All Chapters of Máfia's Hated Bride: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

CHAPTER 61 ANGELINE HARRINGTON Nikolai had woken up, his eyes were open. Some color had returned to his face, but the weakness was still evident. However, the look was the same: analytical, calculating, fully present. — Nikolai… you're awake — I whispered, emotion taking over me, a mixture of overwhelming relief and a sudden fear of what he might have heard. — Yes, beautiful — he said, his voice a rough drag, but his gray eyes finding mine with an intensity that left me breathless. — And now I'm fine. Thanks to you, Angel. — He then shifted his gaze to the doctor and to Dimitri. — And to you, my friends. It was a dry acknowledgment, but sincere. Dimitri gave a slight nod. The doctor murmured: — I just did my job, sir. — And you did it well — Nikolai cut in, his mind already working at full speed, ignoring his own weakness. — Now, go. Take care of the Harringtons. For now we'll keep up the theater for the time being. — Yes, sir — Dimitri nodded and left quickly, his mission rene

ANGELINE HARRINGTON The silence in the safe room was oppressive after they left to prepare the escape. I stayed alone for hours, my body motionless against the cold concrete wall, but my mind was a whirlwind. I replayed every instant: his weight, feverish, against me; the confession stolen by pain; my fingers trembling while I staunched his blood. And then, the distant nod, the blade-like voice, the word "asset." What was forming inside me was a dangerous and unknown territory. The pure terror he inspired before was merging with something more complex, a cutting fascination, a dangerous understanding. Seeing his vulnerability had created a fissure, and through it escaped a new fear: the fear that the forced proximity, that intimacy born of danger, was taking root where there should only be ashes. Hours later, he returned to the room, followed by Dimitri. One look from me, and he made a brief gesture with his head, a silent order for me to stay. It was to listen. — It's been confirm

ANGELINE HARRINGTON At dawn, I woke up sore in places I didn’t even know existed. Every muscle protested, every mark on my skin was a reminder of the night. But unlike every other morning, there was a deep relaxation in my being. And beside me, Nikolai was still asleep. His face, at rest, lost its ferocity, a rare peace. Watching him like that, vulnerable in sleep, was a dangerous privilege. The setting was the same oppressive bedroom. The mansion was still my golden cage. But something fundamental had changed. I was no longer just a prisoner. The choice I had made in the darkness—to stay by his side, to accept his dark agreement—had transformed me. I was a piece on the board, yes. But a piece that had chosen its side of the board, knowing the rules were written in blood and desire. And in that morning silence, looking at the man-monster who possessed me in every imaginable way, I realized I could no longer distinguish where obligation ended and my own terrible desire to play began.

NIKOLAI VOLKOV I watched the target through the crack of my attention, maintaining a shallow dialogue about imports with a steel magnate. I pretended to be distracted, allowing the space to open up. I wanted to see the rat's movements. But when I saw him approach Angeline, when he saw her smile with that cold courtesy that I myself had taught her to use, a primitive and blind fury exploded inside my chest. It was a visceral reaction, a territorial instinct older than any strategy. I saw the way he devoured her with his eyes, the calculating smile he directed at her, and all I could think about was the cold weight of my gun under my jacket and the satisfying image of his skull shattering. My fingers contracted, yearning for the trigger. In that moment, the truth hit me like a punch to the stomach: my greatest weak point, my most dangerous vulnerability, was standing there, dressed in black silk, smiling at the enemy, a rehearsed smile that I myself had taught her to give. I already

NIKOLAI VOLKOV As soon as Dimitri left the office, I stood staring at the night garden without really seeing anything. My mind was calculating the final moves, the trap that would close around Richard Harrington. The good side, if there was one, was that the bastard had finally opened the perfect flank for my revenge. After all, only one thing justified the total destruction of one's own blood: betrayal. I just needed to gather the definitive proof and deliver the final blow. And that blow, I knew, would have a faint smell of grave flower. Richard's sentence was decreed; now, it was necessary to discover the level of involvement of the other two Harringtons, Elizabeth and Victoria. However, before any move, came the worst part: telling Angeline the details. And, by all the damn demons that haunted my mind, what was happening to me? I was never a sentimental idiot, I never cared about others' feelings. But now, with her… with my beautiful and wounded wife… it was different. And, to