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Chapter 19: Whiskey and warnings.
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2025-06-17 17:31:21
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Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 19: Whiskey and warnings.
The neon sign of Club Nine Hundred flickered erratically, its violet glow staining the rain-slicked pavement like a fresh bruise. Adam Lancaster leaned against the alley wall, letting the icy drizzle numb his face. He'd lost count of how many nights he'd spent staring at this same buzzing sign, seeking refuge in the only place where the Lancaster name meant less than the thickness of his wallet. With a final drag of his cigarette, he crushed it beneath his Oxfords and stepped into the chaos. ---Inside the VIP roomThe private lounge hovered above the dance floor like a predator's nest, its one-way glass offering a perfect view of the writhing masses below. Dante Moretti was already pouring four fingers of Macallan M into a tumbler when Adam entered, the bottle's £25,000 price tag glinting in the low light. "Christ," Dante muttered, taking in Adam's disheveled appearance—the undone collar, the shadowed eyes, the barely contained fury vibrating through his frame. "Eve's been busy
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 18: More to Secrets
The Lancaster Group headquarters pierced the skyline like a steel dagger, its mirrored surface reflecting the morning sun with blinding intensity. Adam stormed through the executive floor, his custom suit jacket whipping behind him like a battle standard. Employees scattered from his path—nobody wanted to be collateral damage when the heir was in this mood. The poison incident had left him volatile, his usual icy control replaced by something far more dangerous. Eve appeared beside him as the elevator doors closed, her scarlet lips curved in a mockery of concern. "You look terrible, darling. Didn't sleep?" Adam jabbed the penthouse button. "What do you want, Eve?" "Just making sure my favorite stepson remembers his 10 AM with the Singapore investors." Her manicured finger tapped his chest. "Vincent would be...disappointed if you missed it and I didn't think you'll like the pet this much."The elevator lurched upward. Adam's knuckles whitened around the railing. "Tell Vincent I
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 17: Back to the cage
I sat stiffly in the back of the Rolls-Royce, watching rain streak the tinted windows as we wound up the serpentine driveway. My body still hummed with residual poison, every nerve ending raw. The doctors had pumped me full of enough activated charcoal to turn my tongue black, but the real toxin—Eve’s whispered words about Mama—still coursed through my veins. Adam’s thigh pressed against mine in the cramped space, his body angled as if to shield me from invisible threats. His fingers flexed against his knee, the same hand that had held the syringe that saved me now looking strangely vulnerable. “You’re shaking,” he muttered. I clenched my fists to stop the tremors. “I’m fine.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. He reached into the mini-fridge embedded in the seat console and pulled out a bottle of water. “Drink.” The condensation dripped onto my hospital-issued sweatpants as I took it. Adam watched me swallow with an intensity that should’ve made the water boil in my throat. “Sl
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 16: lingering Darkness
The darkness didn’t last. Consciousness returned in jagged pieces—the antiseptic sting of the air, the rhythmic beeping of machines, the dull ache in my arms where IVs had been jammed into my veins. My mouth tasted like copper and regret. I wasn’t dead. Somehow, that felt like the worst betrayal of all. Adam sat slumped in the chair beside my bed, his usually immaculate suit wrinkled, his knuckles bruised. He was asleep, his dark lashes casting shadows over the sharp angles of his face. Even in rest, he looked like a storm waiting to break. I moved, and pain lanced through my ribs. A choked gasp escaped me. Adam’s eyes snapped open. For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. His gaze dropped to my throat—where the bruises from whatever happened must still be blooming—then flicked away, as if he couldn’t bear the sight. "You weren’t breathing," he said, voice rough. "Your heart stopped for forty-seven seconds." I swallowed. "You counted?" His jaw tightened. "I a
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 15: Poor Lucia
The meeting unfolded like a scene from some grotesque play, visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite. Below on the pool terrace, crystal glasses caught the moonlight as they clinked together, the sound carrying up to me like broken wind chimes. I pressed my palms against the cool glass, watching the surreal tableau. Papa—who had arrived barely an hour ago bleeding and broken—now stood laughing with the infamous Black Mamba, their arms slung over each other's shoulders like frat brothers after a bender. The bloodstains on his chauffeur's uniform were the only evidence that the earlier horror hadn't been some fever dream. Adam and George sat slightly apart from the revelry, their postures rigid even in the plush lounge chairs. Adam's fingers drummed an uneven rhythm against his whiskey glass, while George's scarred eyebrow remained permanently arched in skepticism. What game are they playing now?The question burned through me as I traced the condensation o
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 14: Black Mamba
The elevator's chime cut through the penthouse like a gunshot. I turned just as the doors slid open, revealing my father slumped against the polished brass interior. His chauffeur's uniform was drenched in blood, the dark crimson stark against the starched white of his shirt. One trembling hand pressed against his abdomen, while the other left smeared fingerprints along the mirrored wall as he struggled to stay upright. "They know," he gasped, his voice raw with pain. Adam moved before I could process the words, catching Papa as his knees gave out. Blood splattered across the marble foyer in grotesque Rorschach patterns as he half-carried, half-dragged him toward the living room. "George!" Adam's voice cracked through the penthouse like a whip. "Medkit. Now." I fell to my knees beside the sofa, my hands fluttering uselessly over the wound. The coppery scent of blood mixed with something darker—cordite. Gunpowder. Someone had shot him at close range. "Who did this?" My
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