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61. Ten Seconds to Get Off My Property

Author: Aliast
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-29 08:01:06

The morning after felt like a fog that didn’t know where to land.

I sat curled on the edge of the living room chair, knees drawn up beneath one of Misha’s oversized cashmere throws, a mug of tea long gone cold in my hands. The penthouse was drenched in soft, golden sunlight that didn’t match the weight in my chest.

Zachary’s voice still echoed in my head as he admitted I wasn't his biological daughter.

After that damning revelation, I left without saying goodbye. Not to my still unconscious mother. Not to Grandma. Not even to Sebastian, who had reappeared in the hallway as I slipped past the door with Misha and silence in my wake.

I didn’t regret doing that last night. But I felt it like a phantom limb. Like the ache of something once believed to be whole.

Across the room, Misha was hunched over his sleek black desk, his expression all-business as fingers tapped steadily at the keyboard. A Bluetooth headset glinted faintly on his ear, and
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  • Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife   72. You're Dripping Wet

    “No. Nope. Out,” I said, pointing toward the door like it might cast a spell strong enough to erase everything I’d just seen.But he didn’t even pause. Just toed off his shoes and pulled down his sweatpants like it was nothing.“Relax, I’m just showering.” A beat, then a smirk. “Unless you wanna wrestle me out of the rest. Again.”I made a strangled noise in the back of my throat and bolted like the room was on fire.Ridiculous. Absolutely infuriatingly dangerous.And the worst part?I couldn’t stop thinking about the way the muscles in his abs shifted when he breathed. The line of that wound. The heat behind his starless dark eyes.And that damn crooked smirk.My face flamed hotter than the eucalyptus-scented steam, and still, my thoughts circled back to him.Because of course they did.Because even when he wasn't trying, Misha Ashford knew exactly how to wreck me.No. Bad, Lorraine.

  • Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife   71. Search and Shower

    My head whipped toward him so fast it almost gave me whiplash. “Misha,” I choked, voice strangled somewhere between outrage and complete mortification.He didn’t even slow down. Just kept walking, hands in his pockets, that maddeningly smug glint in his eye.I hurried after him, practically tripping over my own feet, face burning so hot I was sure I’d combust. “You can’t just say things like that!”He glanced over his shoulder, completely unfazed. “Why not? It’s true. I’ve been good all week.”My jaw dropped. “We are in Vincent Vescari’s house. There are probably microphones in the walls!”He tilted his head, mock thoughtful. “Then let them listen. Might give them something interesting for once.”“Misha!” I swatted his arm, scandalized, but he only laughed.God, my face was on fire. I could feel my cheeks flaming, ears glowing, pulse thudding in places I didn’t want to think about. I turned away, trying to coll

  • Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife   70. Don't Get Us Killed Before Dinner

    We passed by a doorway where I caught a glimpse of a poker table mid-play. A man in a sharp blue suit looked up as we passed, holding a hand of cards and a glass of bourbon. He winked at me.Misha subtly shifted to block the view, making me heave a sigh of relief. Renaldi pushed open a pair of heavy oak doors. “This is the library.”It was massive. There were many shelves of aged leather, handwritten ledgers, and framed contracts under glass. A spiral staircase wound up the side like a snake around a tree. The fireplace flickered low. It looked more like a strategic planning room than a reading space.“Mr. Vescari often works from here,” Renaldi said. “Files, archives, history. You’re free to enter, but nothing leaves this room.”I nodded, though the knot in my stomach was growing tighter.As we left, someone else entered, a tall man with a scar on his neck and a tablet in his hand. He didn’t look at me, but I felt the chill beh

  • Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife   69. Welcome to the Vescari Mansion

    The gates creaked open and swallowed us whole.Vincent’s car rolled in first, black and gleaming like it had been forged from oil and smoke. Ours followed behind, the hum of the engine too quiet for how loud everything else felt inside my chest.When we finally stopped at the front steps, I couldn’t move for a second.The mansion towered in front of us. Too big and old for my liking. Its windows stared back like watchful eyes. Ivy climbed the walls like nature itself had tried and failed to reclaim this place.Misha opened the door for me without a word, like a gentleman he sometimes was. I stepped out, heels clicking on the stone driveway, and tried not to look like I wanted to throw up.Vincent was already out of his car and Renaldi hovered just behind him.“Lorraine.” His voice was calm as he called my name. “Welcome home.”I tensed at the word.Home.He said it like it was some long-lost inheritance

  • Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife   68. We Used Eachother

    “You could’ve shot him, you know?” I said to Misha, watching his reaction from the corner of my eyes. But he didn't give much, merely turning on the wheel as the road made a turn ahead. “I could.”“You made me bring your gun in my purse and you knew I was scared. You could’ve ended it right there. But why not?”Misha didn’t look away from the road. “That’s not how this works. I wouldn't want to be in jail for killing a mafia boss. That'd be dumb.”“You’ve killed before.”“Yes. When it mattered. That wasn’t the time.”“You made me bring a gun,” I snapped. Misha chuckled at me. “You're scared shitless earlier, now you're so eager to see me use it on your dad?”I gaped at him. “He’s not my dad.”“Sure he is. Already done the DNA test, he just confirmed.”Huffing, I turned to the window on my side. “He may be my biological father, but he's not my dad.”“And Zachary Redmond is?”

  • Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife   67. She's My Wife Before Your Daughter

    The food meant nothing.I couldn’t even remember what I’d ordered. Something expensive, probably. Something delicate and ridiculously plated with tweezers and edible flowers. Not that I could taste it. I chewed, nodded when appropriate, and tried not to look like I was slowly being pulled under the surface by invisible currents.Vincent ate like a man used to dining with enemies. His movements were controlled, deliberate, and watchful. Every slice of his knife, every sip of wine, felt like part of a quiet ritual meant to assert dominance without a word.By contrast, Misha ate with the easy calm of someone who’d faced worse. No tension, and just his quiet confidence. Where Vincent’s control was practiced, Misha’s ease was born naturally.When the plates were cleared and the espresso was served in tiny, fragile cups in front of the three of us, Vincent finally leaned back. He looked at me. “You should come with me,” he said, simply.

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