𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝟏𝟒| 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋

Hello Butterflies,

Here is another chapter for you guys. We are about to reach 200k . I'm so thankful to each one of you for giving my book the love.

Today's Target has 1k+ votes and 400+ comments.
( I know it would be very easy as every chapter is getting more than 1k+ votes. You guys have time till next Friday)

Now read and enjoy ❤️‍🩹

"You haven't told me that. What should I do with those morons?" Michael asked as we stood leaning on the railing of the corridor outside my room. I faced my room's closed door while he looked down, and I ignored the fact that he must be staring at my sister's room like a hawk.

"I want them to feel the fear that my wife felt when they chased her. They should feel as though the world is going to end, but their pain will never end," I said, thinking of what my woman must be doing inside our room.

"Why would you give her the phone? What if she calls her parents or the police?" Michael asked.

"I don't give a fuck about her parents, who bought money for giving my goddess, and about the police. Do you really think they are capable enough to come here without shaking in their knees? Those are a bunch of idiots. Well, if she wants, she can call the police. I don't want her to feel dejected about not being able to contact them," I said, still in a daze over how beautiful my wife looked in that red gown.

"I think she's slowly changing you. You've started to stop using your brain," Michael said in an amused tone.

"For the past thirty years of my life, I have never considered my heart as anything but an organ for pumping blood. But after meeting her, I have realized that my heart has been beating all these years just to become hers. So in matters that include her, my mind and heart will only think and process in her favor," I said, unable to believe I was saying these things.

"Wow... you should step down from the position of Don and try to become a poet. I think Arthur Vaidehi Sinclair has the potential to become a world-famous poet," Michael said, chuckling at the end.

"If you stare at my sister's door for more than five seconds, I'm going to write a poem with my dagger on your not-so-handsome face, tu, parassita senza cervello," I said without looking at him and heard him let out a shaky breath.

("You brainless pest.")

"I take back what I said earlier. You haven't changed a bit. Sei ancora il diavolo spietato che tutti conoscono, stronzo," he said while turning to face me, and I smirked at him.

("You are still the ruthless devil everyone knows, you asshole.")

♡

With each passing second, my patience was draining. It had been about half an hour since I started waiting outside my room, giving my wife the privacy she needed to talk with whomever she wanted. After letting out a heavy sigh, I opened the door to our room, only to be met with the sight of my crying wife. Panic and fear coursed through my veins as I advanced towards her. Her cheeks and nose were red as she continuously wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hands.