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Chapter 24: The VIP Ward
Last Updated:
2025-08-09 20:36:36
Latest chapter
When the Fool Heals the Mafia Chapter 45: Shadows of the Past
The study of Musk Mansion glowed dimly with firelight, tall shelves casting shadows that seemed to listen more closely than men. Outside, rain lashed against the windows, but within, only the slow tick of a clock and the crackle of the hearth filled the silence.Don Victor sat in his high-backed chair, a glass of amber wine untouched in his hand. He swirled it absently, not for the taste but as if searching its depths for something lost. His gaze was fixed on the young man before him.Zogo sat rigid, disciplined, though the weight in the air pressed heavily on them both.At last, Don Victor spoke his voice low, worn by years and secrets.“You see, Amara never had the luxury of becoming what others might have wished for her. Life stripped her of that choice early on. Perhaps you already know… her parents were taken from her in a single night. A car accident, or so the papers claimed. But I was there, Zogo. I heard the truth others refused to face.”The firelight carved his face into ha
When the Fool Heals the Mafia Chapter 44: In the Measure of Loyalty
The dining hall of the Musk estate was filled with warmth and shadow. Crystal chandeliers glowed softly above, like stars trapped in glass. Heavy curtains shut out the city, leaving only firelights and the gleam of polished silver to mark the evening. The smell of lemon oil lingered on the paneled walls, mingling with richer scents from the kitchen roast meat, aged wine, and spices.At the head of the long table sat Don Victor. He had not risen to greet Zogo, but his presence carried the weight of command. His fingers tapped slowly against the carved armrest of his chair, the glow from the flames catching the sharp lines of his seventy-year-old face. Age had not softened him……. His gaze was dark, steady, and heavy with power.The pause stretched. To most men it would have been unbearable. Here, it was a weapon.At last, Don Victor spoke. His voice was calm, measured, but every word cut with precision.“Tell me, Zogo… when a man must choose between saving himself or protecting those wh
When the Fool Heals the Mafia Chapter 43:
The stone corridors of the temple were cool and hushed, sunlight filtering through narrow windows and painting long strips of gold across the polished floor. The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the sharper fragrance of herbs drying in clay bowls by the walls.Elira sat propped on a cushioned chair near the open lattice, her posture fragile yet dignified. A shawl was drawn over her shoulders, though she still shivered slightly against the morning air. Her breathing was steady but shallow, each rise and fall of her chest carrying the weight of age and illness. Still, her hands rested gracefully in her lap, as though even frailty could not undo the poise, she had carried all her life.The door creaked softly as Dr. Rafael entered, carrying a small bundle of fresh herbs and a vial of tincture. He moved with the quiet assurance of one long accustomed to caring for the temple’s sickness, but his gaze lingered on Elira a moment longer than usual half in concern, hal
When the Fool Heals the Mafia Chapter 42:
The study smelled faintly of lemon, the kind of subtle richness Amara had always liked. It was past midnight, and the silence in the estate felt heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside the tall windows.On her desk sat the folder. A slim thing cream cover, no markings but its presence felt like a boulder pressing down on her chest. She had gone about her day pretending it wasn’t there, taking tea with Cristy, pacing across the balcony, staring out at the garden with deliberate emptiness in her eyes. But eventually, silence had a way of cornering her.Amara rose slowly from her chair, her silk robe swaying around her legs as though urging her forward. Her fingers brushed against the folder, lingering there for a moment. She closed her eyes briefly before pulling it open.The handwriting inside was precise, neat…...the work of July, her spy within Musk Company. Once, he was a respected board director, managing finances with quite efficiency. When others turned against he
When the Fool Heals the Mafia Chapter 41: The Weight of Tomorrow
Amara lingered at the threshold for a moment, her grandfather’s words echoing in her chest like a heavy toll of a bell. His hand had trembled against hers, his eyes sharp despite the years that weighed on them. He was worried not only about her safety, but about Zogo……. Does he truly have good intentions? Can he protect you when the storm comes? His doubt gnawed at her even though she tried to mask her unease.When the heavy wooden door closed softly behind her, the faint smile she had forced for her grandfather faded away. The corridor stretched long and quiet, its shadows swallowing the fragile courage she had carried inside the study. Her steps slowed, burdened by the weight of their conversation, until she reached the staircase leading toward her wing of the estate. There, her composure cracked. Her lips pressed into a thin, worried line as the questions rose inside her like a restless tide.Grandfather sees things others don’t. What if he’s right? What if Zogo is too distant… too
When the Fool Heals the Mafia Chapter 40: The Weight of a Signature
Amara walked slowly down the corridor of the Musk estate, her footsteps hushed against the polished floor. The grand hallways, lined with oil paintings and heavy curtains, seemed to press in on her, whispering of history and responsibility. At the end stood her grandfather’s study room. The heavy wooden door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm lamplight spilling into the hall.Cristy followed closely behind, holding a neat folder against her chest. Just before Amara reached the door, Cristy leaned closer and slipped a folded paper into her hand.“Here it is, Young Miss,” Cristy whispered.Amara looked down at the marriage certificate, her fingers tightening around it for a moment. Then she gave a small nod, her expression calm.“Thank you, Cristy.”She pushed the door open and stepped inside.The study smelled faintly of old books and herbal incense. Her grandfather sat behind the wide mahogany desk, his tall chair swallowing his thin frame. Though he still held the posture of a man w
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