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Chapter 146
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2026-01-24 00:00:03
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OWNED BY THE ENEMY: His Dark Claim Chapter 153
Victor’s POV After my father spoke to me in his study—after he told me what he believed La Camorra was about to do to him—they sent for him again. That same night, he left. It had been days now. Days without a word. Days without a message. Days without even the illusion that he was coming back. The first sign was the guards. Men La Camorra had assigned to protect him—men who had stood at the gates for as long as I could remember—were quietly withdrawn. No explanation. No farewell. One morning, I woke up and they were simply gone, as if they had never existed. Yesterday was worse. Men from La Camorra arrived unannounced. They didn’t knock. They didn’t ask. They forced their way into my father’s study while I stood there with a handful of servants, all of us useless against authority that didn’t need to raise its voice to be obeyed. “This is an order from La Camorra,” one of them said when I tried to stop them. I was pushed aside. So were the servants. We were told to stay o
OWNED BY THE ENEMY: His Dark Claim Chapter 152
Alessandro’s POV The days in Moscow moved faster than I ever thought they would. Venera had been barely a week old when we arrived—small, fragile, always curled against Amara’s chest—while Amara herself couldn’t even stand without help. Back then, everything felt uncertain, like walking through fog without knowing what waited ahead. Now, time had rewritten our reality. Venera had cut her first tiny teeth, her smiles coming quicker, brighter, the sound of her laughter filling spaces I never knew were empty. She was healthy, strong, and alive in a way that brought effortless joy to both of us. Sometimes I caught myself just staring at her, overwhelmed by how something so small could carry so much light. Amara, too, had changed. She still wasn’t strong enough to walk properly, not yet—but she could tiptoe. It wasn’t much to anyone else, but to me, it felt like a miracle unfolding in slow motion. Every careful step she took, every determined breath she held while practicing,
OWNED BY THE ENEMY: His Dark Claim Chapter 151
Victor’s POV I had barely closed my eyes when the knock came. Not a polite knock. Not hesitant. Urgent. I groaned softly and turned my face into the pillow, exhaustion weighing heavily on my body. The night had drained me—every second of waiting, every unanswered question. I was just beginning to slip into sleep when the servant’s voice cut through the room. “Signor Victor… your father is asking for you.” I exhaled sharply. “Tell him I’ll see him when I wake up,” I muttered, my voice rough. “I didn’t sleep all night.” There was a pause. Then the servant spoke again, quieter this time, but firmer. “He said it is an emergency.” That word snapped me fully awake. I pushed myself upright, rubbing my face. “Did anyone tell him I waited all night?” I asked. “No, Signore,” she replied. “No one spoke to Don Vittorio. He only said he must see you immediately.” My jaw tightened. So my father had returned without a word. No explanation. No acknowledgment of his absence.
OWNED BY THE ENEMY: His Dark Claim Chapter 150
Victor’s POV Ever since the last La Camorra meeting, the thought had refused to leave my mind—that Alessandro’s brother might be closer than everyone believed. The men had spoken loosely, carelessly, as if it were common knowledge, yet none of them had offered proof. I wasn’t sure what to believe, but instinct told me one thing: rumors in La Camorra never came from nothing. There were too many unanswered questions. Why had Alessandro and his brother grown so distant? I knew the basics—that they had different mothers, that neither of them had been raised by those women, that their father had kept both boys under his roof. As children, none of that had mattered. They had been inseparable then, running through halls too big for their bodies, playing with the other Don’s children—Rocco, Rebecca, Lorenzo, Laura. Ginevra had never been part of those games. Back then, power meant nothing to us; our fathers ruled, and we were free to be boys. But time had a way of scattering people. Some
OWNED BY THE ENEMY: His Dark Claim Chapter 149
Amara’s POV It had been three months already since we arrived in Moscow, and I often wondered how time could move so fast and yet feel so gentle at the same time. I sat in the hospital garden with Alessandro beside me, watching him lift baby Venera into the air, pretending to toss her up just enough to make the baby squeal with laughter. He teased her softly, whispering nonsense words, his face relaxed in a way I had rarely seen before. The nanny stood a few steps away, attentive but unobtrusive, ready to take the baby if Alessandro grew tired—though I knew he never did. Holding Venera seemed to give him energy rather than take it. Every morning, I woke up to this version of him. A father is fully present. A man undone in the best way by a tiny human who wrapped her fingers around his without knowing the kind of power she held. I could see it clearly now—this was a bond Alessandro never had growing up. And in many ways, it was one I never had either. Yet here we were, building so
OWNED BY THE ENEMY: His Dark Claim Chapter 148
Victor’s POV Today was La Camorra’s meeting. It happened once every three months—the kind of gathering that demanded the presence of every Don, every heir, every man who believed power answered to his name. Even Don Epifanio would be there, despite his open dislike for these meetings. Sometimes I wondered if Epifanio had been forced into La Camorra the same way fate had forced me into my own bloodline. Every time I looked at him, I saw it clearly written on the man’s face: I do not belong here. And more than once, I had wished Don Epifanio were my father. If that were the case, power would have come easily. Cleanly. Epifanio’s son, Lorenzo, had no interest in La Camorra, no hunger, no ambition. Taking his place would have been effortless. Unlike my own situation—bound to a father who clung to authority without earning it, a man who showed up only for profits and vanished when responsibility called. Don Epifanio attended meetings once every three months. Don Vittorio, my father,
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