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Chapter 56: The Ghost of Aureliano
Última actualización:
2026-03-13 04:29:06
Último capítulo
The Vitale Brothers Ruined Me, Then Made Me Their Queen Chapter 61: The Waiting Room
The hospital smells of bleach and old pain.It is a specific, chemical scent that burns the inside of my nose, trying to mask the underlying odor of sickness and fear. But it can't mask the smell on me.I smell like copper. I smell like iron. I smell like Ciro.I am sitting on a plastic chair in the private waiting area of the Santa Lucia Hospital. It is a sterile box with white walls and flickering fluorescent lights that hum with a headache-inducing frequency. Bzzzzz.My hands are in my lap. They are stained red. The blood has dried, turning brown and flaky in the creases of my knuckles. It is under my fingernails. It has soaked into the knees of my jeans where I knelt on the crypt floor.I stare at my hands.That’s Ciro, I think. That’s his life on my skin.I don't wash it off. I can't. It feels like the only thing keeping him alive. As long as his blood is on me, he isn't gone.The double doors at the end of the corridor burst open.Bang.Two men storm in.Aureliano leads. He is s
The Vitale Brothers Ruined Me, Then Made Me Their Queen Chapter 60: The Human Shield
The gunshot is deafening.BANG.It echoes off the stone walls of the crypt, a sound so loud it erases everything else. The drip of water. My own heartbeat. The scream building in my throat.I flinch. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the impact. Waiting for the burn of the bullet tearing through my skull.But the pain doesn't come.Instead, something warm and wet splashes across my face.And then, a heavy weight slams into me.I open my eyes.The assassin is staggering backward. His gun is still raised, smoke curling from the barrel. But he isn't looking at me. He is looking at the man who just stepped out of the shadows.Ciro.The Enforcer stands between us. He didn't shoot. He didn't draw a weapon.He jumped.He threw himself into the path of the bullet meant for me.He stands there for a second, swaying slightly. He looks like a statue carved from granite, immovable and eternal.Then, a red flower blooms on his chest. Right over his heart.It spreads fast, soaking through his bla
The Vitale Brothers Ruined Me, Then Made Me Their Queen Chapter 59: Sanctuary Breached
The silence of the crypt breaks.Not with a whisper. Not with a footstep.With a crash.The heavy wooden doors at the top of the stairs fly open, hitting the stone walls with a violence that shakes dust from the ceiling.Boom.The sound echoes in the small, enclosed space like a bomb going off. My heart slams against my ribs, a frantic bird trying to break free of its cage.Thump-thump. Thump-thump.I scramble backward. My boots scrabble on the slick stone floor. My back hits the side of the sarcophagus. The cold marble bites into my spine through my thin t-shirt.I am trapped.A figure descends the stairs.He moves with a terrifying, lethal efficiency. He doesn't stumble in the dark. He doesn't hesitate.He is dressed in black tactical gear—pants, vest, boots. Silent. Professional. A face covered by a black ski mask, leaving only his eyes visible.Cold, dead eyes.This isn't a brother looking for a lost love. This isn't Spadino coming to beg. This isn't Ciro coming to claim.This is
The Vitale Brothers Ruined Me, Then Made Me Their Queen Chapter 58: The Ghost of Spadino
The silence in the crypt is different from the silence in the mansion.In the mansion, silence was a weapon. It was tension. It was the held breath before a scream.Here, silence is dead.It presses against my ears, heavy and cold. There is no hum of air conditioning. No distant crash of the sea. No rhythmic thud of guards patrolling the hallway.Just the drip of water. Plip. Plip.And my own breathing.I am huddled under the sarcophagus, my arms wrapped around my knees. The stone floor is unforgiving. My hip bone aches where it grinds against the granite.I should be relieved. I am free. I am hidden. I have escaped the cage.But freedom feels... lonely.It is a terrifying realization. I spent months praying for solitude. I spent months wishing I could disappear.But now that I have, the emptiness is suffocating.I miss the noise.I miss the chaos of the Vitale house. I miss the sound of Spadino’s lighter clicking. Click. Click. I miss his off-key humming. I miss the way he would burs
The Vitale Brothers Ruined Me, Then Made Me Their Queen Chapter 57: The Ghost of Ciro
The crypt is a freezer.I am curled beneath the sarcophagus, my knees pulled to my chest to conserve heat. The dust is thick, coating my throat, tasting of ancient bone and decay.My leg burns.I skinned my shin on the ladder in the sewer. I didn't feel it then—adrenaline is a powerful anesthetic—but now, in the silence, it throbs.I roll up the leg of my damp jeans.A long, jagged scrape runs from my knee to my ankle. It is caked with sewer grime and dried blood. It looks angry. Infection is already setting up camp.I reach into my bag. I have no first aid kit. I have cash, a phone, and a stolen diary. None of those stop gangrene.I take a bottle of water. I pour a little over the wound.The cold water stings. I hiss through my teeth.Sssst.I rip a strip of fabric from the hem of my t-shirt. I wrap it around my leg. It is a crude bandage, but it will have to do.I lean back against the stone.The pain in my leg is sharp, grounding. It reminds me of other pains. Other bruises.It rem
The Vitale Brothers Ruined Me, Then Made Me Their Queen Chapter 56: The Ghost of Aureliano
The crypt smells of damp stone and centuries of silence.I am huddled in the corner, behind a sarcophagus carved with weeping angels. The stone floor leeches the warmth from my bones, turning my blood to slush. My clothes are still wet from the sewer, heavy and clinging.I shiver. Rat-a-tat-tat. My teeth chatter.I need to sleep. My body is screaming for it. But if I sleep, I might not wake up.I stare into the darkness.The shadows seem to move. They detach themselves from the walls, coalescing into shapes.One shadow is taller than the others. Broader. It wears a suit that fits perfectly, even in the gloom.Aureliano.He isn't real. I know he isn't real. He is a projection of my exhausted mind, a ghost summoned by my fear.But he looks real.He stands by the crypt entrance, leaning against a stone pillar. He is smoking a cigarette. The cherry glows red, illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He looks calm. Clinical."You're cold," he says. His voice echoes in my head, deep and s
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