When Love is not enough
Broken and shattered, Andre Torello contemplated suicide. Love failed him, it pierced his heart and left him bleeding. There's nothing left to hold on to, nothing is left when love has failed him. His fiancee left him, she kept him waiting while she walked the aisle with a richer man. He thought love was stronger than wealth and riches, he'd always believed that nothing can break love but it's all a fallacy.
But what if love is waiting at the door? What if all he needed to do was glance in a different direction, but it was too late, Andre concluded. There's no love anywhere again. He'd been shattered by love; he is not ready to give in to its deception anymore. Love is cruel. But more than a lost love, something else was waiting, a throne and a lover and Andre Torello had only one option, accept it or get ruined forever.
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Chapter 5
He raised himself to a sitting position and glared at his mother. A more convenient way to commit suicide rather than being stucked in the snow. He hopes his mom is not assuming and conceiving something filthy in her heart.
"You think I'm talking nonsense right, Andre? You deliberately went out into the snow and threw your jacket away because you know I wouldn't let you step out without it. You deceived me and went out to die in the snow.
Have you no pity for me? Are you so selfish that you only thought of yourself when you took your decision to end your existence because Jasmine jilted you? You wanted to commit suicide right? Fine you are allowed to do it but before then, you'll have to watch me die first" Alice stuttered.
She picked up the knife on the tray and placed it on her neck, "watch me die, Andre then after that, you'll commit suicide just this way. It's simple and fast. It's better than doing it in the snow" Alice seethed.
"Stop it mom, I didn't try to do something silly like that. How can I do that and leave you in so much pain, mom. I love you mom, don't hurt yourself don't, make me add sorrow on my broken heart. Please don't do anything to yourself" Andre pleaded.
Why would he do something silly as committing suicide because Jasmine betrayed him? Only losers do that. He has life ahead of him and a mother to look after. How can committing suicide ever be an option?
"Please Aunt, don't do this. It's late, it's Christmas eve. Don't do anything silly to yourself. Please?" Felix persuaded and walked gently towards Alice. The older woman brought her hand down and started sobbing.
Of course she wouldn't do anything like that. She only wants Andre to know that if he does anything silly, he'd only leave her to suffer. But she heard him say he loves her.
"Promise me Andre, promise me that you will not hurt yourself?" Alice asked, sniffling. She had thought she would lose her son when Felix brought him home, cold and stiffened. She thought his blood was frozen and his jacket was not on him.
She called the doctor and Felix assisted in making fire in his room. They were all scared until they heard him sneeze. What if he passed away without anyone knowing? Thank goodness that he informed Felix through a phone call about his whereabouts.
"I promise, mother," Andre said and enveloped his mother in a hug. Just then, the chapel bell rang. It's time to come over for the Christmas eve celebration.
In a certain presidential Villa, a slender woman was seated by the balcony, covered herself with a thick. She stood looking out at the bustling city on a Christmas eve, it's late but it doesn't seem to be.
The whole city was lit up. Fire crackers going up into the sky, the jingles rending the air and the smiles of love on everyone's face. She'd not really been a fan of the Christmas celebrations or all of that.
She likes her world. Go to the chapel on the 25th for the morning mass, take the sacrament and return home. What's the big deal celebrating a baby born over two thousand millennium ago?
Her thoughts were interrupted by her assistant "ma'am, there's still no trace of that man. No one seems to know him nor recognise who owned the jacket..." he reported.
"Could that mean that he's alive?" She mumbled silently under her breath. She'd been restless when she returned. That young man helped them out without considering his wellbeing. He didn't think about himself when he worked in the snow to help them.
"I don't know what you think we should do ma'am?" Her assistant asked. He'd been in the place with the range rover a few times already, asked neighbors and passersby but no one seemed to know him nor recognise that jacket.
"Go to the various hospitals, search for him there if there's any emergency case of any sort. And leave your contact in case such comes around" She instructed. There's no way that young man will not be needing medical help.
