Se connecterShare
Chapter 139: The Silent Light of the Brother
Dernière mise à jour:
2025-08-31 23:58:45
Latest chapter
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 162: Dinner
The wooden table lay before them like a silverware plate and crystal glass war zone running along its length, all sparkling under the yellow glow of chandeliers. Pheasant roast in hot servings lay on the table, truffle mash in bowls, wine was a deep red fire like Ruby, and the corridor smelled like honeyed bread. Blackwoods dined as they dined, their own fineness-finnes, fineness constructed to conceal poison, fineness to conceal cruelty. Samuel took over the table as king on the throne, Vivian and Eleanor demurely to his right, silks gently rustling against her moves. Harrison sat across from them at dinner, his profile fixed and unyielding, his glass forever half-full, his words concise. And Leya? She moved unannounced, placing down plates behind her, trembling hands trembling as she filled glasses, weighed down by her daughter and by embarrassment. Tonight the silence had been broken. The cacophony of all the noise was turned up high-pitched: the tinny ring of forks on metal pl
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 161: The Breaking Point
There was the roasting pheasant and a wine smell in the hall. The chandeliers spun above, a spin of gold light to velvet drapes and burnished tables of oak. Blackwoods had congregated as they so frequently did—too much, to show, to nourish drama at its best. Leya clung back from borders, an apron wrapped tightly around her pregnant belly, hair slicked smooth back to hide its tangle. She carried trays from the kitchen, silver flashing on her shivering hands. She crept every step carefully, silently, invisibly. She went unseen—it was survival. And never being permitted to see the light did not preclude the violence. "Slower," snarled Eleanor behind the chair, while Leya circumvented the chair. "In good faith, you resemble a donkey with sacks of grain bound on your back, not a servant in a decent home." There was an outburst of laughter that circulated around the table, and Vivian's cold winter's laughter blended with the others' deeper ones. Leya did not look up but only kept go
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 160: A Flicker of Fire
Days plodded one after another in orderly succession like welts on a sensitive complexion. Light slashed through Blackwood Hall's high, vaulted windows, but the sun meant nothing to Leya. It was a summons to another day of toil, another day's scornful sneering.She ironed, hefted, swept, bent her back to the rhythm of their commands until. She had no idea where her body stopped and whoa did. And yet, despite the screeching muscles and gagging breath, because to. Because to fall would be more laughter, more venom from the mouth of Eleanor, more of Vivian's disapproving glares.Late, when at last the Hall was still, she folded into her own, one of the singles, fingers wrapped around her belly. Her child curled within her—stroking touches, wingbeats thudding deep in the curve of her body. It brought tears. She sang her mother's lullabies to it, river songs and wind songs, promises sung.Don't listen to them," she breathed. "You're mine. You're my light."With each stanza, though, a madde
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 159: The Cracks Within
Blackwood Hall days now came in dribs and drabs like prison bars, one after the other, every single one of them suffocating Leya until her chest no longer had space in the room to breathe.Weeks after Harrison's night when he'd pulled her out into the public eye in the eyes of the family and embarrassed her — weeks of people whispering about her in their own company like a fog, of dropping her off everywhere, of work that sucked the soul out of her that led on as "duty."If ever she had imagined that marriage to Harrison was a key to respectability, she had no such visions now. She was not mistress here. She was a servant — scapegoat—fragile glass whose value lay only in how much she could take before shattering.And she was shattering.Increases had preceded her. She got up before the fifth bell tolled, shivering on icicled stone floors, stacking coal upon fires on which Eleanor never warmed and scrubbing stairs Vivian later remembered as "dusty." She carried trays so laden that her
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 158: Shattered Hope (Leya's POV)
The study door slammed behind her with a ringing clang, one that rang too long in her ears, Leya stood suspended in the hallway, creasing apron pleats between shaking hands, heart hammering out of kilter with chaos. She had approached him — Harrison's father, the patriarch, the one and only man she had thought might have some spark of decency buried in the granite of his features.And he had given her nothing.Nothing.His eyes had followed her with the force of a heavier verdict, a chill as frigid as the stone under her. No blow, no gross laughter — but silence. And that was worse.Her throat tightened as she ran along the corridor, wall lamps skittering around her wickedly like evil goblins. Blackwood Hall loomed above, every step on the giant rugs pulling her further into its pit.She wished to scream. She wished to weep. But her mother's words came back to her again, words that she had held on to in her worst moments:"Courage is not in the shout, child. It's in silence never viol
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 157: The Patriarch (continued)
The house remained overnight, slicing through all clefts with blade-edged, hard bone, light above shadow. Samuel Blackwood had his study, a study redolent with the scent of old leather, cigar smoke, and the iron smell, reminding him of things forgotten. Walls lined with shelves of books, book covers remembered long ago, more trophies than books, bearing witness to a string never sagging, never broken.A single smoldering lamp on his desk, amber liquid dripping on paper and ledgers. Samuel sat back in his chair, the glass of whiskey between the tip and the ball of his thumb and index finger. He rocked it gently back and forth, not to consume it, but to watch the amber liquid trickle like flame in a container.Leya thought she lived too fast.He remembered the face — white, trembling, obstinate — because she had half-knelt-fallen on his study floor. She had crawled forward onto herself, her voice broken as she pleaded not for herself but for the child. His granddaughter had kept insisti
Vous vous intéresseriez aussi à
The Light In His Dark
Kjess116.2K VuesItalian Men
Sunshine106.8K VuesChosen By The Mafia
Nina Daniel94.7K VuesLove Slave to the Mafia Boss's Passion
Realfantasies324.5K VuesMafia's Contract Wife: A Crazy Chemistry
Authoress Lams4.7K VuesSinful obsession
Preshy367 VuesThe Mafia's Captive Doctor
Tassi Blake417 VuesTwisted Deception
Bella Ade484 Vues
