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홈 / Romance / The heart Beneath the Thorn / In Comes the Lady with the Alligator Purse

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In Comes the Lady with the Alligator Purse

작가: Mythical E.Beanie
last update 최신 업데이트: 2025-06-27 02:49:04

The storm had passed, but the atmosphere inside the mansion was still strange—quiet in a way that didn’t feel like peace.

Emilia stirred her tea slowly, watching the swirling cream dissolve into amber. Max sat across from her, reading the paper in his robe, one leg crossed, hair slightly mussed in a way that made him look more like a man than the myth the world knew.

She hadn’t brought up the nightmare again. Not yet.

He hadn’t either.

But something hung between them—unspoken. Heavy.

The morning had the fragile weight of porcelain—one wrong movement, and everything could shatter.

Just as Max reached for his orange juice, a sharp knock echoed through the mansion, followed by the chime of the front bell. Loud. Demanding.

Max lowered his glass.

Emilia looked up. “Expecting someone?”

He shook his head slowly. “No one.”

Another knock—this time more aggressive, echoing like a crack of thunder across the marble halls.

“I’ll get it,” Emilia said, standing and tightening her robe around her.

B
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  • The heart Beneath the Thorn    Epilogue

    Marco didn’t believe in fate.Not until the moment he ran a red light on his Ducati and nearly collided with a girl in stilettos sprinting full speed into traffic.She didn’t scream. Didn’t flinch. Just leapt sideways like a ballerina raised on gunpowder, hair whipping across her face, and landed with a graceful spin straight onto the back of his bike.“Drive,” she commanded, breathless but in control.Behind her, two black SUVs came screeching around the corner like hell had released its hounds.Marco didn’t ask questions.He gritted his jaw, twisted the throttle, and tore down the boulevard like the devil himself rode pillion. The engine roared beneath them, tires hissing across rain-slick asphalt as horns blared and headlights sliced through the stormy dusk. The girl clung to him like she’d done this before—like chaos was home and motorcycles were made for queens.They zipped through narrow alleys, cutting between delivery trucks and dumpsters, sliding dangerously close to parked c

  • The heart Beneath the Thorn    Conclusion

    The rain danced gently against the wide glass windows of the Carter estate, where time seemed to slow and love aged like fine wine. Inside a cozy reading nook nestled between two tall bookshelves, Emilia sat with a well-worn copy of Beauty and the Beast in her lap. Her long, dark hair was loosely tied back, and her reading glasses balanced at the tip of her nose as her voice carried the words like an old melody.“‘…And as she whispered ‘I love you,’ the Beast transformed into a prince, his curse undone by the power of true love.’”Emilio groaned and flopped dramatically against the velvet cushions beside her. He was eight, full of fire and sarcasm, with his father’s striking green eyes and his mother’s dimpled smile. “Ugh, that’s so cheesy, Mama.”“Yeah,” Maxine chimed in from the floor where she was coloring. She was only five, but already a sassy whirlwind of energy wrapped in curls and glitter. “Beasts don’t turn into princes. That’s just… rubish.”“Rubbish,” Emilia corrected gentl

  • The heart Beneath the Thorn    The Heart Beneath the Thorn

    The garden had changed. The feel was different.Where once only ivy clung and faded roses drooped, now color spilled in every direction—red, white, blush, and gold. Roses opened their velvet mouths to the sky. Dew clung to petals like diamonds, catching the last breath of sunlight. A fountain trickled in the center, its marble edges worn smooth with time, reflecting the wisteria-stained sky above.Birdsong drifted through the air, light as laughter.Florence below was alive, but it felt worlds away. Here, in the rooftop garden above the library where stories slept, time held its breath.Max stood at the edge of the path, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. The breeze tugged at his collar, playing with a loose strand of Emilia’s hair as she stood beside him, staring out at the city she had come to call home.But it wasn’t the skyline she was really seeing.It was him.Him—and everything they’d been.The monster in the hospital bed.The boy who wrote her anonymous letters.Th

  • The heart Beneath the Thorn    Name in the Wind

    The sky over Florence blushed lavender as the sun slipped toward the horizon, casting the rooftop garden in a soft, otherworldly glow.The roses bloomed like secrets—some shy, others bold, curling toward the fading warmth. Ivy clung to marble balustrades, and the scent of rain-kissed petals still clung to the air like perfume. The bells of a nearby cathedral began to toll, low and melodic, echoing through the alleys below.Emilia stood at the garden’s edge, her fingertips grazing the petals of a white rose. She didn’t pluck it. She only touched it, careful and reverent, like someone brushing the memory of a dream.Behind her, Max lingered in stillness—his silhouette half-cast in shadow. His dark coat moved with the wind, his breath visible in the cooling air, but his gaze never left her.It was like watching a vision.And then—softly, quietly—she whispered:“Max.”His name floated across the rooftop like a blessing, like a benediction spoken in the old language of love.He froze.Ever

  • The heart Beneath the Thorn    The Garden Remembers

    The rooftop was quieter now. The rain had long since stopped. A velvet hush had fallen over Florence, as if the city itself were leaning in to listen.Max and Emilia sat side by side on the stone bench nestled between rose bushes, the scent of petals thick in the damp air. His hand still gently cradled hers—her finger wrapped in his handkerchief. The letter he’d given her lay in her lap, the creases smoothed from her shaking fingers.And then, softly, her voice broke the silence.She began to read aloud.“You were always the beauty among my ruin…”Her voice wavered. The words carried differently this time—not just from paper to air, but from memory to heart.With every line she read, something inside her stirred.“You found poetry in my rage.Lullabies in my silence…”Her voice cracked.Suddenly—snap—a flash.Max, in his wheelchair, flinging a spoon across the hospital room.“I said no more oatmeal!”“I said stop acting like a child!”She blinked hard. Her breath caught. The memory wa

  • The heart Beneath the Thorn    Thorns and Vows

    The rain had stopped.Pale light filtered through the library’s grand arched windows, casting golden halos across the marble floor. The rooftop garden now felt like a dream — a place where time had paused and hearts had whispered things they never dared before.But below, in a quiet, empty study room tucked between the 17th-century literature and the Renaissance manuscripts, time resumed.Max stood by the tall window, staring out at Florence’s skyline — domes and steeples rising above centuries of history. He didn’t turn when Emilia entered.She closed the door gently behind her. “You wanted to talk?”He turned, slow and solemn, holding something in his hand.A folded piece of parchment. Old, creased, but carefully preserved.His voice was quiet. “I wrote this after the accident… before I knew if you’d ever speak to me again. I wasn’t going to give it to you.”She took a slow step closer. “Why now?”He met her eyes. “Because I finally believe you’re ready to know how much I broke when

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