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Chapter 17: When Queens Don't Seize Thrones—They Set Traps
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2025-04-19 11:38:45
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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
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 156: The Patriarch
Samuel Blackwood's workrooms had stretched out longer that evening, as though the house itself knew she shouldn't be there. Every step on the rich Persian rugs was muffled and stifled, but her racing heart was so hollow it resonated off paneled walls.She'd had no bed of her own today, no made bed, no bucket. Just her — shawl tied tightly over her head, stiff and exhausted. Weeks now, she'd endured what no human being ought to have endured: the tray shoved in front of her all day until wrists ache, scrubbing the floor on stone floors when sickness closed up throat, coal and water pails dragged through corridors until back aches.But to the door of the old man only did she go. For life in her so weak — life to keep her alive — she stayed.There creaked the oak door, there were Blackwood coats on it: a crown, a crown without compassion, swords, ravens, swords. A wisp of smoke with the delicate creaking under the door.She knocked once, anxiously."Come in," the voice harshly grated.Low
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 155: The Outsider
The weeks dragged out like lead weights.The servants' bell roused her from restless sleep day after day, rousing Leya with the same earnest prayer wedged in her teeth: let my child live, let my strength endure another day. But strength was being drained from her step by step, with eachinous chore Blackwoods exacted of her.Her own body trembled where she stood, her arms around enormous heaps of cut-crystal glasses. Her lower back hurt from scrubbing with her hands and knees for hours. Her bulging belly before her reminded her with each step that she no longer moved anywhere alone. And to the family, her bulging belly was not life—life was power negotiation.Fifteenth morning, Eleanor summoned her to the drawing room in the east, the drawing room glowed golden when sunlight descended across high windows of glass, and gilded surrounds emanated like light, Eleanor reclined on the velvet chaise, crossed legs neatly, while Vivian stood by the mantel, a creeping figure with hands folded, h
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 154: The Burden
Blackwoods didn't shriek.They didn't assault her, or imprison her. They had something wider, wilder, and kinder than anger.They employed her.Eleanor's laughter flowed down the passages like infection. It trickled through half-open doorways, off plush cushions, from passages where she was spread out like a queen with a blessed-damned crown.One morning recess, skipping on her hand on a ringing silver tray, honeyed musically sweet to rouse interest, was Eleanor's voice."For goodness' sake, little bird, don't leave Blackwood heir on floorboards. The marble marks so easily."Her teacup rang, light as the laughter to boot.Vivian didn't smile. She wasn't loose without. She slammed the book she had been reading shut and glared up at Leya. Those pale blue eyes balanced her like a butcher balances flesh and bone."She is probably busy," Vivian said coldly, lips compressing. "Idle hands are the devil's tools. And make them believe they are something more."Something more.Those words hung
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