Todos los capítulos de From Discarded Wife, Now the Untouchable Heiress : Capítulo 121 - Capítulo 130

Hazel’s POVBy the time Sophia left my office, the rest of the workday flew by in a blur of financial reviews, contract approvals, and endless strategy meetings.Having Marcus and the rest of the guard detail standing outside my doors definitely drew looks from every executive on the floor, but just like I’d told Sophia, I stopped caring. The extra layer of protection gave me a strange sense of grounding. It reminded me that I had too much at stake—and too many people depending on me—to take stupid risks.When my clock finally hit six in the evening, I packed up my tablet, slipped back into my heels, and let the team escort me down to the waiting SUV.The drive back to the penthouse was quiet. The evening sun was setting over Rome, casting a deep amber glow across the ancient stone buildings and busy streets. By the time I walked into the penthouse, the quiet inside felt heavy, almost peaceful after such a chaotic day."Kai?" I called out, setting my keys and leather bag on the entry

Marcello’s POVAn hour ago, I was sitting in the back corner of Caffè Sant'Eustachio, sipping a double espresso while listening to two of my mid-level informants stumble through an update on the docks.Coming back to Rome after two years in London was like stepping back into a poorly managed circus. My dear cousin Kai had been running the Valentino family in my absence, parading around like an untouchable king. But from what I was hearing, the foundation was cracking. He was distracted. Getting soft over a woman.I set my cup down after a few minutes, tossed a folded wad of Euros onto the table, and gestured for my two enforcers to stay put. "I'm taking a walk," I told them smoothly. "I need some air before I have to listen to my uncle lecture me again."I stepped out into the crisp evening air, pulling a silver cigarette case from my jacket pocket. I struck a match, taking a slow drag as I cut through the quieter back alleys near the residential sector.That was when I heard the shar

Kai’s POVThe air inside the main Valentino estate was always five degrees colder than the rest of Rome.I didn't knock. I pushed through the heavy oak double doors of my father’s private study, my dark coat open, my hands jammed deep into my pockets. Reid had already spent the last two hours scrubbing the alley's traffic cams—zero hits on "Marco." No facial match on local registries, no local mob alias on file under that handle. The ghost had simply melted back into the cobblestones.I needed to clear the board. Sullivan had crossed the line by going after Hazel, and tonight, his supply hubs down at the docks were going up in flames."Father," I said, stepping onto the Persian rug. "We're moving on Sullivan's northern warehouses tonight. Reid has the perimeter team ready, and—"I cut myself off.Standing by the grand marble fireplace, swirling two fingers of vintage scotch in a crystal tumbler, was a man who hadn't stood in this room for over a year. He had on a dark leather jacket,

Hazel’s POVThe penthouse was far too quiet.Ever since Kai stormed out this morning after the incident in the alley, the silence in the apartment had been suffocating. I couldn't focus on my book, couldn't sit still, and couldn't stop checking the clock on the wall. Every time the wind rattled the terrace doors, my stomach twisted into a tighter knot.I had spent the last two hours in the kitchen, cooking his favorite pasta dinner just to keep my hands busy, but the food was already sitting warm on the stove, and the hours kept slipping by.Finally, just past nine o'clock, the private elevator chimed.I dropped the dish towel I was holding and practically ran to the foyer.The heavy doors slid open, and Kai stepped inside. His dark coat was soaked from the rain, his hair slightly damp, and his face was carved out of exhaustion and grim resolve. But the second his dark eyes met mine, the harshness on his features melted away, replaced by that deep, fierce warmth he only ever showed me

Damon’s POVI slouched back in the high-backed leather chair in my home office, unbuttoning the top three buttons of my dress shirt and dragging a hand down my face. The mahogany desk in front of me was a disaster zone—blueprints for the Grand Crest Towers project unfolded over half-empty coffee cups, financial reports scribbled with frantic red ink, and three mobile phones lined up on silent, glowing with missed calls.The room itself was usually the one place in the house where I could think clearly. Everything had its place, from the dark wooden shelves lining the walls to the expensive leather-bound files arranged neatly inside the cabinets. Tonight, however, even the order of the room seemed to have surrendered to the chaos of the project. Papers were stacked on top of other papers, several pages had been folded and marked with notes, and the soft glow from the desk lamp did little to make the mountain of work in front of me look any less overwhelming.