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หน้าหลัก / Mafia / The king of Ashes / Chapter Sixty-Sixty: The Hidden Queen

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Chapter Sixty-Sixty: The Hidden Queen

ผู้เขียน: Zainab
last update วันที่เผยแพร่: 2025-11-30 16:09:15

(Isabella’s POV)

I stared at the drone footage on the screen, my mind refusing to accept what my eyes were seeing. Marcus Thorne. The Swiss banker. The man whose reputation we had just set on fire. He was not supposed to be here, in the middle of nowhere in Nebraska, shaking hands with the ghost who had betrayed my family.

The pieces of the puzzle in my head shifted, and a new, terrible picture began to form. Thorne was not just a tool that Bianchi used. He was a willing partner. A high-l
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  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Six : The King, The Queen, and The Heir (2)

    And then, the door clicked, and it slowly, slowly opened. Isabella stood there, wrapped in her white, silk robe, her dark hair a beautiful, messy tangle around her shoulders. She was pale, yes, she was definitely pale, but her eyes… her beautiful, honey-gold eyes were shining, shining with a light so bright, so powerful, that it lit up the entire, dark hallway, and she was crying, but it was not tears of sadness, it was tears of a profound, earth-shattering joy. She was holding something in her hand, a small, white plastic stick, and she held it out to me, her hand shaking so hard she could barely keep it steady. I just stared at it, my mind completely blank, frozen, I did not understand. My world was guns, and ledgers, and blood, I had no idea what this was, this small, strange object, and my mind, still trapped in the horror of the hospital, could only see it as a threat. “Angel, what is it?” I asked, my voice a desperate, pleading thing, “What’s wrong? Tell me, what do I ne

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five : The King, The Queen, and The Heir

    (Alessandro’s POV) Our time in Paris was not a honeymoon, it was a rebirth, a beautiful, sun-drenched, and quiet dream where we were not a king and a queen, but just a husband and a wife. We walked the cobblestone streets hand-in-hand, we ate pastries at tiny, sidewalk cafes, we made love in the silver moonlight with the Eiffel Tower as our witness, and for two perfect, stolen weeks, the world, with all its blood, and its ghosts, and its ashes, simply did not exist. We were just Alessandro and Isabella, a man and a woman so deeply, so completely, and so normally in love that it felt like the greatest victory of my life. But the dream, as beautiful as it was, had to end, because the real world was waiting, our kingdom was waiting. On our last morning, I held her on the terrace, our bodies wrapped together, and we watched the sun rise over the city one last time, the sky a beautiful, soft painting of pink and gold. “I don't want to leave,” she whispered against my chest, her voic

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Four : A River of Light

    (Alessandro’s POV) Paris was not a city, it was a dream, a beautiful, soft, and golden haze that had wrapped itself around us, and the days had melted into a perfect, timeless blur. We had been here for a week, but it felt like a single, wonderful, endless day, a life lived entirely in silk sheets, and quiet, sun-drenched cafes, and the constant, intoxicating taste of Isabella’s lips. We had barely left the penthouse, for we were lost, lost in each other, and lost in the new, beautiful, and powerful purpose we had found. We were trying for a family, a real one, a new beginning forged from the ashes of our past, and this simple, profound goal had changed everything, it made the air brighter, the food richer, and the nights, the nights were a sacred, endless, and breathtaking exploration of the woman who was my wife. I was watching her, my queen, as she stood on our private terrace, the setting sun painting her in shades of rose and gold, the city spread out before her like a gift

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Fifty- Three : A New Beginning ( 2)

    I woke to the feeling of being watched, that same soft, warm, and heavy sensation, and I knew, even before I opened my eyes, that he was looking at me. The Parisian morning was a soft, gray light, filtering through the silk curtains, and the world felt quiet, still, perfect. I turned my head, my hair a messy, dark tangle on the expensive, white pillows, and I found his golden eyes, already awake, already focused, his gaze so intense it felt like a physical touch. He smiled, a slow, sleepy, and utterly beautiful smile that was just for me. “Good morning, my wife,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough rumble from sleep. “Good morning, my husband,” I whispered back, my voice shy, and he leaned in, his kiss slow, and deep, and lazy, a kiss that tasted of sleep, and of us. “I could get used to this,” I murmured against his lips. “I plan on making sure you do,” he growled, but he didn't move away, he just held me, his gaze serious, loving. I traced the dark, intricate tattoos

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Fifty- Two : A New Beginning

    (Isabella’s POV) The Parisian night was cool and clear, the city a river of glittering lights below our penthouse, and the Eiffel Tower stood like a diamond-studded sentinel, a private monument just for us, its light spilling into the dark, quiet room. We were curled together on a sofa so large and soft it felt like a cloud, a cashmere blanket draped over our legs, and the soft, flickering light of an old, black-and-white movie played on the wall. It was a silly, romantic film, one I had picked, about a princess who ran away, and Alessandro, my dark, dangerous king, was watching it with me, his attention absolute, but I knew, I just knew, he was not watching the screen. I could feel the weight of his gaze, a warm, possessive, and endlessly loving touch, and I turned my head, my cheek resting on his chest, "You're not even watching the movie, are you?" His chest rumbled beneath my ear with a low, soft laugh, and his arms, which were wrapped securely around me, tightened, pull

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Fifty one : A Taste of Paris

    (Isabella’s POV) I woke up slowly, the sun was a warm, heavy gold streaming through the massive windows of the penthouse, and the sheets felt like pure, liquid silk against my skin. My body was a delicious, heavy ache, a beautiful, lingering reminder of the night before, of the way my husband, my husband, had worshipped me, and I felt a blush climb my neck just thinking about it, but I was sated, I was safe, and for the first time in my entire, terrified life, I was completely, and utterly, at peace. I turned my head on the pillow, and the first thing I saw, the very first thing, was Alessandro, already awake, propped up on one elbow, just watching me. His dark hair was a mess, falling over his forehead, and his golden eyes, usually so sharp and dangerous, so full of the king, were now soft, warm, and full of a love so intense it still made my heart stop. “Good morning, my wife,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough rumble from sleep. “Good morning, my husband,” I whispered

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen: The Sins of the Father

    (Alessandro’s POV) The sharp, ugly crack of the slap echoed in the vast, silent penthouse, it felt louder than a gunshot, more violent than any explosion I had ever witnessed. Isabella stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek, but her beautiful, happy face was not one of confusion, it was

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Seventh : The Morning of the Vow

    (Alessandro’s POV) I woke to the soft, golden light of dawn and a profound, unnerving silence, the space beside me in the bed was empty. For a single, heart-stopping second, the old, familiar panic seized me. The wars, the ghosts, the constant, gnawing fear of loss it all came rushing back

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen : One Last Night

    (Alessandro’s POV) I held her in the darkness, my confession of being "terrified" of this happiness still hanging in the air. She rose up, her beautiful face illuminated by the moonlight, and placed her hand on my heart. “It is not fragile, Alessandro,” she said, her voice a firm, unshakab

  • The king of Ashes    Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen: The Calm Before the Vow

    (Alessandro’s POV) The first morning of our new world was quiet. I woke with the sun, a habit I could not break, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I did not wake with a jolt of anxiety, my hand reaching for a gun that wasn't there. There was only the soft, warm weight of

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