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Chapter 105: Whispered Thorns
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2025-08-20 00:01:30The living room was gently perfumed with roses, whose petals were inward-turned brown tips. They were no longer lovely, but stood mutely, for to enchant can hide decay.
Vivian reclined on the chaise, dress cascading down her like water, flipping pages of a Paris fashion magazine. Her beaded fingers floated idly through the pages, and it was clear that she wasn't really reading anything specific at all - her eyes strayed more to her own face in the window than to the designs on the dresses and gloves.She waited. For someone — anyone — to let go of the morning's grip on formality.The door groaned open.Eleanor moved in like a professional ghost, no hesitation no knock, She moved in quietly and unobtrusively, as silently as a snake in a grass, as if each step had been practiced and perfected."Eleanor," she answered, her voice as smooth as liquor from a bottle, "you have the talent for dressing up even the dullest hours with flair."
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Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 116
Leya – Midnight SilenceThe house was asleep, or so it pretended.The halls were empty, standing ajar, their emptiness so thick with the weight of it that it would bang shut and strangle the breath. Leya sat on the single bed, broken wrist wrapped in a thick, hand-made bandage she'd re-dyed for herself. The fire refused to extinguish. It beat like a pulse just beneath flesh.She looked down at the mop that'd lain against the wall. Wood was whited, reflecting whatever moon was available from the shutters.> She'd cleaned. She'd obeyed.And Eleanor had ripped at her wounds.Her chest hurt, but no tears came. She smoothed Juliet's note instead, fingers running words by candlelight.> "You didn't deserve that. No matter what anyone says."The soothing words spoken like salve, but they could not wipe away the hurt. They would not slay tomorrow morning's reality when she would have to wake up, come down these stairs, and bow her head again.Unless.Her eyes crossed the hall to Eleanor's roo
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance chapter 115
Leya – The Chores The broom was too heavy for it to be. Each stroke jarred pain down the aching wrist, but she was not yet courageous enough to slacken. Vivian's sour taunts immediately before resonated within her head — her warning that Samuel would hear if she slackened. The threat of households on the streets had been enough to freeze defiance. So she swept. So she mopped. So she stooped until her back was sore in the small of it and her throat was tied up in a bow. Soap misted in the air, and the scent of damp wood. She pressed her lips shut hard, trying to hold back the tired tears. And then there fell across her a shadow. Eleanor. Her dark shape descended the stairs, glass in hand. "You missed a spot," she said, her tone laced with that professional gentleness that stung sharper than a lash. Leya did not move. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the handle of the mop "I'll get it, ma'am." "See that you do." Eleanor's heels clicked on the exquisitely waxe
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 114: Ashes of What Could Have Been
Life and death bounced off the pier that night.Rusting monolithic cranes spanned the pier, one upon another, metal upon metal stacks upon metal. Beyond them, the sea was turbulent with moonlight, wave upon wave a murmur of something ancient, enduring, unsoiled by the blood to be spilled on its beaches.Blackwood boys shot through the black like ghosts, leather jackets, knives tied round their wrists with duct tape, guns cinched round their belts. No bums or greenhorns — Harrison's crew, and Harrison had hardened up the sap in them years before.The Bratva thought they could sneak onto Blackwood property after nightfall and smuggle the drugs on board the freighters. Thought Samuel's son would never so much as catch a whiff.But Harrison waited, smoke curling about his cigarette, boots set on groaning boards.A rifle exploded in the darkness.And then chaos.Russians cried out, rifles jerked back, flames flashed from drums as bullets went wide. Floodlights blazed, full light flashing i
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter – Harrison in the Shadows
The underworld was shadowland—a wisps of stale cigar smoke curling through the air, muffled voices mingling with clinking glasses of whiskey and the acrid odor of blood seeping into cover walls. Harrison Blackwood was at the center of the blackness of the expansive table, his fists thudding out a slow beat upon the wood. The men around him—soldiers, underbosses, lieutenants—sat awaiting him to speak, waiting.Harrison wasn't sleek like mythologized-by-the-media billionaire mogul. No perfectly fitted Armani suit, no silk cravat. Black cotton turtleneck sweater hauled up over the elbows, scar tissue and steel blue webbing on his arms from fights that no one in civilized society even knew he had fought. Cold, dark, unreadable eyes locked on the quivering man who knelt on the sidewalk at his feet.The man was jailed for robbery of the arms shipments—robbery of Blackwood Enterprises, a crime punishable by death."Do you know what I do to thieves in my world?" Harrison spoke in a voice too
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 112
Harrison – The Underground (Same Night)The warehouse vibrated with power — forklifts roaring across blacktop, boxes wailing in pain, men yelling in Russian and English as the men offloaded boxes from the trucks.The air was thick with the smell of oil, seawater, and the tinny metallic scent of blood, The Blackwood's docks were never spotless.Harrison took his place in the center, silent knife through which tempest seethed. Knife still clutched in hand, he had slit the cord on a package a few moments ago and rolled out sheets of tightly creased illegality swathed in plastic sheeting. His men breathed in their rigid positions.The knife was replaced in its scabbard.He offered his hand for his flask, uncorked it with a slow, slothlike motion — but never once looked away from Whitey. Here, everything was important: the way one of the stevedores moved too lightly, unencumbered by responsibilities; the way creaking crate after creaking crate failed to measure up to the bill of lading in
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance chapter 111
Harrison – The Underground (Later That Night) The warehouse never slept. It whined and creaked like some beast left wild in metal and stone. Its top windows whined weakly on dock breaths, surrendering strands of city mist to twist on the floor against the walls. Forklifts wheezed and whined. Men bellowed back and forth across the room, their bellowing ringing in the ringing room. The ring of crowbars and crashing crates on the floor was their drumbeat starting. Harrison walked through it all like a wisp of something better than the rest. Step by step, cautious but unhurried, and still the stir he caused among his men was instant. Spines straightened. Voices fell to a whisper. No one dared stand too near to him. He did not wear a crown. He did not need one. Wind whipped past him. Far into the distance, past the latest ships in from the wharf, floodlights wetted the air with white. A wood crate groaned open to iron tools, their secrets pouring out: offworld bank vault-locked smuggl
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