บททั้งหมดของ The Reluctant Mafia Bride: บทที่ 131 - บทที่ 140

The drug dealer’s house was tucked away in the farthest corner of a shadowy alley, a grimy and forgotten part of the city where the faint glow of streetlights barely reached. The building itself was a crumbling, decrepit structure, its once-white walls now stained with years of neglect and graffiti. The windows were dark, except for the flickering blue light of a television casting an eerie glow through the thin curtains. Arya stood just outside the door, her heart pounding in her chest, though her expression remained calm, almost disinterested. She was skimpily dressed, her tight dress clinging to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. The outfit was designed to catch the eye, to make her seem like just another woman looking for a quick score or a rough night. But underneath the flimsy exterior, Arya’s mind was sharp, her senses heightened as she waited for her moment. She leaned casually against the wall, her stiletto heels clicking softly against the cracked pavemen

Leonardo straightened up, still gripping the hammer, his gaze shifting from José’s broken form to Ricardo. He could feel the tension in the room thickening as Ricardo’s eyes gleamed with sadistic anticipation. The sight of José’s suffering only seemed to fuel his excitement. “Ricardo,” Leonardo said with a tight voice, though he forced a smile. “You always have the worst timing.” Ricardo chuckled. “I disagree. I think I have impeccable timing. Just in time to witness the truth spilling out, right, José?” He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving the prisoner, who was trembling, barely holding himself together. José could only whimper in response, his body wracked with pain, his broken hand cradled against his chest. Leonardo’s patience was wearing thin. He needed to get to the bottom of this, alone. And while he wasn’t averse to using violence, he preferred it to be purposeful, not gratuitous. Unlike Rob or Ricardo. “José,” Ricardo said, gaining the man’s attention. “

WARNING: THIS EPISODE CONTAINS CONTENT THAT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME READERS. Lima walked into Henry’s office, her dress revealing just enough to leave him wanting more. The sway in her hips and the confidence in her stride made it clear she was used to getting what she wanted. Henry’s eyes locked onto her, unable to tear them away. “Henry, how are you?” she asked, her voice smooth as she approached his desk. Henry’s gaze lingered on her, taking in every detail. “Lima, it’s always a pleasure to see you,” he replied, his voice barely hiding the hunger in his eyes. “Then do me a favor. Ask me to sit,” she said, her tone soft yet demanding, her eyes never leaving his. Henry swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. “Please, have a seat, Lima. What can I do for you?” he asked, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “The Italian Don,” she started, cutting straight to the point as she gracefully sat down. “Why can’t I get a meeting with him?” Henry hesitated, choos

Arya crouched down beside Lima, her expression more curious than concerned. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice calm and probing. Lima’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused as if she were trying to escape the memory that haunted her. “It was Henry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He tried to… I had to get out of there.” Arya’s eyes narrowed, the name Henry triggering a faint but uneasy recognition. For Lima to be this shaken, something had gone horribly wrong. Ricardo’s jaw clenched, his voice steely. “Henry, the priest?” “Yes,” Lima responded, her breathing growing rapid as panic began to overtake her. Before the situation could spiral further, Bianca stepped in, her voice firm yet soothing. “She’s having a panic attack. I’ll handle it.” Kneeling beside Lima, Bianca gently guided her through the 5-4-3-2-1 method, her presence a calming force amidst the rising tension. Leonardo, ever vigilant, only relaxed his grip on his gun when he was certain Lima p

LIMA’S POV As the door clicked shut behind Arya, Lima lay still, staring up at the ceiling. The room felt unnervingly quiet, the silence pressing down on her like a weight. She wasn’t used to this—a silence that wasn’t laced with hidden threats or masked intentions. Kindness, she thought bitterly. What am I supposed to do with that? It was easier to deal with anger, with betrayal. Those were things she knew, things she could fight against or manipulate. But kindness? That was dangerous in a way she wasn’t prepared for. It slipped under her defenses, making her feel things she wasn’t ready to face. Why did she help me? Lima’s mind raced, trying to make sense of Arya’s actions. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe it was out of pure goodness. People didn’t just do things like that, not in her world. There had to be a catch, something she was missing. But even as she tried to convince herself of this, a small voice inside her whispered otherwise. Arya’s kindness had been genui