Todos os capítulos de Máfia's Hated Bride: Capítulo 161 - Capítulo 170

ANGELINE HARRINGTON Eduardo didn't respond. He just pulled his wife closer to him, as if he feared someone would snatch her from him at any moment. — Well — Elizaveta resumed, recovering her composure. — Back to the subject: Alexei is dead. But there are still a few remnants left. Besides, Alexei wasn't — and never will be — the only one to threaten us. And, frankly, I'm tired of fighting this fight alone. I learned from Nikolai that having loyal allies is much better than having no one. I want to unite south and north in a super alliance. I felt a chill run down my spine. — You think other people might want to start a war against you again? — I think we should always be prepared — Elizaveta replied, her light eyes fixed on mine. — After all, we are what we are. And there will always be those who want to take our power. Nikolai looked at Elizaveta, then at Eduardo. His expression was impenetrable, but I knew him well enough to see the calculation behind that mask. — Does your h

ANGELINE HARRINGTONElizaveta's mansion was different from Nikolai's. Darker, quieter, with gardens that seemed to hide ancient secrets. I went alone — Dimitri insisted on accompanying me, but I asked him to wait in the living room. I needed that conversation in private.Elizaveta led me into a room that seemed to be a playroom. There were toys scattered on the floor, colorful books on the shelves, small child's footprints on the fluffy rug. And in the center of the room, sitting on the floor, a girl with light eyes and dark hair, about eight years old, was playing with a doll next to her nanny.That was when I noticed Elizaveta's different gaze again. The look she directed at that girl wasn't that of a feared Pakhan, nor that of a cold strategist. It was the look of a mother. Pure. Vulnerable. Human.— This is Anastácia — Elizaveta said, with a smile that lit up her face sincerely for the first time. — My daughter. Nastya to those close to her.— Nice to meet you, Nastya — I greeted,

ANGELINE HARRINGTONThe two days that passed were a true torment.Living there with him stirred up everything we had lived through and left me totally vulnerable to the feelings I had never forgotten. Not during the mornings, because at those times we didn't see each other. From dawn until night, I spent the day working at my father's company, and he at his businesses.But the nights… all the longing I had already felt for months for Nikolai's body, for the desire, for his want of me, was now stronger. My body burned for him. And I felt that he felt the same thing for me.And I felt it on the very first night I arrived there, after kissing my children goodnight, he also came in and did the same. Playing with Yelena's delicate hair and with Ângelo's little face while both slept. Then we left the babies' room together in silence.But as soon as we left, he said:— You have no idea how many nights I wished for this ardently — he spoke with an intense look.— To be able to say goodnight a

ANGELINE HARRINGTONThat night, after Ângelo and Yelena finally fell asleep, Nikolai let me know he wouldn't be back for dinner. "Business," he said only, with that tone I knew so well. I apologized to Mila and stayed alone with my thoughts. I always knew what those "business" meant. Nikolai was the Pakhan. That would never change. And, as much as it hurt, I had to accept that, to keep our family alive and safe, he would have to continue being the monster the world feared.Hours later, through the large living room window, I saw the headlights cutting through the darkness. Dimitri got out of the car first, followed by Nikolai. Even from afar, I could see the dark stains on their shirts. Blood. My chest tightened, but I took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time. Nor would it be the last.I went up to the bedroom before he entered the house. I didn't want to face him yet. A few minutes later, I went down to the garden. It was summer, and the night brought a pleasant chill. The scent

NIKOLAI VOLKOVTwo years had passed.The twins were almost three years old — an age full of energy, discoveries, sudden tantrums, and hugs that could melt any man. Ângelo was quieter, more observant, with the same dark blue eyes and that silent intensity of someone who analyzes the world before acting — the same intensity Angeline defined. Yelena, on the other hand, was pure chatter and fire: she ran through the house giving orders, laughed loudly, and already showed an independence that filled me with both pride and worry at the same time. She was so much like her mother.I had changed. I had not become a saint — the beast still lived inside me, always alert, ready to destroy anyone who threatened what was mine. But the blind fury, the pathological jealousy that had almost destroyed everything… that was behind us. We had learned to trust. To talk before anger decided for us. To respect each other’s limits.Angeline had become an unstoppable force. Her project had grown beyond every e