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หน้าหลัก / Married to the Wrong Donovan Brother / บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 9

บททั้งหมดของ Married to the Wrong Donovan Brother: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 9

9

Chapter 1

The fire ate our home. And my husband walked right through it. To her.His back turned to me. It crushed the last five years of hope.I woke up in a hospital. All white. Blinding.Every breath was shattered glass in my lungs.My right arm—my cello arm—was wrapped in thick bandages.The door opened. Maria, the head maid from my childhood home, walked in.“Find out who Jenna really is,” I said to the ceiling. My voice was a rasp.As the Donna, it was my duty to vet everyone who got close to the Don. Even his whores.And Jenna had been with him for four months straight.I had to make sure she wasn’t a rat from a rival family.Maria just stood there. Frozen.Then, her face crumbled. She started shaking, sobbing by my bed.“I’m sorry, Donna.” She trembled. “Jenna… she’s my daughter.”The air left the room.I stared at the woman who’d worked for my family for twenty years.“Your daughter?” My lips cracked into a cold smile. “Congratulations, Maria. You’ll be a guest of honor soon. The new Do
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Chapter 2

I woke up. Still alone in the hospital room.I pulled out my own IV. Discharged myself.When I pushed open the main doors to the Donovan estate, I thought I was in the wrong house.The medieval oil painting I’d bought at auction in Florence—gone. Replaced by tacky, bright pop art.My favorite antique carved bench was gone, too. In its place, a cheap-looking, hot-pink velvet sofa.“Get rid of that vase, too. It’s depressing. Cillian said everything in the house should be how I like it.”Jenna was standing in the middle of the hall, wearing my silk robe, ordering the staff around.And my husband, the untouchable Don, was lounging on the new sofa.His long legs were crossed. His thumb was tracing patterns on Jenna’s slender fingers.Maria sat across from them, holding a coffee cup, smiling from ear to ear.Like a perfect little family.I let out a cold laugh and walked straight past them.My bandaged arm snagged on a sculpture in the entryway.The laughter stopped.Maria jumped up. A life
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Chapter 3

“Make it clear, Aveline.”Cillian’s grip on my wrist was tight.His hot breath was on my ear. An invasion.That dangerous closeness used to make my heart race.Now, it just made me sick.I laughed. A bitter sound.“Make what clear?” I looked at him. “What, you want me to clarify the part about Jenna being pregnant?”Cillian went rigid.His grip on my wrist vanished.I didn’t look at his stunned face. I rubbed the red marks he’d left and walked downstairs.In the main hall, movers were clumsily pushing an antique Steinway piano.It was the last thing my mother left me before she fell from that cliff.“Careful! Don’t scratch the floor,” Jenna ordered from the sofa. “Hurry up and move it to the basement. This area needs to be padded. For a children’s play area.”I stopped on the stairs, my eyes cold.Jenna met my gaze. No shame. She just lifted her chin. “What are you looking at? Cillian approved it. The baby will need space to play.”I scanned the room. This house I didn't even recognize
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Chapter 4

“Sue for breach of contract? That’s impossible.”The lawyer’s voice was shaking on the phone. “Miss Aveline, this is Cillian Donovan. He writes the rules in this city. You can’t win this fight.”He hung up.I gripped my phone, my knuckles white.He’d even crushed that last little bit of hope with his power.A storm broke over Chicago.I didn’t have an umbrella.I walked up the hill to the cemetery. I collapsed in front of my parents’ graves.The rain soaked through my clothes. The water stung the wound on my arm.My hand trembled as I touched my mother’s faded picture on the headstone.“Mom… I’m so tired.” I pressed my face against the cold stone, tears mixing with the rain and mud. “I have nothing left.”I heard footsteps behind me. Scrambling.I turned.Cillian stood there, under a black umbrella.Jenna was beside him. Behind them, a timid Maria and a few of Cillian’s huge bodyguards.Before I could react, Jenna broke free from Cillian and walked straight to my father’s grave.She bo
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Chapter 5

