MasukThe cries echoed again.Soft, broken, desperate.Isadora pressed a hand against her chest, trying to steady her breathing. Her heart raced so loudly she could barely hear anything else for a moment. But then—Another cry.This one longer.Weaker.Full of fear.She swallowed hard.Someone was down there.A real person.A real voice.Isadora forced herself to move. Her legs felt like they were made of glass, shaking with every step. But she moved anyway.She followed the sound.The hallway grew darker the deeper she went. The lamps on the walls flickered, the air colder. Her feet were silent on the floor, but her breathing grew faster.“Hello?” she whispered softly.No answer.Only crying.She moved closer.There was a door at the very end of the hall. A metal one. Thick. Unlike the others. It had no number. No label. Nothing written on it.Just a heavy lock.Isadora reached out slowly and touched the handle.To her shock—It turned.The door wasn’t locked.She hesitated. Her throat tig
Lorenzo’s room was silent, except for the low sound of the waves outside the balcony. The night was calm. The sky was dark. The air felt heavy. He stood near the large window, hands in his pockets, staring out at the endless ocean. The wind pushed gently against the glass. His jaw was tense. Behind him stood one of his men — his most loyal guard, Ryker. Ryker waited quietly, watching his boss’s back. There was something different in the atmosphere. Something sharp. Something dangerous. Finally, Ryker spoke. “Sir… can I ask you something?” Lorenzo didn’t turn around. “You can.” Ryker swallowed before he said it. “Do you like her?” Silence. Lorenzo didn’t move. The question hung in the air like a knife. Ryker waited. Finally, Lorenzo turned from the window. His eyes were unreadable. “That is not the right word,” he said. Ryker frowned. “Then what is the right word?” Lorenzo walked slowly toward a table. His movements were controlled, elegant, like a panther. He poured
Isadora opened her eyes slowly.Morning light touched the room. Soft gold spread across the ceiling. The sheets smelled clean. The bed was warm. The air was quiet.Too quiet.She stared up at the high ceiling and lay still.Her heart beat slowly, but heavy.The first thought in her mind was sharp, clear, painful:How do I escape this hell?She turned to her side. She was alone. No chains. No ropes. No guards inside. But that did not mean she was free. She knew that.She took a deep breath.“I cannot stay here,” she whispered to herself. “I will lose myself. I will lose my mind. I have to leave.”Her hands gripped the sheets.Last night, Lorenzo had kissed her. She still felt it on her mouth. It was not gentle. It was not safe. It was possession. It was madness.She hated how her body had reacted. She hated how her heart had jumped. She hated how her breath caught. She hated herself for a second.“That kiss means nothing,” she whispered. “He is a monster.”She sat up slowly.Her mind r
Lorenzo’s room was silent, except for the low sound of the waves outside the balcony. The night was calm. The sky was dark. The air felt heavy.He stood near the large window, hands in his pockets, staring out at the endless ocean. The wind pushed gently against the glass. His jaw was tense.Behind him stood one of his men — his most loyal guard, Ryker.Ryker waited quietly, watching his boss’s back. There was something different in the atmosphere. Something sharp. Something dangerous.Finally, Ryker spoke.“Sir… can I ask you something?”Lorenzo didn’t turn around.“You can.”Ryker swallowed before he said it.“Do you like her?”Silence.Lorenzo didn’t move.The question hung in the air like a knife.Ryker waited.Finally, Lorenzo turned from the window. His eyes were unreadable.“That is not the right word,” he said.Ryker frowned. “Then what is the right word?”Lorenzo walked slowly toward a table. His movements were controlled, elegant, like a panther. He poured himself a drink. T
Evening arrived with a strange quietness.The house felt tense, like the walls were holding their breath.Isadora walked into the dining room. The long table was already set. Plates, wine glasses, silver cutlery. Candles burned slowly in the chandeliers, making the room glow gold and warm.But she felt no warmth.Lorenzo sat at the head of the table. His posture was straight. His eyes calm. His fingers tapped slowly against the table.He watched her enter.“Sit,” he said.Isadora took the seat opposite him. She lifted her chin and met his eyes without fear.“You look tired,” he said.“I am fine.”“Good.”Silence fell. Heavy. Thick.Then the door opened.Isadora’s heart twisted.Alina entered.She held a tray with soup bowls. Her face was pale. Her arms and back were stiff, still healing from the whipping. Each step looked painful, but she did not make a sound. She kept her eyes down.Isadora almost stood from her chair.“What is she doing here?” Isadora asked sharply.Lorenzo looked a
Morning sunlight fell across the room. Isadora sat on the edge of the bed, watching the sea outside the window. She had barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the screams again. Alina’s voice. The crack of the whip. The sound of pain.She touched her own chest.She did not cry.She just sat there and breathed.A knock came at the door. Not gentle. Firm.Isadora stood.“Come in.”A guard opened the door. He bowed slightly.“Lord Lorenzo requests your presence,” he said. “Now.”Isadora nodded.“Lead the way.”She followed the guard down the hallway. The tiles were cold under her feet. The house smelled of coffee and polished wood. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. The air felt tense. The walls seemed to listen.The guard stopped at a large door.“He is inside.”Isadora pushed the door open.Lorenzo stood near the window, hands behind his back. His eyes were on the ocean. He did not turn when she entered. The sunlight touched his shoulders, making his silhouette sharp and
![Fallen From Grace [Married to the Mafia Novel]](https://acfs1.goodnovel.com/dist/src/assets/images/book/43949cad-default_cover.png)






