บททั้งหมดของ The Mafia Boss's PA: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

I woke up late after spending the night putting Constantine to bed. I missed Sunday lunch with Evan’s and my parents because I overslept, and I felt like crap.Sprawled on my couch with one foot hanging off the edge, I was multitasking—texting Evan and researching the Leoné family.I needed to understand exactly what I was up against. Pretending like everything was normal wouldn't help me get through this. There was clearly something darker and more sinister about this family, and they hid it well.I stumbled upon an article titled, "The Three C’s, or Should They Be Called the Brothers of Chaos Instead?"Scrolling down, I saw a photo of Constantine, his brother Cavalon, and the enigmatic gentleman I met on my second day—Carlisle. He was the second oldest, and he hadn’t mentioned they were brothers.The handle on my apartment door turned, jolting me upright. “April,” Rain called out.I dragged myself off the couch and opened the door. “What happened today?” she asked, stepping inside.

My eyes struggled to adjust to the blinding white light. I tried to move my hand to shield some of it, but my wrist was restrained. As my vision cleared, I realized I was sitting across from Mr. Chen at a cold, metallic desk. My hands were bound tightly, and panic began to settle in."Mr. Chen?" My voice wavered. What the hell was going on?"I do apologize that you’ve been caught up in this," he said, casually placing a knife on the table in front of me, its blade glinting under the light."Wrapped up in what?" I asked groggily, my head still swimming."Don’t play games with me." His voice hardened as he stood, his dark eyes narrowing. "I want to know everything about the spyware C-Tech is developing.""I honestly don’t know what you're talking about," I said, my voice shaky but sincere."Who is developing the software? Who are the lead engineers?" His voice grew more demanding as he leaned in closer, towering over me."I’ve only been there for a week," I blurted out. "I swear, I don’

Constantine insisted I take the week off, and I didn’t argue. The nightmares had stopped, but the guilt? That lingered like a shadow I couldn’t shake. I thought I had processed everything, but every time I closed my eyes, the weight of it pressed down. So, I turned to painting again. It was the only thing that eased the pressure, even if just for a moment.It started simple—a three-dimensional orange from a side profile. But as if something inside me snapped, the brush began to move on its own. Before I knew it, the painting morphed into a face, sharp and unfamiliar, dark and unsettling. I’d never painted anything like it before, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. There was something in this darkness that drew me in, a release I didn’t understand but craved.Then, my phone rang, shattering the trance. I dropped the brush, hands trembling as I wiped them clean. "Hey, honey," Evan’s face lit up the screen."Hey," I forced a smile."Are you painting?" His voice was soft, curious."Yeah... si

Soft, natural light streamed through large windows, illuminating the elegant room. Above, a statement chandelier casted a warm glow, adding a touch of sophistication. The walls were adorned with minimalist artwork, complementing the neutral tones of the room, while a plush rug anchored the space, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere. Potted plants at the corners of the room brought in a touch of nature. The elite mingled with the ease of old money and newer fortunes alike. The men wore tailored tuxedos and suits, their cufflinks catching the light from the chandeliers above, each one polished to a gleaming perfection. They spoke in hushed, confident tones about private jet purchases and distant island getaways, barely acknowledging the waiters who drifted silently by with trays of champagne.The women, draped in silk gowns and adorned with diamond jewelry that could pay for small homes, held themselves with practiced poise. Their conversations floated between rare art collections, ex

After seven torturous hours in the air, the plane finally landed. The descent had been rough—turbulence shaking the cabin—and I was grateful to be back on solid ground. The sun was harsh against the runway as we stepped out, the afternoon heat wrapping around us like a heavy blanket. It was one o’clock, but the day felt never-ending.A sleek black car awaited us, the driver standing by with military-like precision. Constantine’s expression didn’t change as he slid into the backseat, leaving me to follow. As the car pulled away from the airport, I watched the city blur past, vibrant and full of life—a sharp contrast to the cold silence between us.The drive to the hotel was short, but every second felt stretched, heavy with the words we weren’t saying. When we arrived, the hotel loomed over us, a glass and steel tower that glittered under the sun. It was the kind of place that radiated wealth and power—just like Constantine.As we walked through the grand lobby, my footsteps echoed on