All Chapters of His Forbidden Obsession : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

As soon as Sophia opened the door, she stepped into the entryway, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The cool air inside wrapped around her, carrying the faint scent of Dante’s cologne, a scent she had grown so familiar with—a deep, rich fragrance that always made her feel safe and at home.The lighting in the room was soft and inviting, casting a golden glow over the luxurious space. Her eyes traveled over the sleek black leather couches arranged neatly in the entryway. The cushions looked untouched, perfectly placed, as if no one had sat there. A grand chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its crystals shimmering under the warm light, adding an air of elegance to the already lavish setting.The walls were painted in a deep shade of gray, complementing the dark furniture and giving the space a sophisticated, masculine feel. A large painting, bold and abstract, hung on one side, while a tall vase with fresh white roses sat on a glass table near the entrance,

The morning light filtered through the large windows, casting a soft golden glow across the room. Sophia stirred beneath the silky sheets, letting out a small, sleepy sigh as she slowly woke up. Her body stretched instinctively, her arms reaching above her head as she let out a gentle yawn. The warmth of the bed made her want to curl back up, but the absence of another body beside her made her pause.She turned to face Dante, expecting to find him lying beside her, his strong arms wrapped around her like always. But instead, all she met was an empty space. The sheets on his side were slightly rumpled, the warmth of his body long gone.Frowning, Sophia sat up, running a hand through her hair. She glanced around the room, hoping to hear the sound of the shower running or maybe footsteps from the balcony. But there was nothing.With a small sigh, she slipped out of bed, the cool air brushing against her bare skin. She walked to the closet and grabbed one of Dante’s shirts, pulling it ov

Sophia leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to relax. It had been an exhausting day—she had attended to multiple patients, sat through long meetings, and dealt with the endless responsibilities that came with her job. Yet, despite the heavy workload, her mind wasn’t focused on any of it. Instead, it was clouded with thoughts of Dante.She sighed and opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling.What’s happening to him?The question echoed in her mind.Dante hadn’t called her all day. Not even a text. That was so unlike him. He always found a moment, no matter how busy he was, to check on her, to hear her voice, even if it was just a simple “How’s your day, princess?” But today, there had been nothing. Silence. And it was driving her insane.Her fingers tapped anxiously against her desk as she tried to convince herself that he was just very busy. Maybe he had an urgent meeting. Maybe something at work needed his full attention. But then, she remembered how he had

Dante’s body tensed as he stood there, his back turned to Sophia. The words he had just heard echoed in his mind, crushing him, suffocating him.“Miguel De Luca is your father?”His voice was low, rough, almost dangerous.Sophia hesitated.Something about the way he asked made her uneasy. It wasn’t curiosity. It wasn’t surprise. It was something else.Something darker.She swallowed hard before finally nodding.“Yes… he’s my father.”Dante’s fists clenched.The room suddenly felt too small, too suffocating, too cruel.He couldn’t breathe.He couldn’t think.Sophia was the daughter of the man he hated most in this world. The daughter of the man who took the most precious thing from him. The daughter of the man who made him an orphan.The rage that coursed through him was unbearable. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, his vision darkened at the edges.It was cruel.It was twisted.Fate had played the most vicious trick on him.He was in love with the one person he was suppo

It had been three days.Three days of silence.Three days of emptiness.Three days of Dante and Sophia not speaking, not seeing each other, not knowing what the other was feeling.And for three days, Dante had been drowning in his own torment.He sat in his dimly lit study, his large hand rhythmically tapping against the wooden table, his eyes fixed on nothing.The air around him was heavy, the room cold, yet he felt nothing.He had spent hours here, doing nothing but sitting, staring, and thinking. Thinking about her.Sophia.The name alone sent a sharp, painful ache through his chest.He hadn’t called her.He hadn’t texted her.He hadn’t even tried to reach her.And she hadn’t reached out either.Not because he didn’t want to—but because he didn’t know how.Dante had never felt this kind of pain before. He had never felt this lost.Not when his father died.Not when he held a dying man in his hands and watched the life drain from his eyes.But Sophia?She had broken something inside