk and the secrets pulling at my shoulders. I attended three separate food tastings in two days. Each time, I was presented with tiny, intricate hors d'oeuvres that looked more like modern art than sustenance. "The truffle-infused quail egg is a bit... earthy, don't you think?" the wedding planner asked, her pen poised over a leather-bound notebook. I pushed the plate away, the metallic tang of morning sickness coating the back

*Avina*"You’re such a terrible liar, Avina," he whispered, his eyes searching mine with a terrifying, white-hot focus. "I can smell the lies on your skin. I can see the adrenaline in your eyes."He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear, making the fine hairs on my neck stand on end. The scent of him—rich cedarwood, expensive bourbon, and that underlying metallic tang of cold power—swirled around me, making it hard to think."Are you hiding something from me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated against my skull. "Because if you’re playing a game... if you’re making moves I don't know about... I need to know now. Before we walk down that aisle."I felt the sharp edge of Mason Roberts’ card in my pocket, a literal piece of evidence pressed against my hip. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, but I forced my gaze to remain steady. I wasn't the same woman who had cowered before Xavier. I knew how to fight back now, and someti

*Avina*I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom at the Graves estate, my breath hitching as the stylist secured the final diamond pin into my hair. The reflection staring back at me was a stranger—a woman with eyes that had seen death and a heart that had been reborn in the fires of betrayal. "You’re breathtaking, Ms. Drene," the stylist whispered, stepping back."Thank you," I said, my voice steady, though my stomach was a riot of nerves. I took a deep breath my hands skating down my body as I took in my form.The dress was a custom Galia Lahav creation, a hauntingly beautiful fusion of traditional bridal elegance. It was crafted from layers of ivory silk and French Chantilly lace, so fine it looked like frost crystallized against my skin. It had a dramatic mermaid cut that hugged my curves with a terrifying precision, flaring out at the knees into a cathedral-length train that seemed to swallow the floor. The bodice was a high necked collar of intricate victorian

*Avina*The wedding ring felt heavy on my finger, a circle of platinum and promise that still felt surreal. We were in the back of the armored Maybach, the interior smelling of rich leather and the faint, lingering scent of the incense from the cathedral. Ronan sat beside me, his hand over mine, his thumb tracing the knuckles of my left hand. He looked incredible, powerful, stoic, and for the first time since I’d known him, slightly at peace. "You’re staring, Mrs. Graves," he murmured, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I’m just admiring the view," I countered, leaning my head against his shoulder. The silk of my gown was a mountain of white around my legs. "I can’t believe we actually did it. No explosions. No lightning strikes," I added lightly. "The day isn't over yet," he said, though his tone was playful. I chuckled, shook my head and leaned more on his shoulder. The car was supposed to be taking us to the Grand Regency. The reception was a small, hi

*Avina*For the next half an hour, I kept my distance, my hands gripping the steering wheel of the SUV so hard the leather groaned. My heart wasn’t just thudding heavily behind my ribs, a heavy, rhythmic reminder of the life growing inside me and the girl I was about to lose to the night. I had switched my headlights off blocks ago, relying on the streetlamps and the moon to keep the sedan in my sights. The scenery soon shifted from the lush, quiet greenery of the Graves estate to the jagged, neon-lit grime of the industrial district. Warehouses with broken windows loomed like skeletons against the sky. And finally, the sedan pulled over in front of a building that looked like it was being held together by graffiti and spite. Pun intended. I leaned forward in my seat, squinting at the neon sign flickering above the door which read: The Iron Lung.Of course. The bass from the music inside was so loud I could feel it vibrating in the chassis of my car. It was a low, dirty thrum that