The least that can happen is pneumonia. He would be found in one of the hospitals. She wants to reciprocate his kindness in the best way possible. Good people should be appreciated.
"How about I check the morgue? Who knows what might have happened to him" he suggested with a shrug. That dude might not have survived it. He saw him shivering, his teeth shattering and his body already getting pale back then.
"Are you a fool?" She demanded, in a tone of irritation. Someone helped them and all he could think about is perhaps he is dead? Why should a place like a morgue ever occur to him?
"Yes, people think I am" he replied and continued "And my suggestion brewed from my concerned mind. I might get there now and find him there lying peacefully. I'll give his family the jacket and thank them for the kindness of their son.
That way, your conscience will be at ease. This jacket is the only way we can get him. I'll tell them he helped us and forgot his jacket nearby..." he was saying when she interrupted him.
"I have zero tolerance for fools, Gregory. You don't know me? How dare you display your foolishness before me? You'll get lost from my sight and bear this in mind that the next time you act stupid before me, I'll have your fingers chopped and fed to the dogs.
Now give me the hospital report before night falls or consider yourself fired!" She thundered.
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9.1
After my second chance at life, I took the initiative to sever all possible ties with Rhett.
When he chose to live in the east of the city, I bought a house in the west, putting a whole town between us.
On the rare occasion he brought the child to my house for a meal, I would lock myself in my room and pretend to be sick, refusing to see him.
When I heard he had volunteered to transfer to our area to work at the factory, I immediately submitted my resignation letter that very night.
Seizing the opportunities of the economic boom, I headed south.
In my previous life, I had loved him for forty years, and for forty years, he had belittled me.
He constantly compared me to his unattainable ideal, blaming me for ruining his dream of becoming a factory director.
Even as I lay dying, he shamelessly planned his wedding with his perfect fantasy.
My stepson, whom I had raised with care, was busy helping with the wedding preparations, abandoning me to face death alone.
Having lived through such a failed life once, I swore I would never endure it again.
8.4
I had been locked in a freezing cellar for three days, starving and waiting for my husband, Marco, to save me.
Instead, the iron door opened to reveal his mistress holding a toddler with Marco's exact face.
Marco wasn't sterile like he had claimed for years. He just wanted my De Luca family trust funds.
With my husband watching coldly, his mistress and a corrupt doctor pinned me to the concrete floor.
"We're going to carve you up until you're unrecognizable, then throw you in the lake," she laughed.
The most chilling part wasn't the affair. It was the realization that my mother-in-law, the mafia matriarch I had served faithfully for three years, had personally signed my death warrant to save their crumbling empire.
The scalpel sliced deep into my cheek, permanently destroying my face as warm blood poured down my neck.
I had given them everything. I used my family's money to pay off his secret gambling debts and endured endless insults about being a barren wife, only to realize the entire family viewed me as nothing but a pig to be slaughtered for cash.
In the suffocating darkness, I didn't pray for mercy. I swore a blood oath.
I didn't die in that cellar. Saved by a legendary rival boss, I stood outside the Falcone estate three weeks later.
I pushed open the heavy oak doors to my own memorial service, the jagged red scar on my face silencing the hall.
"I'm afraid your plans to inherit my estate will have to be postponed," I smiled at my terrified husband.
8.3
My husband watched as my skin melted, scalded by boiling soup, yet his hands were busy comforting my attacker. Five years of marriage, built on a foundation of my family's power, crumbled with a single, brutal act of betrayal. He bought me off with a penthouse and a trust fund, but I tore out my IV and threw his charity back in his face.
It was our fifth anniversary, but my husband, Ethan, remained distant, avoiding any talk of Chicago or the mafia protection my family once offered him. He then pushed a black velvet box across the table.
Inside was a Separation and Property Division Agreement, not a diamond. He told me to sign for Ilene's security, offering millions. When I refused, Ilene hurled boiling soup. Ethan shielded her, not me, as the scalding liquid melted my dress.
