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Chapter 16 — Dead Air
publish date:
2026-07-22 17:13:57
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My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 21 — Cold Trade
SebTHE REPETITIVE, deafening bang-bang-bang of my custom 1911 echoed off the reinforced concrete walls of the underground firing range.Sharp white light glinted off the spent brass casings raining onto the epoxy floor at my feet, bouncing with sharp metallic pings before coming to a rest in the dark shadows.Down range, sixty feet into the gloom, the paper target tore open in tight, violent bursts. Every shot grouped in the center of the chest silhouette—dead center, precise, lethal.I ejected the empty magazine, letting the steel frame drop to the concrete, and reached for the fresh loaded one resting on the heavy wooden counter beside me.The pungent scent of burnt cordite, gun oil, and hot steel filled the subterranean room—the only place in Milan where the constant, suffocating noise inside my head finally went quiet.The heavy steel security door at the back of the range hissed op
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 20 — A Shadow in the Garden
BelaTHE STOLEN keycard felt hot against the palm of my hand.I waited in the dark alcove near the eastern wing, my heart hammering against my ribs. Every three minutes, two armed guards swept the third-floor corridor before taking the secondary elevator down to the courtyard.During the confusion of Alessandra’s arrival yesterday, I had managed to swipe the silver security pass from a guard's jacket left in the pantry.The moment the heavy footsteps faded down the hall, I moved.I rushed toward the heavy steel double doors labeled ARCHIVES / SECURE DATA. I pressed the keycard against the scanner. The light blinked red once, then flashed green with a soft, mechanical click.I slipped inside and pulled the door shut behind me, plunging myself into cold, quiet dark.The archives were vast, smelling of old paper, ozone, and metal. Row after row of floor-to-ceiling steel cabinets filled the windowless room. I pulled out a small penlight from my sweater pocket, casting a narrow beam of whi
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 19 — Glass Walls
SebTHE DINING room at Palazzo Moretti smelled of old money, wet marble, and aged wine.Across the polished mahogany table, Don Bernardo Moretti cut into his steak with slow, deliberate precision. Every movement was a performance, every silence a calculated test.Sitting to his right was Alessandra, quiet and poised in dark silk. But my focus stayed entirely on her father.Outside the high arched windows, four of my best men—discreet, fully armed, and on high alert—kept watch over the courtyard.Every entry point to the property was logged on the encrypted device resting inside my jacket pocket. Milan was quiet, but under the surface, the current was shifting.“You’ve consolidated the northern docks quickly, Sebastian,” Don Moretti said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He set his knife down with a soft clink. “Impressive for a Don so young. But speed often leaves
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 18 — The Snake at the Table
BelaI was a prisoner again.I stood in the center of the room, my heart beating fast against my ribs. Outside, the sky over Milan was dark and gray, heavy with rain that refused to fall. Down in the courtyard below, the quiet routine of the penthouse had completely shattered.I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading to the balcony. I didn't open them—the guards had already locked the handles from the outside—but I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and looked down into the driveway.Four black SUVs rolled through the main gate in a tight, professional formation. Armed men in sharp suits stepped out first, their hands resting close to the holsters under their jackets. They lined up along the stone steps like stone statues, creating a safe path toward the grand entrance.Then, the door of the center sedan opened.A woman stepped out onto the damp pavement. Even from the top floor, she was impossible to miss. She wore a tailored crimson coat and high heels that
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 17 — The Guest Who Never Leaves
BelaThe change inside the penthouse didn't happen overnight, it seeped into the walls over three days of relentless, unnerving activity.I watched from the gallery above the grand living area as an endless stream of staff moved like clockwork through the corridors.Freshly cut white orchids—heavily scented, suffocating, and thoroughly unlike the simple, unpretentious greenery I preferred—were delivered in crystal vases and arranged along every windowsill.The guest suite in the eastern wing was completely overhauled, its furniture swapped for velvet drapery and handcrafted Italian leather.Down in the subterranean garage, the dull roar of high-end engines echoed regularly as sleek, dark luxury sedans arrived, adding even more armed personnel to an already suffocating security detail.Nobody explained anything to me.To the guards, I was a ghost they were instructed to protect and ignore.To the kit
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 16 — Dead Air
SebTHE LEATHER interior of the Bentley smelled of old smoke and rain.Rain had been falling over Milan since midnight, turning the asphalt into slick, oil-slicked glass that mirrored the neon hum of the city’s financial district.I sat in the back, my laptop open across my knees, its blue light throwing sharp angles over the interior trim. Opposite me, Marcus—my chief lieutenant and the only man alive who knew how close I had come to losing my mind over the last three years—was silently reviewing a stack of encrypted traffic reports.The vehicle slowed as we reached the perimeter of the Moretti estate’s private lane.Marcus’s phone buzzed once. He answered it on the second ring, speaking in low, clipped monosyllables that barely carried over the hum of the engine.I didn't look up from my screen, but my fingers froze over the keyboard.When Marcus ended the call, he didn't immediately speak. He took a slow breath, adjusting his dark tie.“Report,” I said flatly.“It’s coming from the
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