Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 121 - Chapitre 130

It seemed like all I do in my life was run —run from danger, from the past, from Demetrio. Whatever it was, I was always on the run and right now was no different.My chaser was hot on my tail, gaining on me. My lungs burned, my stomach churned, my feet pounded against the ground as I pushed them forward like my life depended on it— it did.Whoever was chasing me wasn’t doing it for funsies nor were they going to high-five when they caught up with me. They meant business, wicked business and I wasn’t going to find out what.“Cellie!” A familiar voice yelled behind me, almost freezing me in my tracks. My heartbeat took on a frantic pace as my knees weakened with fear.No. He shouldn’t be here, how was he here?Gasper’s furious voice sliced through the night as he called out my name again, the single syllable dripping with venom that made my blood run cold. “Stop running, you little bitch!”My legs ached, but I pushed harder, zigzagging through the narrow streets. Shadows flickered in t

Cellie’s POVDemetrio’s expression didn’t soften at my apology; if anything, his jaw tightened, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and pain. He looked like a man holding himself together by sheer force of will, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if I’d broken something in him that couldn’t be fixed.My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach at the thought of it.“Sorry,” he repeated, the word like venom on his tongue. “You’re sorry…” He moved closer, his movements slow, deliberate, and terrifyingly controlled; a sharp reminder that beyond being my lover, he was a dangerous man. He leaned down, his face mere inches from mine, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Tell me, what exactly are you sorry for? To wake up and find you gone? To read that pathetic excuse of a note and realize you thought so little of me—of us—that you’d just disappear? Do you even understand how much you mean to me?”“I didn’t mean—”He cut me off, raising his hand and I swallowed. “Cellie, I was

Cellie’s POVI traced the small stones lining the sleeve of my dress with a trembling finger, anxiety climbing up my throat. There were exactly twenty-five stones. I knew because I’d counted them five times already, a telltale sign that I was nervous.Counting was something that I used to do whenever I felt overwhelmed and more often than not, it always succeeded in calming me down but this time, my chest felt like it was about to explode, my dress suddenly feeling too tight even though I knew it was a perfect fit and the more I stared at my reflection, the more the world around me seemed to blur out of focus. Perhaps it was because of all the crying I had done in the bathroom even without meaning to.The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the Cellie I was used to.Her eyes were wide and rimmed with red, her shoulders stiff under the weight of the black dress that clung to her frame like a second skin. Her blonde hair was swept into a tight bun, a few loose strands framing her fa

Cellie’s POVAbsolute silence echoed throughout the room.I stared at her clutching her cheek. I hoped to God it hurt as much as mine did. I could not bring myself to feel anything but justified. Slapping her back could never heal all the years of watching her stand by while Gasper terrorized my life, with her only contribution actively slut shaming and bullying me every chance she got. I could never fill the family-sized hole I carried around in my chest caused by Penelope and Gasper’s brutality but I had made my peace with that. It was time to cut them off… For good.Penelope stared at me, her wide eyes brimming with disbelief as though she couldn’t believe that I had dared to strike her back.“You...you insolent little-” she started, taking a threatening step forward but the sound of the door opening cut through her words.Demetrio stepped in, holding a pizza box in one hand, his tie slightly loosened as if he had just stepped away from the reception. His gaze swept over the room,

Demetrio’s POVIt had been days since the funeral, and in the quiet moments—those rare, fleeting seconds when the demands of my world fell silent—I found myself thinking about Cellie more than ever. She had been by my side as much as I’d allowed her, so much so that now her presence felt as necessary as breathing.I couldn’t live without her.With my father’s death left a mountain of paperwork. Although he had officially retired after I took over, he had remained a significant part of the organization and continued to work in the background.Deals needed to be closed. Loose ends needed to be tied off. Dead weights needed to be cut off.The days that followed the funeral involved meeting with those that had continued business with my father, officially assuming the role of one and only don of the Italian cosa nostra.I exhaled heavily, tugging hard at my tie as I stepped out into the hallway. There was a lot of paperwork that I needed to attend to, my phone buzzing intermittently with