All Chapters of I Faked My Death, He Lost His Soul: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The thought was an ice pick to his heart, freezing the blood in his veins.A primal, nameless terror—the fear of permanent loss—yawned open beneath him, threatening to swallow him whole.He shoved past his mother, past the grasping hands, and ran.He burst from the chaotic cathedral like a madman.His armored Maybach became a projectile, screaming through intersections, running every red light, until it skidded to a halt before the smoldering, blackened skeleton of the Castell estate.Fire hoses still arced water. The air reeked of acrid smoke and char.Renato stumbled from the car. The sight of the ruins squeezed his heart in a vise of pure agony.“Aria!”His voice was a raw scream. He ignored the shouting firefighters, charging into the steaming wreckage.“Sir! It’s unstable!” A fireman grabbed his arm.Renato threw him off, eyes wild. “She’s in there! Let me go!”He was insane. He clawed at scorched timbers and jagged stone, his expensive suit tearing, his hands slicing open on shar

The car window slid down. Renato didn’t even turn his head.“Remove her.”A bodyguard emerged, dragged the sobbing Seraphina from the road.The car sped away.Renato closed his eyes. He felt nothing. Only a cold void where Aria should be.Nights were torment. He drank to sleep. And dreamed.He dreamed of her falling, of her shivering in the dark, of the explosion. He always reached for her, always failed.He’d wake in a cold sweat, heart hammering.He became a ghost in his own empire, volatile and cruel.His mother forced him to attend a high-society gala, hoping it would help.No one had guessed that losing that troublesome Aria would also destroy their Don.He stood in a corner, drink in hand, a hollow shell in an expensive suit. The chatter and music grated on him.Then he saw it—a flash of red dress, a familiar tilt of a head, a laugh that echoed hers.“Aria!”He lunged, shoving through the crowd, grabbing a woman’s wrist.She turned, startled and angry. A stranger.The light died

The whispers were needles stabbing into Renato Castell’s nerves, but he couldn’t care less about the crowd, about the flashing cameras.His world had narrowed to Aria’s cold, impassive face.“No! It wasn’t real! That wedding meant nothing! I never accepted it!” His voice was raw, scraping against his throat. “Aria… I was wrong. I know I was wrong! I shouldn’t have bound you with those damned rules! I shouldn’t have doubted you! I shouldn’t have taken her side! I regret it! I beg you… come back with me! No more rules! No more restrictions! Do what you want, go where you want! I’ll give you anything! Just… don’t leave me… I can’t exist without you…”The Don of the Castell family, a man whose word was law across the city’s underworld, was on his knees in a foreign airport, clutching at a woman’s coat like a beggar, pleading for her to look back at him.The spectacle silenced the terminal.Aria’s body stiffened for a split second.Seeing his bloodshot eyes, hearing his ragged, desperate co

Aria turned to him, surprised.Kaelan kept his eyes on the winding road, the city lights reflecting in his green eyes. “It was at a private track outside Milan. You were, what, seventeen? With your father and that… stepsister. The sister tried to sabotage your bike before a race. You didn’t say a word. Just got on, won by a mile, and stood there in your leathers with this… this arrogant, brilliant smile. I thought, ‘Now there’s a girl who knows how to live.’”Aria was speechless. She had buried that memory, that version of herself.“Shame,” Kaelan continued, a note of real regret in his voice. “Back then, you only had eyes for Renato Castell and his ‘duty’ and ‘honor.’ I may be reckless, but I don’t chase what’s clearly fixated elsewhere. So I stayed away.”His words were a stone dropped into the still waters of her heart. Ripples spread.Someone had seen her. The real her. Not the polished doll, but the fierce, competitive girl. And he’d remembered.Something shifted between them.The

With each revelation, Renato crumpled further. He swayed on his knees, his face a mask of ashen horror. The sanitized versions he’d told himself evaporated, leaving only the brutal, ugly truth.“No… that’s not… Aria, I…” He had no defense. The weight of his crimes was crushing him.Staggering to his feet, desperate to escape her gaze, he stumbled against her small travel case, still by the door. It spilled open.Mechanically, he bent to gather her things. His fingers brushed against something stiff in a hidden compartment. He pulled it out.A medical file. From a discreet clinic in Zurich.He opened it.Diagnosis: Severe second and third-degree thermal burns to lower abdomen and upper thighs. Significant tissue damage. High risk of permanent scarring and contractures. Recommended treatments: Multiple skin grafts, intensive physical therapy. Psychological assessment notes: Patient exhibits symptoms consistent with PTSD (acute). Cause of injury documented as ‘scalding liquid.’Scalding l