Semua Bab After Calling Off the Engagement, I Became My Ex-Fiancé’s Creditor: Bab 1 - Bab 8

Thunk.The sound of the lock echoed in the quiet street.I turned.Vincent stood on the other side of the bulletproof glass door, casually tossing my unmistakable little canvas bag in his hand. He smirked at me.“I said you weren’t going anywhere, Elara.”All I had now was my phone. I slammed my palm against the cold glass. “Vincent! Open this door! This is a robbery!”“A robbery?” He strolled back to the sofa and sat, crossing his legs. “I’m teaching my fiancée about consequences.”Sofia curled into his side, shooting me a venomous smile. “Just apologize, Elara. Vince is being generous. It’s about to rain. You don’t even have a car.”Vincent pulled out his phone. He made a call, his eyes locked on mine.“Freeze all of Elara Vitale’s cards. Revoke her hotel access. Put the word out to every car service in the city. Anyone who takes her fare is declaring war on the Cassio family.”He ended the call. He tapped the glass with his knuckles.“Your pride is worthless, Elara. Without me, you’

The emerald caught the harsh backstage lights. That ring was my tether to a world before Vincent Cassio, to a family I’d chosen to hide to protect a man who saw me as furniture.His fingers tightened around it.“Three.”My whole body was a tremor. I dug my nails into my palms until I felt wetness.“Two.”“I’ll do it.”The words tasted like ash.Vincent’s smile was victorious. He pocketed the ring and patted my cheek. “Good girl. Now hurry. She’s on soon.”I walked into the nearest bathroom, locking the door. I stared at the ghost in the mirror—pale, dripping, eyes hollow.For five years, I’d hidden who I was. I’d buried Elara Vitale, daughter of Arturo Vitale, the man even other Dons called “The Ghost,” to become Elara Cassio’s quiet shadow. I thought Vincent was building something real, something separate from the bloody legacy I’d run from.I was wrong. I’d fed a wolf and thought it a puppy.Every ounce of humiliation today, Vincent. You will pay for it with everything you have.I di

The fire in the great stone fireplace of Federico Falcone’s private estate crackled, pushing back the deep chill of the night. I sat wrapped in a thick robe, my hair still damp from the shower that had washed away the grime and the cold of the street. On my wrist, my grandmother’s emerald and diamond bracelet was back where it belonged.The family doctor had just finished bandaging my skinned knees and left quietly.Federico walked over, a steaming mug in his hand. He pushed it into my grasp. Hot chocolate, not milk. He sat beside me on the large leather sofa, pulling me and the cashmere blanket around my shoulders into his solid warmth.“The legal team is ready,” he said, his voice a low rumble near my ear. “So are the account managers.”I took a sip, the sweet warmth grounding me. My mind, clear and cold, clicked into place.“Put them on screen.”Federico gestured. A large monitor mounted on the far wall lit up. It split into multiple feeds. On one side, my family’s chief consigliere

Obsession and madness fueled Vincent’s last burst of energy.He dragged his broken leg through a blizzard, crawling inch by bloody inch to the underground garage exit of the Rossetti building.He waited. Three days and nights. No food. Only sips of filthy melted snow.He didn’t have a plan. He just knew he had to see Elara. One more time. He’d grovel. He’d lick her shoes. Anything.On the fourth evening, as the snow fell heavy, a black armored Bentley, flanked by two blacked-out SUVs, nosed out of the exit.Vincent lunged.He threw himself forward, collapsing on his knees directly in front of the Bentley’s grille.THUD.The sound of his knees hitting the frozen asphalt echoed.Brakes screamed.Vincent knelt in the filthy, ice-churned slush. He began to pound his forehead against the ground.Thump. Thump. Thump.Blood, shockingly red, mixed with the grey snow under his face.“Elara! Please! See me!”“I was wrong! I know I was wrong!”“I don’t beg for forgiveness! Just… a job. A scrap. I