Todos os capítulos de My Ex chose My Twin, I Married His Billionaire Stepuncle : Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Valentina’s POVThe cold mountain stream rushed over our boots as we picked our way down the jagged creek bed, the sound of the running water serving as a natural mask against any noise we might make. The sun was dipping fast below the western ridge, painting the sky in violent shades of bruised purple and fiery orange, warning us that our window of daylight was closing rapidly.My right ankle throbbed with every step, a dull, relentless ache that I gritted my teeth against, refusing to let it slow us down. Dante never left my side. His arm remained securely locked around my waist, his body a warm, solid wall shielding me from the chill of the evening air that began to creep down from the peaks.“We’re close,” Dante murmured, his voice low and steady as he scanned the dense tree line ahead. “About a mile down this ridge, there’s an old logging road. A decommissioned utility station sits right off it. It has an encrypted satellite relay that hasn’t been touched in five years.”I looked

Valentina’s POVThe air inside the concrete bunker tasted of damp earth, stale cigarette smoke, and the metallic tang of overheating servers.Across the steel-reinforced table, the monitor glowed with a sickly green illumination, casting long, fractured shadows across Dante’s face. He hadn’t sat down in six hours.Julian had been taken into federal custody before dawn.But Dante hadn’t stopped.His left sleeve was rolled to the elbow, exposing a dark, fading bruise from where the truck’s side mirror had clipped him during the descent off the mountain pass.“The firewall on Serena’s private server isn’t commercial,” Dante murmured, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard with a dry, rhythmic clacking. “This is institutional grade—Swiss banking architecture.”“Which means it came through Julian,” I said, leaning against the cold edge of the filing cabinet. My arms were crossed tightly over my chest. The adrenaline from the ambush had finally burned out, leaving behind a dull,

Valentina’s POVThe descent into Zurich-Kloten was smooth, the Swiss landscape unfolding beneath us as the Gulfstream dropped through the clouds.Through the triple-paned window, everything looked impossibly neat—patches of dark pine forest alternating with emerald pastures, winding roads cutting cleanly between clusters of immaculate homes, and the slate-gray ribbon of Lake Zurich stretching beneath the pale morning sky.It looked like a postcard designed to hide everything ugly beneath layers of clean paint and well-managed banking laws.I sat with my forehead resting against the cool glass, watching the wing flaps adjust as the jet descended.Somewhere down there was my daughter.Four years.Four years of believing Isabella was dead.Four years of mourning a child I had never been allowed to know.And now, somewhere beyond those perfect hills and polished streets, she was alive.My fingers tightened around the armrest.I had imagined this moment so many times during those four year

Valentina’s POVSeveral hours after we left the Zurichberg estate, we were back in the air.The Gulfstream cruised at forty thousand feet over the Atlantic, heading west toward home. The cabin was bathed in the warm, dim glow of recessed amber lighting. Outside the triple-paned windows, the ocean was an infinite sheet of black velvet, unbroken by lights or land.Isabella was asleep against my shoulder.I looked down at her, hardly able to believe that the small, warm body in my arms was real.My daughter.For four years, I had mourned an empty bassinet.Now she was breathing softly against my chest.Her small hand was curled loosely around the lapel of my jacket, as if even in sleep she was afraid to let me go.Across the aisle, Dante sat with his suit jacket discarded over the back of the leather seat, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the strong lines of his forearms.He wasn’t working.For the first time since I had known him, his tablet was dark, lying face down on the small table b

Valentina’s POVThe private terminal at the city airport was quiet when we touched down just before dawn.The early morning mist hung low over the tarmac, catching the amber glare of the runway lights and turning the concrete into a reflective mirror. A black armored van and two sedans were idling near the hangar doors, our security team standing at attention in the damp air.As the Gulfstream’s cabin door hissed open, the cool, damp scent of the seaboard rushed in, carrying the familiar tang of salt and exhaust.I carried Isabella down the metal stairs myself.She was still half-asleep, her head resting heavily against my shoulder, her small arms wrapped securely around my neck. She didn’t stir as the cold air hit us. She simply burrowed deeper into the warmth of my wool coat, one small hand still clutching the wooden rabbit she had refused to leave behind.I looked down at her face.My daughter.Even now, the words felt almost impossible to believe.Dante walked beside us, his hand