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Chapter 61 – A Fragile Truth
Last Updated:
2025-02-28 01:02:21
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The days after their conversation were different. The air between Alexander and Isabella felt lighter, but there was still an unspoken weight that lingered. It wasn’t that the tension had completely disappeared—it was more like a shifting, a change in how they understood each other. The truth was out, raw and vulnerable, and they had to rebuild from that place of honesty. But where did they go from here? Isabella didn’t know. The uncertainty lingered, but at least they had taken a step toward clarity. Alexander had opened up to her, but there was still so much left unsaid. She could see the confusion and guilt in his eyes, but there was also a flicker of hope. Maybe they could move forward, maybe they could be better together. But they needed time. Time to heal, to understand one another’s wounds. As she stood by the window of her apartment, looking out at the city skyline, Isabella felt a sense of resolve settling inside her. She had been so caught up in her own insecurities, in her
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The silence that hung between them was deafening. Isabella sat in stunned silence, the weight of Alexander's words pressing down on her like a heavy burden. She stared at the documents in her hands, her mind still reeling from the revelation. Inheritance. Power. Responsibility. These were things she had never imagined would be part of Alexander’s world. Yet, here they were, exposed and raw before her, a tangled mess of secrets and truths that she had never been prepared to face. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, spinning faster than she could control. She wanted to say something, ask him more questions, demand explanations, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, all she could do was stare at the envelope in her hands, as if the answers she sought were hidden in the fine print. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she lifted her gaze to meet Alexander’s. His eyes were filled with regret, but there was something else there too. Something she hadn’t seen in him before—vulnerability.
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The early morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden shadows across the room. Isabella sat curled on the chaise by the window, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her gaze lost in the garden below. The once-vibrant roses seemed to wither in the dawn chill—much like her heart, caught between hope and hurt. Behind her, the air shifted. She didn’t need to turn to know Alexander was awake. She could feel his presence—heavy, tense, watching her like he always did when he wasn’t sure if she was going to disappear on him. “I thought you were asleep,” she murmured, not turning around. “I was,” his voice came quietly. Rough. “Until I realized you weren’t beside me.” “I couldn’t sleep.” A long silence stretched between them. She finally turned to look at him. He stood by the edge of the bed, shirtless, his sculpted chest rising and falling with steady breaths. But it was the look in his eyes that caught her—raw, pleading, remorseful. He didn’t ask if she was okay
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The world felt strangely silent.Ryan stood at the edge of the ruined shipping port, the scent of smoke and gunpowder lingering in the air. The waves crashed against the docks, a rhythmic contrast to the chaos that had unfolded just hours ago.Volkov was dead. His empire shattered.And yet, the weight on Ryan’s shoulders refused to lift.Lena stepped beside him, arms crossed. She had patched up the wound on his shoulder, but he could tell she was still watching him with concern.“You’re quiet,” she said.Ryan exhaled, his grip tightening on the railing. “Just thinking.”Dante walked up behind them, rubbing his neck. “We should be celebrating. We pulled off the impossible.”Lena shot him a tired look. “We barely made it out alive.”Dante smirked. “That’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?”Ryan shook his head. “There’s still one loose end.”Lena’s expression darkened. “The leak.”Someone had sold them out before the attack on Volkov’s hideout. Someone had warned him they were coming.And Rya
