All Chapters of His Ruin: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

DrisanaI didn’t know how long I’d been sitting on the nursery floor. Minutes. Maybe an hour. Time had stopped making sense.My back rested against the side of Luca’s crib, my knees drawn toward my chest. The room was still filled with all the things that belonged to him.His clothes. His toys. The little stuffed rabbit. The blanket. Everything was exactly where it had been—everything except him.I couldn’t bring myself to leave. There was nothing left to protect. Nothing left to check. And still, I couldn’t make myself move.My fingers kept finding the torn piece of blue fabric I’d pulled from the window latch. I rubbed it between my fingertips over and over, as though the texture could tell me where my son was and, if I held it tightly enough, I could somehow hold onto him.The moment I closed my eyes, Luca’s face appeared immediately. His sleepy little expressions. The way his mouth opened slightly when he slept. The tiny crease that appeared between his brows whenever he was hung

DrisanaThe room smelled like motor oil and old cardboard. The man sat on an overturned crate like it was a throne, one ankle crossed over his knee, watching me with an intense gaze.“Sit,” he said, nodding at a folding chair across from him. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”“Where’s my son?”“Sit down, Drisana.”“Where the fuck is he?” I tried to steady my voice. “He’s fine.” He smiled, easy, unbothered. “Somewhere in this building. Sleeping, probably. Babies sleep through anything.” He tilted his head. “You, though. You look like you haven’t slept in a year.”He extended his hand for a handshake.“We haven’t had the chance to introduce ourselves. I’m Matteo.”I froze.Matteo.Finally the name has a face. That crazy bastard that has been obsessed with my family. I tried to hide my irritation, but it was already too late. Something must have shown on my face because the corner of his mouth lifted. I ignored his outstretched hand.“Tough crowd, huh?”He lowered his hand and

DrisanaThe gun felt heavier than it should have.My fingers tightened around the grip as I stared past Armani’s shoulder.Matteo’s hand was disappearing beneath his jacket.“I should have done this a long time ago.”Something cold rushed through me. He pulled out a gun and raised it toward Armani. Everything happened at once. The weapon came up. Armani moved and my body moved before my mind could catch up. I didn’t know what came over me. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe reflex. Or maybe it was the hatred I still carried for Matteo. Whatever it was, I raised my gun.A deafening crack tore through the room.BANG!Matteo jerked backward. For one second, he remained standing. Then his gun slipped from his hand. His knees buckled and he hit the floor.Silence swallowed the room.I stared at him. I couldn’t hear anything. Not the shouting or the footsteps or even my own breathing. My hand was still raised, still holding the gun. I looked down at it. It was shaking.No.Not shaking. Trembling

ArmaniThe cemetery was quiet when I arrived.A thin layer of morning mist hung over the dark grass, settling between the rows of stone monuments and the old cypress trees surrounding the private grounds.I stepped out of the car in a black suit, the jacket buttoned over a black shirt. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and flowers.Beyond the iron gates, the family had gathered. No outsiders. No press and definitely no curious faces looking for a glimpse of the Moretti family mourning one of its own. Only blood, loyalty, and the men who had built their lives around both.I adjusted my cuffs and looked toward the casket. Matteo lay inside it.I had seen him on the warehouse floor. I had watched Enzo hold him against his chest, begging him to open his eyes.But the casket made the death feel final in a way the shooting hadn’t.There would be no movement.No sudden breath or any chance of him opening his eyes and turning the entire room upside down again.He was gone.And I w

ArmaniIt had been four days since Drisana moved into the annex.Four days since she had walked past me on the stairs and told me not to say her name. Four days since she had begun treating our marriage like an arrangement with carefully defined boundaries, and I had agreed to every one of them.At least, publicly.The annex windows stood across the garden, their curtains drawn halfway. I had learned which one belonged to her bedroom, which one overlooked the study, and which one she left open whenever she wanted fresh air.I had also learned that watching those windows for an hour did not make them open any faster.Luca shifted in my arms.I looked down at my son.He was lying against my chest, his small fingers curled around the collar of my shirt. Agnes had brought him to me twenty minutes earlier, reminding me that I had one allotted hour with him before his afternoon nap.One hour.Apparently, even my time with my own son now came with a schedule. I adjusted Luca against my chest