REBORN My Second Life I Became The Villianess (Nyxara) novel Chapter 91

When we reached my room, I walked straight into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, washing away the layers of makeup, hairspray, and the heavy scent of champagne and expensive cologne. By the time I stepped back out into the bedroom wearing a simple cotton sleep shirt, Dario was already sitting on the edge of the mattress, his jacket discarded over a chair and his tie loosened at his throat.

I climbed under the heavy blankets, letting out a soft sigh as my head hit the pillow. Dario didn't waste a second. He shifted closer, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest so there wasn't an inch of space between us.

"We'll be heading back home tomorrow," he said, his voice low and steady in the dark room as his fingers traced slow circles against my lower back. "The real wedding preparations start the minute we land."

I closed my eyes, resting my cheek against his warm shoulder. "Okay." I whispered.

He paused for a second, his hand pausing its movement before he looked down at me in the dim light. "What do you intend to do when we get back, and how will you tell Carlton? Word is going to reach the back north by tomorrow morning that the mafia king of the south formally introduced you as his daughter on live news feeds and international reports. It's going to be all over the papers." he said.

I kept my voice quiet, staring up at the dark ceiling. "When we return home, I'll go see him privately and speak to him face-to-face. He raised me with genuine kindness, and he deserves to hear it from me first, not from a television screen. And the men Nysa hired to cause trouble will be releasing her soon, just like we planned, so she can go back to him and live out whatever quiet, miserable life she has left without any real business or investments to her name." I said.

Dario nodded slowly, his fingers returning to trace the line of my spine. "Okay. Whatever you need to handle, we'll do it." he said.

"Good," I whispered, letting the heavy exhaustion pull me under.

Morning sunlight was streaming brightly through the bedroom windows when I woke up the next day. The estate downstairs was already moving with efficient, quiet activity as the cleaning crews packed away the remnants of the previous night's party.

After a quick breakfast in the dining room with my dad, Uncle Pascal, and the rest of the family, we walked out to the front steps. Our luggage was already packed and loaded into the convoy waiting in the drive, and Dario’s private jet was prepped at the airfield, waiting to take us back north.

Before I stepped into the car, Uncle Pascal walked up to me, holding out a thick manila folder tied with a clean white string.

"The file you asked for," Uncle Pascal said quietly, his eyes meeting mine with absolute seriousness. "All the legal proof, medical documentation, and historical records proving Nysa was your biological mother and Pedro is your father. It's airtight." He said.

I took the folder, holding it securely against my side. "Thank you, Uncle Pascal." I said hugging him. I turned to my dad, stepping into his arms and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He pulled me close, his grip firm and grounding for just a second before he let me go.

"See you soon, Dad," I said, looking up into his face. "You'll be coming down in a week for the wedding."

"I wouldn't miss it," my dad said, a rare, faint trace of a smile touching the corners of his mouth.

I turned back and hugged Uncle Pascal tightly too, thanking him for keeping everything running smoothly over the past week. Just before I opened the car door, my dad reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out four sleek, black credit cards, holding them out toward me. "Take these." he said.

I looked down at them, a small, genuine smile slipping out. "Thank you, Dad."

"Put them to good use," he said, giving a short nod.

Dario and I climbed into the back of the SUV, the heavy doors shutting out the noise of the estate as the vehicle shifted into gear and pulled away from the gates. The drive to the private airfield was quiet and smooth, the wide road stretching out before us under the bright morning sky. All the way there, Dario kept his hand locked firmly around mine, his fingers interlaced with mine against the leather seat, holding onto me the entire way as we headed back home.

The private jet touched down on the tarmac right at noon, the heavy tires hitting the runway with a smooth thud as the engines whined down. We walked straight from the steps of the plane down to the waiting black town car parked right at the edge of the strip. The second I buckled my seatbelt and the car pulled away, I pulled my phone out of my bag, tapping the screen to start a secure group call.

I dialled Chloe and Leo. They answered almost immediately on the second ring.

"Hey boss," Leo’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and steady.

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