Lahat ng Kabanata ng His Bride Of Revenge: Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

**Stefano’s POV**“I saw Elena!”That was the first thing I heard as I sat down in Marco’s living room.The words hit me so hard I forgot how to breathe.Marco wasn’t around. Carmela sat stiffly on the arm of a leather chair, her fingers laced so tightly that her knuckles looked like white stones. She wouldn't look at me. Her eyes were fixed on the patterned tiles, her face etched with a look of heavy, silent dread.I moved so fast the chair legs screeched violently against the floor.“What?” My voice was a raw, jagged mess. “Where? Where did you see her, Carmela?”She finally lifted her head. I expected to see a spark of excitement or a glimmer of hope, but there was nothing. Her eyes were cold, filled with worry and a deep, cutting disappointment that made me flinch.“She was at the supermarket near the Porta Romana area,” Carmela said, her voice flat. “The one right next to the Grand Visconti Palace Hotel. She was buying toiletries, Stefano.”My heart began to thud against my ribs

**Elena’s POV**“Get out!”The words didn't just leave my mouth; they tore out of my throat.Stefano didn't move. He stood there, his head still tilted to the side from the force of my slap. I could see my handprint, a fierce, angry red, against his pale skin. Slowly, he lifted his head, and his eyes met mine. They were dark, wet, and filled with a look of pure shock, as if I had just woken him up from a dream by drenching him in ice water.I hated how my chest felt as if it were being crushed. I hated how my lips were still tingling and swollen from his kiss. But most of all, I hated that even now, after everything, my body still wanted to lean into him.Instead of leaving, he took a step toward me.“Elena,” he whispered. He said my name like it was a prayer, like it was the only holy thing he had left. “Please. Just a minute.”“Don’t!” I snapped, pointing a trembling finger at him. “Don’t you dare say my name like that, not after what you did.”He stopped, lifting his hands slowly

**Stefano’s POV**I slammed the office door shut behind me and dropped into my chair, feeling as if my bones had given up.The room was filled with the familiar scents of the office: expensive leather, aged wood, and the bitter scent of espresso. Usually, this office was my sanctuary, the place where I felt in control. But tonight, my chest wouldn't stop tightening. Every breath felt like a struggle.My mother.The thought had taken root in my mind and was growing like a weed, suffocating everything else. I stared down at the dark, polished glass of my desk. My reflection looked back at me, but I barely recognized the man in it. He looked haunted. He looked lost.Was she still alive? Was she somewhere in Milan right now, perhaps walking down a street I had just driven past? Or had she fled Italy the moment she was forced out? Maybe she was in another country, living under a different name and building a whole new life.Maybe she had another family. Another son who didn't have blood o

**Lucia’s POV**The four men at the table were relentless. They didn’t even bother with the pretense of conversation. One of them, a man with a thick gold chain nestled in his chest hair and skin that looked permanently oily, let his eyes roam over me with sickening slowness. His gaze traveled from my trembling lips down to my chest, lingering there until I felt a wave of cold nausea roll through my stomach.I wanted to scream, lash out, and run until my legs gave way, but Raffaele’s hand was a heavy iron anchor on my thigh. His fingers dug into my flesh, his rings pressing painfully into my skin as a silent warning: Don’t you dare move.“She’s quiet,” the man with the gold chain noted, his voice a gravelly, wet rumble that made my skin crawl. “Does she always just sit there like a doll, Raffaele, or does she have a voice?”Raffaele let out a low, dark chuckle that didn't reach his eyes. He leaned back, looking completely at home, as if we were enjoying a casual night out instead of

**Stefano’s POV**“I have found her.”Those four words hit me with the force of a physical blow; I forgot how to breathe.I snapped my head up from the file spread across my desk, the heavy paper sliding from my numb fingers and fluttering to the floor. Luca stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hallway.“You have found Cecilia?” I asked. “My mother?”Luca nodded once. “Yes, boss.”I was on my feet before I even realized I had moved. The heavy leather chair scraped violently against the hardwood floor behind me, the sound echoing like a scream in the quiet office.“Where is she?” I demanded, feeling a strange, tight sensation in my throat, like a wire was being pulled taut. “Where is she, Luca? Tell me.”“She is still in Milan,” Luca said calmly. “She never left the city.”I stared at him.She never left.The words sank into my consciousness slowly, like poison dripping into a well. My chest tightened until it was painful to draw a breath. I felt a phan