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Chapter 187: A Door to Freedom

Penulis: Emel Emerald
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-09-19 22:17:04

It inched in on its weak, shy light. The sort which never really manages to make it past the floor before it's gone, like it is as afraid of the world that it has to encounter as the world of it is. It inched into the black cloak of night with soft gray and pink edges.

Her legs ache from walking, her body bruised by the pain of not only her weight, but weight-bearin' pain of her sorrow. Step by step a question: Was she doing this? Should she be doing this? And yet here she was, walking down an unfamiliar road, with nothing in her marrow but weariness and an innocent child's heart to spur her on to the why she walked.

And then—

"Leya!"

Her cry ripped the stillness.

She spun about, gasp knotted in her breast.

Shayla.

Her sister skidded around the curve of the road, cloak streaming behind her, hair pulled back and wind-tossed, cheeks red, rosy pink-red, face smeared with wet, but eyes aflame, brazenly staring into Leya's. When at last she arrived close enough to her sister, she said not
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  • Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance    Chapter 187: A Door to Freedom

    It inched in on its weak, shy light. The sort which never really manages to make it past the floor before it's gone, like it is as afraid of the world that it has to encounter as the world of it is. It inched into the black cloak of night with soft gray and pink edges.Her legs ache from walking, her body bruised by the pain of not only her weight, but weight-bearin' pain of her sorrow. Step by step a question: Was she doing this? Should she be doing this? And yet here she was, walking down an unfamiliar road, with nothing in her marrow but weariness and an innocent child's heart to spur her on to the why she walked.And then—"Leya!"Her cry ripped the stillness.She spun about, gasp knotted in her breast.Shayla.Her sister skidded around the curve of the road, cloak streaming behind her, hair pulled back and wind-tossed, cheeks red, rosy pink-red, face smeared with wet, but eyes aflame, brazenly staring into Leya's. When at last she arrived close enough to her sister, she said not

  • Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance    Chapter 186: Penniless Bride's Ramblings

    They had a path before them, a strip of stone and earth that bent into blackness. Knuckles pulled stone and earth, bones creaking with every step, sore, tired of walking, tired of aching. The pack jarred against her shoulder, thudding arms, but she didn't fall.The wind blustered and seared, its cold biting into the stink of meat, but near heaven itself from the clammy heat of Blackwood Hall. She swallowed the air in great ravenous gulps and with each gobbling gasp there was tug-of-war between pain and freedom.She passed before the gates for the first time—not as the serving maid bearing trays, not as the wife initiating adultery on her train, but as one who had renounced all.And still, the manor remained.---The faces first.Vivian's sadistic-lipped smile, curving with every word pouring out like daggers. Eleanor's maniacal laugh, ringing in her mind like broken glass. Samuel's cold voice, every sentence a noose tightened around her neck.And Harrison.His smile. His laugh was wove

  • Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance    Chapter 185: Tears at Night

    Outside Blackwood gates, the world was tough. It was big, black, and silent — the sort of silence that pressed against ears until it grumbled. No crystal. No chandeliers. No violins. No crystal laughter, cut like knives. Just the fretful susurration of wind in leaves and the dry crunch of gravel beneath Leya's feet. For the first time in months, she was by herself. No gold eyes looking back at her from artfully crafted environments, no toxic smiles breaking up behind crystal goblets of champagne, no fingers clenching at phantom strings at her wrists. She was free. And freedom wasn't a taste of victory. It was a taste of loss. Her feet lagged behind, every step an awkward struggle. Her dress remained clinging wet and sour to her skin, cream and wine stains stiff with modesty. The night breeze sliced against her, nipped more keenly with every slash of wind. She clutched her bag around herself as if to warm her, to protect her from remembering, from yearning. Her op

  • Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance    Chapter 184: The Back Gate

    There was life in the mansion. There boomed laughter down velvet-draped corridors, clinking glass, and the fierce, screaming gall of violins. Blackwood Hall lived like a duchess and paid scant attention to the tempest that raged in its belly.Down in the cellar, the wolves howled on at dinner. In the bedchambers upstairs, two sisters crept, their hearts thundering more wildly than music.Shayla went first. Bare feet but sure steps, rustling petticoats across frosty marble. Every echo with the warning voice, every flicker of light like the watchful eye ready to spring. She sprang at her shadow in the tall panes, believing it was Samuel's eye.Behind her trailed Leya. She wrapped her duffel bag around her as a shield, Her dirty, tattered dress, with the stench of shame clinging to it, clung gamely to her ankles as every step was its weight, as if it were a chore to move through quicksand. But she did not linger.This time.They walked softly down the falling halls, the dwelling above th

  • Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance    Chapter 183: The Letter

    Dry and dusty was the air, thick with the odor of aged perfume — the trace, lingering remembrance of a life not her own. Open stood the wardrobe, half the life concealed, loose shade between garments racks pulled open like wounds. Flickering low on the desk was a candle, its wavering flame unsure on the paper, on the nakedness of night. Leya hunched over the desk, shoulders bowed in, as if she could wriggle down small enough to slip out. Her fingers dangled over a fresh sheet of paper for an eternity. A quill pen rested between her fingers like a small sharp sword; the inkwell waited patiently like a famished beast. The silence within the room was so dense that it would have been a fist around her throat. How do you put a heart in a bottle and insert it into ink? How do you tell a man who once meant the world to you that his love was not great enough to make you whole? Shayla was in the background of the window, her eyelids red, towel slapping across her face as if it were suppress

  • Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance    Chapter 182: The Packing of the Pieces

    The bedroom stank of silence not the clammy sort which clings to rooms, but the ravenous sort which rages at walls and beats them into submission, choking the lungs until every breath is tight and labored. Trembling silences of violins vibrated through planks beneath, and between them, gusts of sodden laughter. The party raged on, none the worse for what had been torn asunder above. Time had unraveled here. Leya sat on the bed and wrapped herself around her waist with arms like she could fold back in on herself. Her dress clung to her, sticky, wet, sticky, heavy with shame, sour cream, and wine crust on her. Trapped in damp cheeks, all pounded up together in black clods where tears dried and began again. Her eyes were blank and empty, staring at the groundboards as if they could. Perhaps groan open and consume her. Her breast was rising and falling in small tortured gasps, each one a fight. It had not been noise that had echoed inside. Her ears are under. Harrison's laughter. Elea

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