All Chapters of He Regretted It After I Married for His Lover: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"You want to take her place?"My father's hand, holding his cigar, froze mid-air. He looked at me as if I were a stranger, a lunatic. Among all his daughters, my hostility towards Sofia was an open secret.The old-timers in the family used to joke that if Sofia tripped in front of me, I'd probably step aside just to watch her fall harder.The idea of me leaving the heart of our territory for Ashpoint, for the den of a man nicknamed the "Lone Wolf," Nikolai Volkov, to be traded to him like a peace offering, was something my father would never have considered.He knew I would never play a part in his schemes."Just last week," my father said, exhaling a plume of smoke, "you were on your knees on this very rug, begging me to let you marry Dante."My breath caught. Then, in a voice devoid of emotion, I said, "That won't be necessary. Let my sister have our golden boy."My father said nothing, his eyes searching my face. There was no real confusion in them.Between Sofia and me, he had alw

I attended the Falcone family's annual charity gala. In my last life, it was my final public appearance before leaving Verona.When I arrived, the ballroom was already filled with the low thrum of jazz, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the quiet, performative sobs of my half-sister.Sofia was surrounded by a gaggle of girls from allied families, her eyes perfectly red-rimmed, her voice trembling with just enough fragility to inspire pity without losing her dignity.She clutched a lace handkerchief, which only made her look more pathetic."So next month, Sofia is being sent to Ashpoint..." one of the debutantes sighed dramatically."It's a death sentence," another whispered. "And our dear Alessia does nothing. Just stands by and watches. Too busy chasing Mr. De Luca.""At least Sofia understands the greater good," someone added. "To sacrifice so much for the family..."Sofia's slender shoulders trembled. But beneath the silk handkerchief she used to dab at her eyes, a triumphant,

Something slammed into Dante's chest.Sofia threw herself into his arms, clutching the front of his suit as if the marble beneath her feet had just crumbled away."How... how could it be you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.As the words left his mouth, a chilling thought began to take shape in his mind.Sofia's eyes darted away. She lowered her voice, a thread of unease laced with a desperate attempt to hide something."I... I don't know," she stammered. "The Don changed the papers yesterday. They said Alessia went to Ashpoint, in my place."The great dome of the cathedral seemed to spin above him."What did you say?"Dante's grip on her shoulders was so tight it threatened to bruise her collarbones."If she was the one who went to Ashpoint, then the car that drove past me this morning...""Consigliere," a voice called urgently from the door. "Consigliere! The wedding isn't over, where are you going?!"Dante shoved her away as if he'd been burned.He didn't answer. Still in his tailored w

I slammed my foot on the gas, driving like a man possessed.At every underground checkpoint, I bluffed my way through, threatened with my gun, or threw down wads of black-market cash. Sometimes, I did all three at once.I forged border patrol orders, using family privileges I had supposedly abandoned.I shed the pretentious, custom-made suit, threw away the Falcone family crest, and changed into an unremarkable black trench coat, a revolver tucked at my hip.If the men in Ashpoint detected my presence before I could get inside the estate, she would be torn to pieces.Late at night, when exhaustion seeped into my bones, the memories became unbearably cruel.I couldn't get the image out of my head: her eyes looking at me through the car window that morning, cool and distant, as if she had already erased my existence from her life.And in that moment, I finally admitted something I had refused to admit in two lifetimes.I had never loved Sofia the way I thought I did.What I loved was a s

He strode toward me, then stopped dead just a few feet away, as if his damned reason had finally reminded him that I was no longer the Principessa he could righteously step in front of to protect.His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into fists, then uselessly unclenched."I heard on the grapevine," he began, his voice low and strained, "that you were holding your own."I almost laughed.My voice was so flat it surprised me. "At least my head is still on my shoulders."His gaze swept over my face, inch by inch, as if counting every wound he hadn't been there to prevent.In that moment, I saw something utterly foreign in his usually unreadable eyes.It wasn't the relief of finally finding me, not the guilt of a consigliere to his charge, but a spiraling terror, the kind of fear that could drive a man mad.He instinctively reached for the angry burn on my sleeve.I didn't move, but his hand never made contact.His Adam's apple bobbed.Those eyes, which in Verona City were always as