I Loved you 11

 

Chapter 11 

le swallowed hard, gave me one sharp nod. “Yes, Boss.” Then he walked out, shoulders heavy ke he knew I’d just signed his ticket to hell. 

he silence after was louder than a gunshot. I grabbed my jacket, left the wreckage of my office ehind, and drove back to the villa. 

The place was too fucking quiet. Empty. Cold. I walked through the halls like a ghost until nded up in her old room. 

verything still smelled like her. Soap. Vanilla. That soft sweetness only Dahlia carried around ith her. I sat on her bed, then laid back flat, staring at the ceiling. Cigarette between my lips moke filling my lungs until I felt sick. 

Fuck,” I whispered into the air. “This room feels more alive than me right now.” 

My eyes burned, and that was when the memories came clawing back… 

he first time I saw her wasn’t some romantic bullshit. I was bleeding out. Rival mafia hac mbushed me on the road, and I barely crawled out of the wreck alive. They dragged me intc ome abandoned factory, beat the hell out of me, tied me to a chair. I didn’t even remember my wn fucking name. Head was pounding so bad I thought my skull had cracked. 

killed them anyway. Got shot in the process, but I crawled out like a half-dead animal. Founc yself under some broken bridge, rain pouring down, mud in my mouth. 

hat’s when she found me. Dahlia. 

arefoot. Skinny. Eyes too stubborn for her small body. She pressed her scarf against my wound hispering like her voice could keep me breathing. “Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.” 

he dragged me back from death with her bare hands. 

Veeks later, I was holed up in her shitty little apartment. She used her savings-what little she ad-on bandages, food, medicine. I hated being weak. I cursed at her, shouted, pushed her way, but she never flinched. 

One night, I snapped. Grabbed her wrist, pulled her close. “Why the fuck are you risking your life 

or me?” 

She smiled. Soft. Brave. “Because you’re worth it.” 

And I kissed her like I was starving. She kissed me back like she believed I wasn’t a monster. 

can still taste that night. 

Then there was the pier, Midnight. I bought her cheap street food because that was all I could afford. She laughed so hard her shoulders shook, and she told me it was the happiest night of her life. 

I promised her the stars. Promised her the whole damn world. 

We had nothing, but it felt like everything. I worked any job I could find just to put food on the table. She gave up her dream of medicine, started working as a cashier, and every night I waited 

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outside that store just to walk her home. 

Life was simple. And full of love. 

My chest ached so bad I sat up, dragged my hands through my hair, and cursed again. 

“Fuck… why is it too late for me to realize?” 

MRS. LIVINGSTON’S POV 

Allen came back late that night, hat in his hand, face pale as if he had crawled out of the grave 

himself. 

‘Madam,” he said, bowing low. “I’m here to report.” 

sat straight, spine stiff against the velvet chair, my pearls cool against my throat. “Speak.” 

Boss ordered me to bring Miss Dahlia back. Her ashes… or her coffin. He wants her home, 

Madam.” 

let out a soft laugh, sharp enough to cut glass. “Ashes? Coffin? That whore does not deserve even a proper grave under our name. Handle it.” 

He hesitated, and I narrowed my eyes. “Bring another urn. Fill it with whatever the hell you want. Register that name as dead. Wipe her from records, wipe her from the air. I don’t want to hear he name Dahlia after this month. Do you understand me?” 

Allen swallowed hard, nodded. “Yes, Madam. I will fake everything. Consider it done.” 

smiled. Allen was a good dog, and my grandson was a fool for believing those fake videos and photos. That bitch didn’t go to Greece-she went to Monaco. I thought she was smart enough to ake the money, but again, she was a fool for not taking it. What a pathetic woman. 

Good. Remember, Allen,” I leaned forward, my voice lowering, “my grandson may love her, but ove is a weakness. And I will not let my family bend to some gutter girl who clawed her way up. Dahlia is dead. Do you hear me? Dead.” 

Yes, Madam.” He left, shoulders bent, like a dog that had been whipped. 

turned, smoothing the folds of my silk gown. Beside me, Yvette stirred, her lashes fluttering against pale cheeks. I reached for her hand. So small. So soft. She woke slowly, eyes filled with ears as if she had been dreaming of something she lost. 

Grandma,” she whispered, her voice like honey. “You’re here.” 

Always, my child,” I said gently, stroking her knuckles. “Soon, your wedding will happen. You will be Mrs. Austin Livingston.” 

She bit her lip, looking down. “Thank you, Grandma. But I don’t want Austin to be forced. If he truly doesn’t want me…” 

‘Nonsense.” I cut her off, my tone firm. “My grandson cares for you. It is only obligation and guilt that tie him to Dahlia. Remember, it was Dahlia who saved his life three years ago. He feels indebted, that is all.” 

“But still…” her eyes glistened, fragile like glass. “Grandma, I feel sad for Austin.” 

I patted her cheek, softening my voice. “Do not be. You love him, and only you are worthy of climbing into this family. Rest now, my child. Let me handle everything.” 

Chapter 11 

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Her lips curved faintly, trusting. She nodded and closed her eyes, sinking back into sleep. 

The door opened. My husband entered, cane tapping against the marble floor, his presence filling the room like thunder. 

“They tell me Mr. Wilbert Castillo is arriving next month,” he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of a Don used to commanding armies. “I will extend an invitation to him. He must attend Austin and Yvette’s wedding.” 

I inclined my head. “Did they ever find their missing heir?” 

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