The papers fluttered in the wind and rain, slapping against Cillian’s face.He instinctively reached up and caught the wet pages.Cillian’s breath stopped.“Aveline, don’t do this now,” he said. His voice was raw.“Do what?”I looked at the face I had loved for five years. I felt nothing.It was all dead. Gone with my unborn child. Gone with every last fantasy about this marriage.“Sign it, Cillian,” I said, my voice flat. “Take whatever you want. Just leave me alone. You make my skin crawl.”Beside him, Jenna’s eyes flashed with pure joy.She looked like she wanted to shove a pen in his hand and get me out of her way for good.But when she turned to Cillian, she saw his fist clench, his knuckles white. The jealousy was back, and she bit her lip, hard.Cillian didn’t sign.He ripped the papers in half.His eyes were a storm of emotions. He was running from something.He couldn't look at me.“You’re not thinking straight,” he said, his voice hard, like he was hiding something. He threw
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Chapter 6

Cillian’s POV“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”The cold, mechanical voice echoed in my ear. A dull knife to my sanity.My body went rigid. I swayed, nearly collapsing.“Get out.” I snarled at the Capo in my office. He was reporting on turf accounts. The blood drained from my face. I’d lost her.The realization hit. It swallowed every last bit of my pride.I bolted out of the manor like a madman. Jumped into my black, armored Aston Martin. And floored it.The V12 engine roared like a beast in the night. One hand on the wheel. The other frantically redialing her number.Still disconnected.A screech of tires tore through the graveyard’s silence.I stumbled up the hill. The rain-soaked mud ruined my custom leather shoes. I didn't feel a thing.Nothing.The new headstone stood alone. Just howling wind and mud.Aveline wasn't there.I don’t know how I drove back to the manor.I was in a daze. I pushed open the door to her music room.No cello. The air held only a faint
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Chapter 7

Aveline’s POV“The divorce papers were blocked again?”I gripped the phone. My knuckles were white.On the other end, the family lawyer’s voice was tired. Apologetic.“Miss Aveline, the Donovan family pulled strings at the courthouse. The clause for automatic divorce after two years of separation… they’ve stalled it again with a mountain of bogus property disputes. The Donovans own the Chicago courts. This is the third time.”I watched the snow fall outside the Vienna Musikverein and laughed.Five years. Cillian Donovan would mobilize his entire mafia empire just to keep me from leaving.The seasons changed. Five years flew by.I found a new life in Vienna.That fire burned down my past. It also burned away my blind obsession with Cillian.In five years, I became a world-renowned cellist.I released my first solo album. I saw the Northern Lights in Iceland. I saw the pure white snow of the Alps.Away from that manor of lies and betrayal, I finally found a world bigger than I had ever d
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Chapter 8

Aveline’s POVThe moment I fell into his arms, the steel-like grip almost cracked my ribs.“Aveline…”The whisper was raw. Broken.It was Cillian.My lawyer told me Cillian had been in agony for five years.Sleepless nights. Using his power to block the divorce. Coming to this graveyard every day like a ghost, just waiting. Surviving on alcohol and a sick obsession.When he realized I wasn't a hallucination, he lost all control.His arms tightened like a vise. His hot lips pressed against the side of my neck.He breathed me in. Like a drowning man breaking the surface.That intense mix of testosterone, smoke, and gunpowder grated on my nerves.Once, I would have died for this embrace.Now, all I felt was disgust.I shoved him away. Hard.Caught off guard, Cillian stumbled back a few steps. His tall frame barely stayed upright.He looked older. More mature than five years ago. But his handsome features were hollowed out by a deep, dark depression.His eyes, once arrogant and feared by a
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Chapter 9

Aveline’s POV“Nervous, my star cellist?”A deep, gentle voice whispered by my ear.One year later. Vienna. The Golden Hall.I stood before the large, floor-to-ceiling mirror. Looking at the new me.A flawless, silk couture wedding dress hugged my curves.My husband, the handsome, gentle architect, wrapped his arms around me from behind.He leaned down. His warm lips softly kissed my right arm.Right on the ugly burn scar from the fire at the manor.It used to be my deepest nightmare.But his devoted kisses changed that. The fire. The betrayal. The mafia bullets. He healed it all.“Not nervous.” I turned in his arms and hugged him back with a smile. “I just feel… like I’m alive again.”We weren't in a traditional church. We were in the Vienna Musikverein. The most sacred hall for music.He knew what music meant to me. He booked the entire place, just for our wedding.I wasn’t holding a traditional bouquet. I was holding a new roll of sheet music.A piece I wrote just for him.It was ca
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