With second-degree burns, he blamed me, ordering me from our home for Ilene’s comfort. My family saved him, yet he sacrificed my body and marriage for another woman.
The love I felt turned to ash. What kind of debt demanded my flesh and marriage?
I ripped the IV from my arm, hurling his "charity" keys back. My diamond ring placed on the agreement, I walked away. From today on, Ethan, you and I are dead to each other.
9.7
For three years, I believed I had the perfect, flawlessly submissive wife.
But right as I was about to sign a fifty-million-dollar divorce settlement to make her go away quietly, I suddenly heard a sharp, ecstatic voice echoing inside my skull.
"Freedom! Long live freedom! I finally shook off this absolute bastard!"
I snapped my head up, only to see Iris sitting across the table, her delicate shoulders trembling as she sobbed into her hands, looking like a shattered woman losing her entire world.
It wasn't a hallucination; I could actually hear her inner thoughts. The realization hit me like a physical blow. My fragile, heartbroken wife was a calculating hypocrite who mentally cursed me out while physically begging me to stay. When I later dragged her out of a nightclub where she was partying half-naked, I heard her true thoughts about our intimacy—she considered our nights together a mere "complimentary clause" in our business contract. Even the loving, home-cooked French dinners I cherished were exposed through her mind to be microwaved Michelin-star takeout.
For three years, I had prided myself on being a dominant, attentive husband, yet I was played for an absolute fool. How could she fake every single tear, every single touch, with such terrifying perfection while viewing me as nothing more than an ATM?
Looking at her cowering on my penthouse floor, clutching an anniversary Birkin bag she secretly planned to sell for a Porsche, a dark rush of power blinded me.
I wasn't just going to let her walk away with my millions anymore; I was going to use my new ability to rip off her mask and utterly destroy her.
9.0
As the building crumbled around us, my husband, a paramedic, held the only oxygen mask.
He gave it to his high school sweetheart, not to me, his wife who was struggling to breathe.
Pinned under a beam, I gasped that I was pregnant. He told me to stop being dramatic and left me to die, taking our son with him. My own son agreed, telling his father I always "bounce back."
I lost our baby, alone in a hospital room, while they fussed over her "anxiety attack" across the hall. They had chosen her, leaving me and our child in the rubble without a second thought.
When he finally confronted me, it wasn't to apologize, but to demand I stop my "games." So I gave him exactly what he and our son had wished for.
"I'm divorcing you," I said calmly. "And you can have Jax. I no longer want to be his mother."
8.9
NOT LIKE THIS!!!
Talia Grey never expected to meet the man she abandoned like this! A wife trapped in a marriage where the furniture are of more value than her being.
She used to be the rich kid, he was the pauper! Now he stands before her as heir to a powerful empire - cold, untouchable and dangerously handsome.
Meanwhile Ethan Reed has spent five years drowning himself in work enough to forget about her, not until one meeting shatters it all.
Five years ago, Talia Grey walked away from the only man she ever loved; bound by duty and fear. Now, his grandfather's 80th birthday and retirement celebration has brought him back to her city.
"You're.....rich?" Talia's voice dropped, her hands trembling beneath the table as she recounted the contours of his face, but Ethan scoffed with a clenched fist.
His now cold gaze pierced the eyes of the once naive young lady he'd give his all for....... "why? Are you going to divorce your husband and jump back to me? You're still so crazy over wealth....you disgust me Lia"
She felt an arrow to her chest...
He hates her for breaking him like that.... But what about her?!
Talia has never known love and acceptance till she met him, yet he lied to her!
She can't believe she gave her life to protect a lie.
Their once structured and fated lives become disrupted again. She's married, he's getting engaged....but both hearts have refused to stop aching and yearning for each other.
The question remains.... Is the universe teasing them or are they about to complete the pages of their unfinished love story????