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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Eight: Whispers in the kitchen
Last Updated:
2025-09-03 17:18:14
Jhumie_writesThis chapter marks a turning point for Emilia. For the first time, she is actively plotting in secret, stepping out of Lucien’s shadow and taking the first real risk that could define her rise, or her downfall. Her alliance with Rosa is uneasy, sharp edged, and full of unspoken dangers, but it also shows Emilia’s growth into someone who is no longer content to simply endure. Every step she takes now is one closer to becoming the woman who can stand beside, or against, the Mafia Lord.
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two: Into the Dark
The night air at Pier 17 was colder than Emilia expected, the salt heavy wind biting through her coat as if it knew she had no business being here. The waves slapped against the wooden posts, steady and merciless, their rhythm reminding her of a heartbeat, hers, rapid and unsteady.She moved carefully, her shoes quiet against the damp planks. The place smelled of rust and seawater, fish and oil. Cargo crates lined the pier like silent sentinels, shadows stretching long and jagged under the weak glow of the scattered lamps. It felt abandoned, too quiet, too still, like a stage set and waiting.Her fingers clenched tightly around the straps of her bag, where Rosa’s money was tucked inside. Now, standing here in the dark, she wondered if she had been a fool.Every step felt like a trespass. Every shadow looked alive.She kept glancing behind her, the echo of her own footsteps making her jump. The guards at the mansion had been difficult enough to slip past. Rosa’s diversion, the money sl
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Forty-One: The Road to Pier 17
The night air clung to Emilia’s skin like a second shadow. The iron gates of Lucien’s mansion closed behind her with a sound that felt final, like the last line of a vow she hadn’t meant to make. Rosa’s keys were cold in her pocket, and the bundle of bills pressed against her ribs, heavier than gold.For a moment she stood frozen, her heart pounding in her throat. She had never stepped outside these walls without Lucien by her side, without guards trailing at her back. Freedom was not sweet, it was terrifying.The street stretched wide and empty beneath the pale light of the moon. Trees shivered with a midnight breeze, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Emilia pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, lowered her head, and began to walk.Every crunch of gravel beneath her shoes sounded like an alarm bell. Every flicker of movement in the shadows made her stomach knot. She kept expecting Lucien’s voice to cut through the silence, to hear the sharp clap of his shoes on the
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Forty: Through the Garden Gate
The mansion was a fortress. Emilia had always known it, but never until tonight had she felt the walls breathe like prison bars. Every door carried a lock, every corridor carried eyes. Lucien did not build a home; he built an empire’s citadel.Armed men paced the hallways with the discipline of soldiers, their boots striking marble in a steady rhythm. Cameras watched silently from shadowed corners, their tiny red lights like unblinking eyes. Even the gardens were alive with vigilance: guards patrolling the hedges, rifles slung across shoulders, voices low and sharp in the night air.No one left this house without Lucien knowing. Not even her. Especially not her.And yet, here she was. A queen dressed in silence, slipped out of bed as the clock hands trembled past midnight. Pier 17. Alone.Her choice had already been made.A faint smirk tugged Rosa’s mouth, though it never reached her eyes. “Entonces escúchame bien, niña… (Then listen to me well, girl. Out there is no mercy. You falte
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Nine: The Key to Her Escape
Morning came dressed in gold, but to Emilia, it felt like chains. The sunlight spilling through the tall windows mocked her serenity, reminding her how every moment now was borrowed, how every smile was a mask.At breakfast, Lucien sat across from her, black suit tailored to perfection, the kind of man who could silence a room with a look. He hadn’t spoken much, but his eyes had lingered on her too long, sharp as blades, unreadable as smoke. Every time she lifted her teacup, she felt the weight of his gaze drag across her skin, as though he knew she was hiding something.She forced a faint smile, playing her part. She let his hand brush hers across the table, answering softly when addressed, serene as the queen he’d shaped her to be. But inside, her thoughts were a storm.Pier 17. Alone.The message from the burner phone pulsed in her mind like a heartbeat, echoing louder with every passing second.She held her breath when his thumb stroked her knuckles. He leaned close, murmuring, “Y
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Eight: Whispers in the kitchen
The mansion was hushed that night.After dinner, the corridors stretched around Emilia like a labyrinth of polished stone and shadows. Lucien had retreated to his office with his men, voices low, tense with the weight of strategy. Emilia slipped away as though carried by silence itself, her heart drumming against her ribs.She followed the faint scent of spices and bleach, the echo of clinking dishes and running water, until she reached the kitchen.Rosa was there.The woman moved through the room with the command of a general in her war camp. Silver hair pulled into its severe knot, back straight, gestures crisp and final as she directed the younger maids. Rosa didn’t need to raise her voice; authority radiated from her presence. This was her domain, and everyone who entered it knew it.When her sharp eyes lifted and found Emilia in the doorway, something flickered in them — a mixture of calculation and quiet disdain.“Signora,” Rosa said, inclining her head just enough to be polite.
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Seven: The Queen’s in her Mask
The next morning, she wore serenity like a mask.At breakfast, Emilia sat perfectly composed at the long breakfast table, porcelain cup in hand, its rim brushing her lips though she barely tasted the coffee. She nodded when addressed, smiled faintly when Lucien brushed her hand across the table, even reached for her cup of tea with the grace expected of his queen. To anyone looking, she was the picture of calm.But inside, her mind was a storm. A battlefield.Pier 17.The words branded themselves against her skull.Two words. Two coordinates that split her chest open with dread and temptation.How did one reach it? She couldn’t ask Lucien, not without unraveling everything. She couldn’t ask his men either; they would report to him in an instant. Every face in the compound seemed like a wall, hemming her in, keeping her secret pressed like a shard of glass against her ribs.The burner phone, tucked into the hidden pocket of her sleeve, weighed heavier than gold. Heavier than sin.The da
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