His Bride Of Revenge

His Bride Of Revenge

Cassandra Mills · Ongoing · 163.9k Words

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Introduction

"You're trembling," he murmured, his thumb brushing slowly over her lips. "Is it fear... or is it me?"
Her pulse betrayed her before her voice ever could. He was too close. Too dangerous. And her body no longer knew which feeling came first, terror or desire.
Elena Castellano was never meant to become collateral in a war between families. But after a brutal attack turns her world upside down, her father makes an unthinkable decision to protect her. He binds her future to Stefano Bernardo, the ruthless heir of one of Milan's most feared dynasties.
To the outside world, their marriage is a powerful alliance.
To Stefano, it is revenge.
Cold, calculating, and impossibly controlled, Stefano has waited years for the perfect moment to strike back at the Castellano name. Marrying Elena is part of the plan. Breaking her family is the goal.
Now trapped in a gilded cage of wealth and danger, Elena must navigate a marriage built on secrets, resentment, and a simmering tension neither of them can ignore. Stefano's vengeance runs deeper than she ever imagined, and every glance feels like a warning. Every touch feels like temptation.
But the greatest threat may not be his hatred or the enemies watching from the shadows.
It may be the way her heart responds to the very man determined to destroy everything she loves.
He married her to ruin her family. She was never supposed to make him question everything.
When revenge and desire collide in a world ruled by power and blood, can love survive the consequences?

Chapter 1

  Elena's POV

  Someone should have warned me that tonight might be the night I die... or at least almost die.

  "No… no… no, what the hell was that?" I screamed as glass shattered behind me.

  "That was obviously a gunshot. Oh God! Not tonight, please." My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. My whole body tensed as the sharp smell of gunpowder filled the car.

  I pressed the gas pedal hard with my foot and gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to regain control.

  Through the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of two headlights rushing toward me, and my hands instinctively tightened on the wheel.

  "What am I going to do? Elena, you've got to think… think…" My chest tightened, and cold sweat broke out across my forehead, dripping into my eyes, while my palms slipped on the wheel as I struggled to maintain control.

  "Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the engine's roar. "Please, God, help me."

  The street ahead was empty, with streetlights stretching across the wet road. Milan at night looked too peaceful for this kind of bullshit to be happening right now.

  Another shot hit my side mirror, and the glass shattered with a loud crash. I flinched, swerving to avoid losing control. "Who are you?" I shouted into the night, slamming the steering wheel in frustration. "What the hell do you want from me?"

  My mind raced with a million thoughts.

  "I can't just sit here. I have to do something." My heart raced as I reached for my small black gun from the glove compartment. Papa's advice echoed in my mind: "Never leave home without it." Thank goodness I had it with me tonight.

  I rolled down the window, feeling the wind on my face as I aimed the gun with shaking hands. "Come on," I hissed, desperation in my voice. "Come closer."

  And they did.

  I fired twice but missed. The SUV swerved but quickly regained control, getting even closer.

  Just then, my phone vibrated on the dashboard, lighting up with a text from an unknown number, and I glanced at the screen for a second.

  An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

  "Holy shit! I'm dead." My hands trembled so violently that I could barely hold the wheel.

  The Lorusso clan. I'd heard that phrase since I was a kid, whispered at funerals and painted in blood on walls after attacks.

  They had haunted my family for years, with a vendetta that seemed endless. My father warned me about them constantly, and I saw what they did to my mother.

  Now they have found me.

  "Crap! Why do I have such bad luck?" I couldn't move, just sat there, stunned by the impossible fact that this was happening.

  My hand trembled as I raised the gun, my fingers tightening on the trigger. I shot again; this time, the bullet shattered their windshield, but they showed no signs of stopping.

  Then I felt it before I heard it: a bullet ripped through my shoulder. Pain shot through me, making the gun slip from my hand as my right arm went limp. "Ahhhhh, God…" I fought back a cry as I gripped the wheel with my left hand, the fabric of my cream shirt soaked with blood.

  I pressed the gas pedal down, and the car surged forward, desperately focused on putting as much distance between us as I could manage.

  The road blurred as I squinted through the cracked glass. The Palazzo Kiton building flashed past on my left. "I have to be careful, the road here can be very tricky," I whispered, as I forced my foot to ease up just a little.

  My thoughts raced, tangled in fear and adrenaline, and all I could think about was staying alive; nothing else mattered.

  "Help me," I whispered, not sure who I was asking – God, fate, or anyone that might save me.

  Then, the SUV suddenly rammed into my bumper, jolting me forward so fast that my mouth slammed against the wheel, and I immediately tasted blood filling my mouth.

  "No, this has got to end," I hissed sharply, my jaw throbbing with pain.

  I swerved hard, trying to lose them, but the SUV stayed behind.

  "Oh noooooo…" I murmured frantically, panic setting in as I realized my mistake. I had forgotten how dangerous the road could be.

  My tires screeched as the car lost control. I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late; a tire burst, sending the car flipping over and sliding off the road.

  Everything spiraled out of control; my body jerked forward, then sideways, and a brutal impact slammed my head into the steering wheel. Pain erupted as my vision blurred, and I think I saw my life flash before me.

  Then, there was complete silence.

  The seatbelt pressed into my ribs, keeping me in place as a loud ringing filled my ears, and I watched smoke rise from the hood.

  My head throbbed, pain stabbing through my shoulder as I felt warm blood trickle down the side of my face.

  "Shit, this wasn't how I expected today to end," the thought echoed numbly through my mind.

  I tried to lift my hands, but nothing moved; they simply rested by my side, and all I could hear was my heart pounding.

  I blinked hard, forcing my eyes to focus.

  Looking through the cracked windshield, I saw the empty road; the SUV was nowhere in sight. They left me to die.

  ​"Papa," I forced the word out. "I'm sorry."

  My entire body felt heavy and numb, as if it belonged to someone else.

  "So this is it," my lips trembled. "This is how I die."

  Pain throbbed in my shoulder with every heartbeat. I sank back, my eyes tightly shut, and the harsh truth hit me hard — I'd been stupid to think I could ever truly escape or believe I could walk away from all of this.

  Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision, and I couldn't tell whether it was fear, regret, or just the pain that made me cry.

  Memories of home flooded my mind, along with my father's voice saying, "You're not ready for the world out there, Elena. You wouldn't last a night."

  Looks like you were right, Papa,

  Remembering Lucia's voice echoing in my room earlier that night, I felt a wave of regret wash over me. "Your father wouldn't like you sneaking out again," she had warned me.

  A soft, bittersweet laugh escaped my lips. "You were right, Lucia. He's not going to be happy about this either."

  I'd spent weeks planning this escape, desperate to get away from my family's mess and to have a life where I didn't have to look over my shoulder every second, where I could truly make my own choices. But now, sitting here bleeding, I felt completely hopeless.

  Elena Castellano, you really should have stayed home.

  I tried to reach for my phone, but it was missing, lying somewhere on the floor out of reach. I just wanted to scream. "You wanted freedom, Elena," I gently scolded myself. "This is the price," I said, as tears rolled down my face.

  I began to lose consciousness. My breathing slowed, and all I could taste was blood on my tongue. My chest tightened, and I felt myself slipping away.

  Somewhere far off, I thought I heard a siren, but maybe it was just in my head.

  As my vision dimmed, a disturbing thought entered my mind: "At twenty-five, I had never even been kissed, and now I was about to die. How pathetic was my life?"

  "This is what it means to be born a Castellano," I sighed, my breath trembling as everything faded.

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