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.

I returned to Italy, marking in my heart that my father was dead to me. I joined the Mafia as a racket boy. Did the dirty jobs, debt collection duties for Mafia bosses, substance peddling. But I wanted more. I had wanted to be a doctor before all this, you know. I studied human anatomy. I learned how to

coldness in his

I handled their dirty work-taking out enemies and punishing those who crossed the line. I did it so well, so efficiently, that they started calling me 'The Hand

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

voice softened,

ruthless Mafia leaders began to rise. His empire crumbled. The great Grant Whitmore Smith's reign

attended the funeral. Secretly,

my mind, he was the reason my father had abandoned me. He'd taken my place. Stolen everything that was mine. I wanted to

a man who had taken lives. But he was so contradictory. His

had lost everything because of my father's selfishness. He lost everything because of his own pride. But Jared? He was just a kid, Arielle. The kid didn't deserve that.

to himself. Why he

the math, I realized Dwayne had 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 weight alone. How had he survived that? How had he made it through, all on his own?

was hurting inside, in ways I could never fully understand. And all this distance, all this self-protection-it was his response to that

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?

me. His eyes flickered, and for the first time,

voice soft. "I can stop if you

could finish. "No,"

tears 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

myself to hurt

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

my voice made

reason my parents never got together. And then she begged me not to harm Jared. The way she spoke about him-so... endearingly-it tore me apart. It made me

connections-promises of things I had 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

left.