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Chapter 40 - Cackling Air
Data de publicação:
2026-05-14 04:04:21
Último capítulo
The Captive Heart Chapter 42 — The First Escape
CHIARAI couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this… excited.Not nervous. Not scared. Excited. Real excitement.The black jeans fit perfectly, hugging my legs in a way that made me feel grounded, and the forest green blouse brought out the green color in my eyes. I didn’t know if it was the outfit or the idea of stepping out into the world again, but I felt more like myself than I had in months.Maybe that was the problem.Because this wasn’t supposed to feel normal.And yet, as I brushed the last bit of powder onto my face, I couldn’t stop the small smile forming on my lips.The vanity table looked like something out of a dream. My dream. All my favorite brands and products were neatly arranged, just like I used to keep them at home, foundation, concealer, the gloss I swore by, the perfume I used every day before everything went wrong. Massimo had stocked them all. He remembered everything.The realization made my chest tighten.How did he remember all this? How could he possibly
The Captive Heart Chapter 41 — The Softest Cage
CHIARAIt had been three days since we landed in Naples.Three days since the plane touched down and my world shifted again, quietly, like the sea pulling away from the shore before a wave. I didn’t know what had changed, but I could feel it—subtle, steady, dangerous.Massimo had changed.Or maybe I had.He wasn’t the same man from the island—the one who broke me down until I couldn’t tell night from day, who punished me until I forgot what peace felt like. There was something different in the way he looked at me now… something tender, almost reverent.He was still Massimo—possessive, dominant, terrifying in the way only powerful men could be—but he was also being sweet. Disarmingly so.He hadn’t tried to force himself on me, not once since we arrived. He kissed me sometimes, but never like before—never desperate, never demanding. His lips were slow, soft, full of meaning, the kind of kiss that made your body forget the past and your heart lose its footing. Sometimes his hands would b
The Captive Heart Chapter 40 - Cackling Air
ChiaraThe house seemed to breathe around me, soft light, quiet air, and that faint scent of lilies and polished wood that trailed everywhere we went.Lily.That was her name.It took me a while to remember, but as we stepped deeper into the mansion and her voice floated beside us—warm, lilting and so full of joy—the memory clicked into place. Lily Scallise. My father used to call her “the woman with the summer laugh.”She led us through a corridor lined with arched windows and golden sconces. The marble under my feet was so smooth I almost caught my reflection in it. Every detail looked deliberate—the paintings, the vases of white peonies, the faint hum of hidden music.It was beautiful here.Different from Massimo’s island mansion, which had always felt like a gilded cage.This house felt alive—full of light and color and history.“Come,” Lily said, gesturing eagerly. “You must both be starving. I prepared dinner already, just like you love it. I didn't know Chiara was coming but yo
The Captive Heart Chapter 39 - Another Kind of Prison
CHIARAThe car smelled of leather and silence.We had landed about thirty minutes ago, and I still couldn’t believe how easily he moved through the airport, There were no security lines, no questions, no waiting. The world seemed to bend for him, like it recognized him as someone who didn’t need to obey the same rules as everyone else.Now, we were gliding down a smooth, winding road in a car so luxurious I couldn’t even pronounce its name — a Bentley Bentayga, sleek and obsidian black, its interior stitched in pale cream. Everything inside hummed quietly, from the temperature control to the soft whir of the tires on the asphalt.Massimo sat beside me, one hand resting lazily on my thigh, the other holding his phone. His gaze was locked on the screen, expression unreadable. He typed quickly, decisively — the kind of man who didn’t text, he commanded, even through a screen.I turned away from him and pressed my forehead to the cool glass of the window. The city outside stretched into r
The Captive Heart Chapter 38 — His Captive Heart
“Chiara.”His voice cut through the air like a blade, low and deliberate, the kind that didn’t need to be raised to command obedience.I lifted my head slowly, my body moving as if underwater. The world was a blur — the faint hum of the air conditioner, the muffled footsteps of the guards outside, the slight smell of cigar smoke clinging to him. My gaze met his, and that small, knowing smirk curled on his lips.He didn’t need to say a word. That expression said it all.He knew.He knew I couldn’t escape him.He knew no one could help me.Not the guards, not the police, not even my father, the great Michael LaRosa, whose name once meant protection and power.All of it meant nothing in the presence of Massimo Scallise.“Remember what happened last time you tried to escape?” he asked, his voice lazy and almost bored, like a man discussing the weather.My body went rigid. I did remember. Every breath of that memory had been burned into me — the way the world had gone silent, the sound of
The Captive Heart Chapter 37 - Breaking Chiara
MASSIMOI had told myself I would not underestimate her again.Still, the moment my men found me in the hangar and said there had been “a problem,” something sour and small lodged in my chest. Problems were niggling things — annoyances. This had the wrong name on it. I felt it in the lightness of the air, in the way the sun snagged on the rim of everything and turned ordinary colors into warnings.They led me through the corridor, footsteps measured, faces like statues. My men were efficient, they did not waste words. But one of them, Pietro, couldn’t help the way his jaw twitched. He’d been at my side long enough to know the difference between an accident and a trap.I already knew the kind of trap the world set for me. I had always known it.When I stepped into the hallway leading to the bathrooms, the scene unfurled in slow, perfect detail. A woman who was definitely not Chiara — stood in the middle of the room, voice rising like a shrill bird. Her clothes were the exact same cloth
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