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Chapter 16

Auteur: Philipa__
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2024-07-11 03:21:23

JOAN'S POV

Sitting on Lady Irene's bed felt surreal. Yes, you heard that right. After I was done tidying up her room she invited me to sit with her on one of the long couches by the window to have a chat. I was beyond surprised. When she asked me, I had to turn back to make sure I was the one she was talking to.

The lavish feel of the couch and plush pillows screamed luxury. Lady Irene sat beside me. She was talking non-stop, and I tried to focus on her words, not wanting to seem distracted or, worse, disrespectful.

"Have you ever tried these?" Lady Irene held up a tiny, delicate macaron. "They’re from this lovely patisserie in Paris. I just got back yesterday. They taste lovely! Have some"

I managed a small smile, accepting the treat. "Thank you, Lady Irene."

"Oh, please, just Irene," she insisted with a wave of her hand. "We’re not in some ballroom. Besides, formality is so overrated."

I was shocked by her words. Why was Lady Irene, a figure of high society, spending her time with
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    JOAN’S POVIt’s strange how quickly you can go from a nobody to the headline.I used to wake up to the sound of my neighbor’s dog barking or the garbage truck rumbling down the alley. Now, it’s the flash of a camera outside my window or thousand of Instagram notifications. The paparazzi have no mercy. I once caught a man practically hanging from a tree just to get a picture of me sipping coffee in a cafe. The Billionaire’s Bride, they call me. As if my name—Joan—has evaporated into something shinier, more sellable.Inside this mansion, though, it doesn’t feel shiny. It feels... hollow.The chandelier in the entrance hall is worth more than everything I’ve ever owned. My reflection catches in polished marble floors and golden frames too often—I barely recognize myself. The woman with her hair always perfect, lips glossed, and waist cinched in designer fabric isn’t me. At least, not the me I remember.Irene tries. Bless her. She chatters as she helps me choose floral arrangements or tri

  • The Mafia's Contract    Chapter 64

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  • The Mafia's Contract    Chapter 63

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  • The Mafia's Contract    Chapter 62

    DERRICKS’ POVI stood near the balcony, holding a cigar in my hands. I needed it to calm me down.I took a long drag, inhaling deep, letting the nicotine burn its way through my chest. It was the only thing keeping my nerves in check. Antonio had made his threat clear—he would stand against me at the table, and that was not something I could afford. He had a name that carried weight. His father had once been one of the godfathers. That legacy alone made the old men at the table listen to him, respect him. And now, with my seat hanging by a thread, I could not let him turn them against me.I exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the night air. Losing my place wasn’t an option. It was my father’s legacy, something I had bled for, killed for. Everything I had worked for would be undone if the godfathers saw me as weak, as incompetent. I would never get the chance to be the next Don. And Henry, my bastard of a stepbrother, was already waiting like a vulture, ready to take what was mine.W

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