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Chapter 12 — Old Books
publish date:
2026-07-20 17:15:50
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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
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 15 — Salt and Iron
BelaSEBASTIAN HAD left over an hour ago for a late-night council meeting with the Ricaforte lieutenants, leaving two armed guards posted outside the heavy mahogany door of the guest suite.Their muffled, periodic shifts on the hardwood corridor were the only sounds slicing through the suffocating quiet of the penthouse.I sat on the edge of the mattress, my hands folded tightly in my lap, the velvet box resting unopened on the nightstand beside me.My reflection in the mirrored wardrobe across the room looked hollow, almost translucent under the low amber glow of the bedside lamp.The gold rose pendant hung around my neck, resting cold and heavy against my collarbone—a tether pulling me backward through time, unraveling every layer of armor I had painstakingly built during my three years as a ghost in Milan.I leaned my head back against the upholstered headboard and closed my eyes, but sleep was a lu
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 14 — Fragments of Gold
BelaTHE PENTHOUSE was a prison made of glass and polished marble, but the guest bedroom’s walk-in closet was the one place where the air felt still.I spent the late afternoon organizing the clothes Sebastian had provided—stiff silk blouses, tailored trousers, and soft cashmere knits.It was a golden cage, impeccably tailored to keep me visible, managed, and controlled. But behind a row of heavy winter coats, near the back of a cedar drawer that looked as though it hadn't been fully cleared out since the penthouse was built, my fingers caught on something cold and metallic.I pulled my hand back, frowning.Reaching deeper into the dark corner, my fingertips brushed against a small, velvet-lined wooden box. It was unadorned, the lacquer chipped at the edges.My chest tightened with a sudden, unexplainable prickle of dread as I lifted it into the dim closet light.I opened the latch.Inside lay a delicate gold chain, its tiny links catching the light like spun thread. Suspended from the
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 13 — The Echoes We Carry
SebTHE ASH from the fireplace had been cold for three years, but the stench of it still lived in the back of my throat.I sat at my desk, the glow of the desk lamp cutting a sharp arc across the newly unsealed arson diagrams. The local authorities had written it off within forty-eight hours: A faulty generator. An unfortunate casualty of territory crossfire. A tidy conclusion meant to satisfy the syndicates and keep the peace in the north.But the forensics didn't align. The burn patterns on the lower load-bearing pillars of the Dela Costa estate—and later, the identical incendiary marks left on the east wing of the Ricaforte estate three years after we absorbed her line—showed accelerant signatures that didn't match standard fuel.“These bastards…” I muttered under my breath as I read the documents over and over again comparing each details to another.Someone had used a hi
My Sex Slave is an Heiress Chapter 12 — Old Books
BelaTHE SCENT of chlorine and wet stone usually cleared my head, but today the rooftop pool area felt like another interrogation room.I stood by the edge of the deep blue water, the midday heat doing nothing to melt the chill that had settled deep inside my bones since last night. My body still ached with the memory of Sebastian’s touch, a reminder of how easily he could shatter my defenses when fear and adrenaline stripped away my armor.He would have executed them right there on the tiles, I thought, my gaze fixing on the ripples in the blue water. If I hadn't been standing in the crossfire, he wouldn't have just stopped them. He would have erased them from existence.The image of his arrival was burned into the back of my eyelids. I had fought off those men with everything I had—broken stone, elbows, raw survival instinct.But the moment Sebastian stepped out onto that terrace, the atmosphere didn't just shift—it shattered.It wasn't the calm, calculated Don who had pulled that t
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