Mr billionaire's regret chasing his irresistible wife by Gabby Emmanuel

Why?

(ARIELLE'S POV)

I watched Dwayne's eyes grow dark with a hatred I couldn't describe. It sent a wave of goosebumps sprouting up along my arms and on the ridge of my neck. I felt my eyes tear up and I had to exercise restraint to make sure I didn't cry in front of him. "There must've been a reason... right?" I tried to reason, forcing myself to speak through the tightness in my throat. "He must've wanted to help you but just couldn't..."

Dwayne let out a mirthless laugh that rattled through me, cold and sharp.

"I wish," he shook his head. "When I got to the U.S., finding him wasn't hard. Old habits die hard, and he'd brought his business with him. At that point, he'd made quite the name for himself. But the worst part? Seeing him living this... this perfect life with his wife and son. I saw him. Arielle. I saw Jared."

His voice dipped, "He was living the life my father had denied me. I bit back the pain and told myself I didn't care. After all, he hadn't been my father for years. Not since he sent me away to Torino." Dwayne's lips twisted bitterly. "I waited for days to see him. I think he made me wait on purpose, like some twisted game. But I didn't mind. I would've done anything for Felipe for revenge. I finally got to see him. And I wish I never had."

He paused, his eyes growing cold with that same hate. It was chilling to watch.

"He looked me in the eyes and told me there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing. He said, 'Let the dead bury their dead.' I was... I was livid, Arielle. I confronted him about his honor, about his friend, but he just looked at me like I wasn't even worth listening to. And then he said something that destroyed whatever was left of my relationship with him. He told me he'd ordered Felipe's death."

I covered my mouth in disbelief.

"Those weren't rival gangs that raided the casino," Dwayne continued, his voice low and deadly. "They were his men. Grant's men. Felipe, he wasn't the kind to lose. He wasn't reckless, but he stuck with what he knew and built his business from the ground up. His casino was starting to show real promise, and Felipe had bigger plans he wanted to expand across Torino."

Dwayne's fists clenched, and I could see his nails digging into his palms.

"Grant saw it as a threat. And so he had him killed."

A long, loaded silence hung in the air as Dwayne's eyes hardened, and I could feel the bitterness radiating off of him. His words struck deep, and I understood now why his anger had festered for so long. He wasn't just angry-he was torn apart.

"If I thought I hated the man before," he went on, "I developed something worse than hate for him. I abhorred him like one would do the devil. I wished to harm him for taking away the one person I had come to care about after my mother. But I couldn't hurt him. I was just a teenager on a rebellious streak.

collection duties for Mafia bosses, substance peddling. But I wanted more.

his tone, but I couldn't look

punishing those who crossed the line. I did it so well, so efficiently, that they started calling me

real. I remembered the head chef's praise for Dwayne's knife skills back in culinary school. It suddenly felt like a different

Dwayne's voice softened, almost

of ruthless Mafia leaders began to rise. His empire crumbled. The great Grant Whitmore Smith's reign ended just like he feared." He fell silent

attended the

him, standing there. And at that moment, hated him. In my mind, he was the reason my father had abandoned me. He'd taken my place. Stolen everything that was mine. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted

a man who had taken lives. But he was so contradictory. His eyes were glinting, like

speaking more than his words, "I had lost my mom, Uncle Felipe; I had lost everything because of my father's selfishness.

his eyes locking with mine. And suddenly, it all clicked. I understood why Dwayne kept so much to himself. Why he hid behind walls of silence and secrets. Why he created a

been barely more than a teenager himself at that time-fifteen, maybe sixteen. Still just a kid, too. And yet, he'd been forced to bear that

in ways I could never fully understand. And all this distance, all this self-protection-it

him nothing but suffering, yet he stood tall, sober, and unbroken, unwilling to hurt those who didn't deserve it. But who could make up for the wounds he'd suffered? How could anyone

me. His eyes flickered, and

said, his voice soft. "I can

head before he could finish. "No," I whispered urgently. "Please. Don't

once held back with so much effort, now spilled freely down my face. I swiped at them with my fingers, but before I could stop myself, Dwayne had already pulled a handkerchief from his pocket

myself to hurt

funeral," Dwayne murmured, his voice low. "I went to see my grandmother just to see if she

my voice made her

spoke about him-so... endearingly-it tore me apart. It made me realize

no use for. The truth was, I hated her and everything she represented. couldn't bring myself to kill Jared but that doesn't mean I've forgiven anyone in the

I left. But for