All Chapters of The Bride In The Wrong Wedding : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

"Breeding."The word hung in the cold, jasmine-scented air of the atrium, toxic and heavy. Isabella stared at the woman who had given birth to her, her mind violently rejecting the grotesque reality of the scene. Eleanor Vance’s perfectly manicured hands rested elegantly on the marble banister, her dark, aristocratic eyes devoid of a single ounce of maternal instinct.Isabella didn't think. The sheer, suffocating magnitude of the betrayal completely bypassed her exhaustion and terror, igniting a blinding, primal rage in her chest.With a guttural, heartbroken scream, Isabella lunged forward, her hand raised to strike the smug, sociopathic smile off her mother’s flawless face.She didn't even make it a single step.Julian’s arm wrapped around her waist like a band of forged steel, violently jerking her backward until her spine slammed flush against his hard, heavily muscled chest. He easily absorbed her frantic thrashing, his massive hand clamping firmly over both of her wrists to pin

The freezing Amalfi wind howled through the open blast doors, but Isabella couldn't feel the cold. All she could feel was the paralyzing, absolute terror radiating from the tiny red laser dot resting perfectly over her womb.Viktor, the man who had stood faithfully at Julian’s shoulder for a decade, the man who had shielded them just hours ago, held the suppressed pistol with terrifying, mechanical steadiness."Viktor," Julian said, his voice dropping into a deadly, vibrating octave that cut clearly through the roar of the ocean and the helicopter blades above. He didn't raise his hands. Slowly, deliberately, Julian stepped sideways, shifting his massive, heavily muscled frame to entirely eclipse Isabella, taking the red laser dot directly onto his own chest. "What is this?""I am saving your empire, Mr. Sterling," Viktor replied, his thick accent devoid of any emotion. He kept the gun leveled squarely at Julian’s heart. "Your obsession with this woman has compromised everything we bu

The freezing, salt-laced wind off the shipping port whipped through the open bay doors, but the blood in Isabella’s veins ran entirely cold.Richard Vance.He stood immaculate in his tailored silver-gray suit, looking like a flawless corporate prince. But the dozen heavily armed mercenaries flanking him, their assault rifles leveled at the helicopter, shattered any illusion of a boardroom negotiation. This was a cartel execution."Get out," Isabella hissed, her voice vibrating with a primal, feral warning. She stepped over Julian’s massive, bleeding form, raising the heavy stainless steel trauma shears like a dagger. "If you take one more step onto this aircraft, Richard, I will drive these through your throat."Richard didn't flinch. A slow, chilling smile spread across his handsome, aristocratic face—a smile utterly devoid of the charming, polished facade he had worn during their brief, forced engagement."Isabella, darling," Richard murmured, his tone dripping with patronizing amus

The heavy, metallic clink of magnetic breaching charges clamping onto the exterior of the bay doors echoed through the silent helicopter cabin like the ticking of a death watch."Ten seconds! Get clear!" a muffled voice roared from the tarmac outside.Isabella didn’t have time to panic. She didn't have time to cry. She looked at the locked, ballistic-grade cockpit door, the digital warning flashing its mocking red text across the screen: AWAITING MANUAL THRUST.She spun around, her bare, bleeding feet slipping slightly on the blood-slicked floorboards. The two Syndicate mercenaries Julian had incapacitated were unconscious, their heavy tactical gear scattered across the cabin. She lunged toward the closest guard, her trembling fingers wrapping around the thick, heavy steel barrel of his discarded assault rifle.She didn't know how to release the safety. She didn't know how to shoot. But she knew physics.Isabella hoisted the heavy weapon, her muscles burning with adrenaline, and rushe

The cold, heavy steel of the pistol barrel pressed so ruthlessly against the center of Isabella’s forehead that it ground against the bone.She didn't close her eyes. She didn't scream. The sheer, overwhelming terror that had dominated her for weeks suddenly evaporated, replaced by a freezing, unnatural calm. Isabella stared directly down the barrel of the gun and into the sociopathic, icy blue eyes of Nikolai Sterling."Pull the trigger," Isabella whispered, her voice deadened and completely hollow in the damp concrete cell.Nikolai’s jaw tightened, his finger hovering dangerously over the trigger. He had fully expected her to beg, to weep, to fall to her knees just as her father would have."Kill me," Isabella continued, stepping forward. The movement forced Nikolai to either shoot or step back; his eyes widened fractionally as he held his ground, the gun now digging violently into her skin. "Blow my brains across this wall, Nikolai. And when Richard Vance and the European Syndicate