Mr Billionaire's Regret Chasing His Irresistible Wife (Jared and Arielle) novel Chapter 161

(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.

So 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 inflict pain in the most… precise way. Not enough to kill, but enough to make someone beg for death.”

I recoiled at the coldness in his tone, but I couldn’t look away.

“The old godfathers noticed. They promoted me. I became their executioner. 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 of Death.’”

My heart bounced loudly. It was surreal, but it felt 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 world…

Then Dwayne’s voice softened, almost ironically.

“The funny thing is... two years later, Grant died. The very thing he feared most came to pass—the new generation 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 for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.