All Chapters of Owned By My Father's Rival: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Chapter 42: The Weight of BonesThe guesthouse room smelled of old wood and older secrets.I held my mother in my arms. Her body was thin. Her bones pressed against me like twigs beneath paper. She had stopped being the woman I remembered somewhere along the years of hiding. In her place was a stranger wrapped in familiar skin.Isabella pulled back first.Her eyes were red. Her cheeks were wet. But she was smiling. That same smile from the photograph. The one that had once made me believe everything would be okay."You've grown so much," she said."People tend to do that in eight years.""I meant—""I know what you meant." I released her. Stood up. Walked to the window. "You meant you missed me. You meant you wished things were different. You meant you're sorry.""Yes.""But sorry doesn't bring anyone back."Isabella was quiet."The girls," I continued. "The ones you named. They're still dead. Their families still don't know what happened to them. Their bodies are still buried in unma

Chapter 44: The House of TeethThe countryside house sat at the end of a private road.Stone walls. Iron gates. A driveway lined with poplar trees that had grown tall and thin, like sentinels guarding a tomb. The building itself was old—centuries old, maybe—with windows that stared out at the world like dead eyes.Isabella killed the engine a quarter mile from the gates."This is it," she said. "The place where I grew up. The place where Margaret became what she is.""Became?""She wasn't always a monster." Isabella stared at the house through the windshield. "Once, she was just a woman. A frightened woman. A woman who made terrible choices and then spent the rest of her life making worse ones to cover up the first.""That doesn't excuse her.""No." Isabella opened her door. "But it explains her. The same way I explained myself to you. Excuses are for people who want forgiveness. Explanations are for people who want understanding.""What do you want?"She looked at me."I want you to

Chapter 46: The Father's ConfessionThe living room was thick with silence.Sergei sat in his chair like a king on a crumbling throne. His eyes moved between us—me, Lucien, Isabella—measuring, weighing, calculating. Even dying, even trembling, he was still playing the game.I stayed standing."My mother," I said. "You ruined her.""I gave her a choice.""You gave her poison.""I gave her survival." His voice was flat. "There's a difference.""Not to her.""No." He looked at Isabella. "Not to her."Isabella stepped forward. Her hands were clenched at her sides. Her face was pale, but her voice was steady."You told me you loved me.""I did.""You told me you would protect me.""I tried.""You sold me to Margaret." Her voice cracked. "You traded me like cargo. Like one of the girls.""You were never cargo." Sergei's jaw tightened. "You were the only person I ever loved. The only person I ever wanted to protect.""Then why?""Because I was weak." The words seemed to cost him. "Because I

Chapter 48: The Road to MedellínWe left San Ignacio before dawn.The sky was the color of bruises. The road was empty. Lucien drove with both hands on the wheel, his eyes scanning the darkness ahead, his jaw set in a line that meant he was thinking about things he didn't want to say.Isabella slept in the back seat.I watched her breathe.Her face was peaceful in sleep. The lines around her eyes softened. The tension in her shoulders released. She looked younger. Almost innocent. The way she must have looked before Margaret found her. Before Sergei corrupted her. Before the empire claimed her soul."She's not innocent," Lucien said, as if reading my mind."I know.""But you're looking at her like she is.""I'm looking at her like she's my mother.""There's a difference?""Not to me."---The sun rose over the mountains.Gold and red and orange, spilling across the sky like paint, setting the clouds on fire. Lucien pulled over at a lookout point. Killed the engine.Isabella stirred."

Chapter 50: The Woman in the CloudsThe road ended at a gate.Iron. Tall. Wrought into shapes that looked like vines and thorns and something else. Something that might have been faces if you stared long enough. The mountains rose on either side, their peaks lost in mist, their slopes carpeted with trees that had stood for centuries.Lucien killed the engine.We sat in the silence. The gray sedan—Margaret's car, now our car—hummed as it cooled. Somewhere, a bird called out. Somewhere else, water dripped from leaves heavy with the morning's rain."She's in there," I said."She's been in there for twenty years," Lucien replied. "Hiding. Waiting. Watching.""Watching us?""Watching everything."He opened his door. The cold air rushed in, thin and sharp, smelling of pine and earth and the kind of loneliness that only mountains could hold.I followed him out.The gate had no handle. No lock. Just a keypad on the right side, glowing red in the gray light.Lucien stared at it."Birthdate," h