He Missed Our Wedding, So I Married His Enemy Chapter 08

He Missed Our Wedding, So I Married His Enemy Chapter 08

ALESSIA

The pilot landed quickly enough to keep the jet from catching fire.

I escaped with minor bruises.

Carlos broke his right arm and suffered a mild concussion.

When I returned to his hospital room with his medicine, police detectives and federal aviation investigators

were leaving.

They had detained the mechanic responsible for inspecting the jet.

This was not an ordinary malfunction.

Someone had tampered with the fuel line.

Carlos sat on the bed with a bandage across his forehead.

Blood loss had left his face pale.

The moment he saw me, he held out his uninjured hand.

“Come here.”

I went to him.

His gaze moved from my face to my arms, checking for injuries.

“You’re all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

He paused.

“Have someone prepare a car.”

“We’re still going to meet your father.”

I stared at him.

He was injured, and he was still thinking about that meeting?

“I already called him.”

“We’ll go when you’ve recovered.”

Carlos seemed worried my father would be offended.

Only after I promised repeatedly that he would not did Carlos stop insisting.

He remained in the hospital for two days before returning home.

I brought my work with me and stayed at his side.

Being together all day became boring.

To pass the time, I took out art supplies I had not touched in years.

“I studied painting from high school onward.”

“After college, I became too busy managing the company to paint seriously.”

Carlos sat by the window and became my model.

His injured arm rested motionless across his lap.

As I painted, I told him stories from high school and college.

Halfway through, I remembered he had lost his father at seventeen and never finished school.

Afraid I had made him uncomfortable, I changed the subject.

“My paintings used to be popular.”

“At charity auctions, mine often received the highest bid.”

I leaned around the canvas.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

His answer was completely serious.

When the portrait was finished, I asked him to look.

“I’m out of practice.”

“You’re more handsome than the painting.”

Carlos stared at it for a long time.

“It’s beautiful.”

Then he looked at me.

“Alessia, this is the first time you’ve painted me.”

I was surprised by the weight he gave the words.

“You like it?”

‘Yes.’

“Then I can paint you often.”

Carlos nodded.

A month later, his arm had nearly healed.

I went with him to have the brace removed.

That same day, I learned Lorenzo had been taken in for questioning.

Investigators traced a payment through several shell companies from the mechanic’s account.

The money had come from a man who had worked for Lorenzo for years.

But the man accepted all responsibility.

There was no direct proof that Lorenzo ordered the sabotage.

He was released quickly.

I was too angry to sleep that night.

Carlos had clearly learned the outcome before I did.

“Don’t think about it.”

“I’ll handle him.”

He never told me how.

I did not ask.

After leaving police custody, Lorenzo’s fight with his half brother became increasingly vicious.

Without Bellandi support, he suffered defeat after defeat inside the Salvi Group, the family council, and the legitimate businesses.

For more than twenty years, he had relied on his parents.

When he finally faced someone more capable than him, he had no idea how to fight back.

Driven into a corner, Lorenzo hired another killer.

This time, the target was his own brother.

His brother was ready.

Recordings of the deal, bank transfers, and the killer’s testimony were delivered to the police.

The Salvi family called a meeting that same night and removed Lorenzo from the line of succession.

The next morning, every news network showed him in handcuffs.

He had finally destroyed everything he wanted with his own hands.

When Carlos recovered, we traveled to Maine again.

My father had objected to our rushed marriage.

After learning Carlos had protected me during the crash, his attitude softened.

He still wanted to act like a stern father-in-law.

“If you hadn’t loved my daughter in secret for all these years, and if you hadn’t saved her, I wouldn’t accept

this marriage so easily.”

“Dad!”

I tried to stop him.

Too late.

On the journey home, Carlos suddenly asked, “You told your father I’ve loved you for years?”

I gave him an awkward laugh.

“How did you know?”

I could hardly admit that I had invented it on the spot.

“You told me yourself when you were drunk.”

Carlos frowned.

“When have I ever been drunk?”

“The night you introduced me as your wife.”

He did not question me further.

He spent the entire journey trying to remember.

That evening, he finally recalled asking me to shower with him.

This time, we did.