All Chapters of Married To My Father’s Enemy: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

FinaI was running.Barefoot. Laughing. The sun was warm against my skin and the grass brushed against my legs as I ran through the estate I grew up in. I could hear someone chasing me — familiar footsteps, familiar laughter. I didn’t look back because I didn’t need to. I knew who it was.“Fina, slow down!”I laughed harder and ran faster. Then the sky changed.It darkened too quickly, like someone had pulled a curtain over the sun. The laughter faded. The grass beneath my feet felt wet.Too wet. I looked down. Red.The ground wasn’t grass anymore. It was thick, dark, pooling around my feet. My dress was no longer the cotton sundress from my childhood — it clung to me heavily, soaked.The footsteps behind me stopped.When I turned around, the figure was no longer clear. Just a silhouette. Watching.And then I wasn’t running anymore. I was standing alone in the blood.I screamed. And woke up.For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was.The ceiling above me was unfamiliar in that half

FinaHe didn’t say a word as he carried me into the bathroom.His chest was rising and falling fast, like he had just run a mile. Or like he was holding something in. I didn’t speak either. My body was still trembling — not from fear anymore, but from everything he had done to me. From everything he had made me feel.The bathtub was already drawn.Steam curled softly in the air, fogging the mirror. The scent of something woody and expensive lingered in the water. He stepped in first, then turned and lifted me as if I weighed nothing, lowering me slowly into the heat.I gasped at the contact.The water wrapped around me, soothing and overwhelming at the same time. He sat behind me, pulling me back against his chest. His skin was still warm from the shower. Or maybe from me.He picked up a sponge.And then he began to wash me. My breath hitched.This man — this ruthless, cold, calculated man — who had just denied me mercy, who had threatened, punished, dominated… was now gently washing

FinaThe bathroom was the only quiet place left in the entire mansion.I sat on the toilet lid, elbows on my knees, my phone glowing in my hands as my thumbs hovered over the screen. The marble floor was cold beneath my bare feet, and the faint scent of jasmine soap lingered in the air.Outside the door, I could hear distant movement—voices, footsteps, the rustling of fabric, and preparation for my wedding.My stomach twisted.I stared at my reflection in the mirror across from me. My hair was still loose, falling over my shoulders in soft waves, my face bare except for the dark circles beneath my eyes.I looked… normal. Which was absurd.Because in a few hours, I would be standing before hundreds of people, marrying the most dangerous man in Italy.My fingers tightened around the phone.The plan. Just thinking about it made my pulse race.It had taken hours of quiet observation, careful words, and patience. Everything had to align perfectly today. One wrong move, one tiny mistake, an

FinaThe train rocked gently beneath me as it cut through the countryside, the steady rhythm of metal against rails echoing through the quiet cabin. I sat by the window, my body still but my mind racing.Three hours, since I ran from my own wedding.Three hours since I humiliated one of the most dangerous men in the country.My hands tightened inside the sleeves of my black jacket as I stared at the blur of trees rushing past the window. I should have felt relieved. Free, even.But all I felt was a twisting knot of dread.What have I done?My heart thudded painfully in my chest. I knew Dario. Everyone knew Dario SeveroYou didn’t just run from a man like him.You especially didn’t leave him standing at the altar in front of half the country’s most powerful people.I pressed my forehead against the cool glass.Maybe… maybe when everything settles, I can come back.Maybe when the anger dies down.Maybe he’ll understand someday.Even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew how foolish it

DarioThe water hit my shoulders in hard, steady streams.Hot. Relentless.It ran down my face, my chest, over the bruises blooming across my ribs and the cuts across my knuckles.Blood mixed with the water and spiraled toward the drain.I leaned one arm against the tiled wall, head bowed, breathing slowly.I had killed men before.Many. Enough that their faces no longer stayed with me.Violence was the language of my world. A tool. A currency.You either used it… or you became its victim.And a long time ago, I sold whatever conscience I had left to survive in this life.So normally… The blood didn’t bother me.But tonight—Tonight my mind kept drifting back to her.My wife. The woman who had dared to run from me.A humorless chuckle escaped my throat.She had stood there with a gun pointed at me.Shaking and terrified. But still refusing to bow.That stubbornness. That fire.It crawled under my skin like poison.Most people feared me, some respected me, they obeyed me.But her?She