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Chapter 18 — The Snake at the Table
Tanggal publikasi:
2026-07-23 20:46:05
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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
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
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