All Chapters of Máfia's Hated Bride: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

NIKOLAI VOLKOV My heart raced. The word echoed in the room like a gunshot. "Divorce?" I repeated, incredulous. "That's what you want, isn't it?" She opened her eyes and stared at me. There was such deep pain in those green eyes that I felt like falling to my knees. "You've already considered me a traitor. You imprisoned me. You humiliated me. You left me to wither away alone while I believed the lies of an envious secretary." "Angeline, I…" "Do you hate me, Nikolai? Or at least did you hate me enough to treat me worse than an animal?" "No, that was never true!" My voice came out broken. "I never hated you. I…" "Did you love me?" she laughed, a humorless sound. "Because that was the worst way to show love, if you even loved me. Trapping a pregnant woman in a room while she begged to be heard." Every bitter word from Angeline was a poisoned knife in my heart. And I deserved every single one. "Dimitri told me everything," she continued, her voice now lower, heavy with infinite s

Author's NoteAs an author, I have a habit that sometimes betrays me: I tend to choose two names for the same character. This happened with the dog—sometimes called Candy, sometimes Sweet—and also with Angeline's father, who appears as both Alexander Thorne and Nathan Rothschild. If you find any of these slips, please forgive the mistake. Just let me know and I will fix it immediately.Thank you for your understanding and patience.— Joss Austen--- NIKOLAI VOLKOV Dimitri touched my shoulder. "Let it go, Nikolai. She needs this." Arkady agreed. "He's right. If you keep acting with all this possessiveness, do you really think she will ever forgive you? Angeline is no longer a hostage, son. Now she has an empire a thousand times bigger than yours—and almost as clean as creek water." "What do you mean by that?" I asked, frowning. "Her father was a mobster, yes," Arkady explained. "But years ago he left the underworld. He built a legitimate empire, a billionaire one. Technology com

NIKOLAI VOLKOV TWO MONTHS LATER The apartment was the same. The twins had grown, their little faces now more defined, their personalities already revealing themselves. Angelo was calm, observant. Yelena was talkative, clever, always with a smile on her lips. I was almost fully recovered. My strength had returned, my soul still ached, but my body was whole. The doctor said I could return to the mansion whenever I wanted. But I didn't want to. The apartment still belonged to Nikolai—everything in my life still belonged to him, somehow. But he had kept what he promised. He had kept his distance. He came every day, of course. Two, three times a day. He never failed to visit the children. But when I was in the bedroom, he didn't enter. He respected my space. My rules. "He is going crazy, ma'am," Dimitri told me one morning. "He takes it out on enemies, on his men, on everything. But he doesn't touch you. He doesn't force anything." "I know," I replied, without looking at him. "It's

ANGELINE HARRINGTON Nathan Rothschild's office was on the top floor of a glass and steel skyscraper, overlooking the entire city. The afternoon light came in golden tones, illuminating the shelves of antique books and the paintings that told the story of a clean empire, rebuilt from the underworld. My father was sitting in his wheelchair beside the window, his green eyes—so like mine—fixed on the horizon. The disease had advanced greatly, but he still had incredible strength. The little time we spent together was already enough for me to know: I loved him. And it already hurt in advance to know that I would not have much more time by his side. "Come, my daughter," he said, his voice weak but firm. "Sit down. Today I am going to teach you about alliances." I approached, sitting in the chair beside him. I picked up his papers, his reports, his charts. He began to explain—about business deals, about strategic alliances, about how to build real power. Not power. Real power, with deep

ANGELINE HARRINGTONNikolai tried to approach, but I stepped back.— Leave me alone — I whispered, my voice faltering. — Go away, Nikolai. Get out of my life for good. I don't understand, why were you here? What did you come here to do? Humiliate me? Put on your little show?— Angeline, I…I didn't let him speak. I continued, anger and hurt overflowing.— I expected anything from you, Nikolai Volkov, except a display of jealousy as idiotic as that one.I turned my back on him and started walking toward the car.— Angeline, please, listen to me — he pleaded, his voice heavy with desperation.— Not now, Nikolai. I want to go home. I need to see my children.— I'll take you.— I don't want you to take me! I want to go in my car, with my driver, alone!I answered angrily, gripping the car door handle, but before I could open the door, Nikolai reached me.— No — he said, and his voice was firm, but not aggressive. — You're not going alone. Not after I saw that man touching you.— Stop bein