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Chapter 170: Masks of Kindness
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2025-09-13 14:54:04
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Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 171: Whispers Among the Elite
The evening had grown noisily rowdy. There was laughter echoing off marble, tinny violin strains combined with laughter, and waiters moving between tables stacked with trays of champagne. The tryst seemed to glitter with sophistication on the surface. But beneath it—beneath the glint of silver and gold sconces flashing—poison was simmering.Eleanor Blackwood was a painter. One of a bunch of women, her emerald dress catching the light, her jewels flashing at every wrinkle on her chin. Her smile was silky, elegant—but icier than ice. A portrait of the hostess of society.Sit quietly with her friends, she breathed near to quiet, and wonder made hard impressions in their ears."Hear what?" she laughed, her eyes cutting across the distance to Leya, a still, solitary figure. "The girl is making an effort, but in honest good faith—does she really look as if she's the sort of girl who would do something like that? One can bluff only so far."A sapphire woman smiled obligingly. "She is…differe
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 170: Masks of Kindness
Blackwood House rose that evening like a palace beacon. Chandeliers erupted into flames in the ballroom, golden fire consuming marble floors so highly polished they reflected like mirrors, silver-edged tables bending under the amount of crystal glasses, and the four world's best wines. Scent, aged liquor, and rose's darkest scent rolled in compactly controlled waves up the stairs. A night to blind the crème de la crème.Mr. Blackwood led the procession, dashing away in black, a charm mask around his face. His booming voice boomed down the hall, authoritative and commanding as he shook hands to welcome, smiled in the know, leaned forward, and whispered so much that they all felt privileged to be so situated. The kingpin had turned decadent host into an art form, and tonight his performance was nearer to fact than to fact itself. A couple of dozen or so came and went—tuxedoed men with their theme stitchery, the women adorned in diamonds. There was wine, laughter, and secrets sewn like s
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 169: Shadows Converging
The days following Samuel's words did not go quietly, but in hushed tones.The manor itself appeared to be burdened, its walls to grudge. Servants walked with heads dropped, unwilling pace, furtive eyes which shifted in Leya's direction when they could not find the courage to meet her. The mood now altered — anticipatory, strained, with something indistinct yet more real.It was most tangible as she strolled down the corridors. Where once there had been raw mockery and outright hostility, now there was something else: half-concealed calculation. Eleanor's eyes linger half a beat. Vivian's smiles are full of her pouted flattery. Even Samuel, having spoken those unutterable words of "kindness," looks at her with eyes too heavy, too dark, as though already playing something she could not yet see.---Leya curled up in bed each evening around the soft curve of her belly. Candles set into the stone walls illuminated shadows and kept rhythm with her own mechanisms.She addressed her unborn
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 168: Venom in the Dark
Darkness fell over Blackwood Hall in a crushing shroud. The halls were silent, not with serenity — it was the silence that hung thick with pent-up fury.Eleanor could not help but protest. The ringing in her ears of those words spoken by her father went on until she would have screamed. That girl — that abject servant reared out of the ditch of destruction — to be paraded forth as Harrison's bride for their world to gawk at? The prospect seethed like acid in the pit of her stomach.Her steps were quiet, swift, carving through darkness as she rushed to Vivian's door. She didn't knock. She blazed inside, and there sat her aunt by the fire, drinking wine, her face serene but her eyes already aware."She will shame us," Eleanor burned with anger, her voice squeezed with fury. "She will shame this family if we allow Father to continue so.".Vivian sat back in her chair, her gaze upon her niece. The fire played about her face in changing gold and scarlet, lighting upon her smile with sinuou
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 167: The Announcement
The tension was so tight that the air she drew condensed into a thread. Eleanor and Vivian strode the halls like irritated cats, their heel-taps on marble shattering laughter into pieces like glass as they snapped by Leya. .But Leya no longer flinched. No longer ducked over her shoulders. Strided forward with pride, concealing the bared but unmistakable curve of her belly beneath armor. Her defiance was not a shrieking fight but of denials — an unseen war, and the Blackwood sisters accused her of that. It was on one of the hot afternoons when suffocating air filled the manor, just as there had been suppressed anger, that Samuel summoned them to the great hall. The family came back reluctantly. Eleanor stiff-bracing, forced forward chin. Vivian slouching in feigned weariness, pinched, hard eyes. Harrison, muttering nothing, turned his face, hand on the table as if gripping. And Leya — Leya shoved unceremoniously unwelcome, unsent but unwanted. Samuel strode across the room, coat
Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Chapter 166: A Silent Rebellion
Storm nights after supper were drawn to an atypical, leaden silence. Blackwood Manor's great rooms were otherwise drab — marble polished, chandeliers hung with light like icicle fire, and ancestor portraits glared on walls — but something unspoken had been different.It was Leya.She moved differently now. No longer hurrying to fulfill Eleanor's abrupt orders, no longer shrinking under Vivian's scorn. When asked to buff silver or polish marble floors, she would stand rigid and stiff, dark eyes unwavering, hands resting on the quiet round of her belly.Their rigidity frightened them more than disobeying ever frightened."Did you hear me?" Eleanor cried, drumming bejeweled hands on the arm of a velvet chair. "The floors must be cleaned. They are filthy."Leya was in the doorway, apron folded modestly over demurely arranged arms — an apron no longer worn. Her eyes crept hesitantly upwards, her voice flat, almost soothing."I will not clean the floors. I am not a servant."The words had b
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