Início / Mafia / She, His Enigma / Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

Todos os capítulos de She, His Enigma: Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

156 Capítulos

Her presence

Ellaya’s fists clenched, the muscles in her arms coiling with the familiar anticipation of combat. Across from her, the man charged — a wall of fury, his rage radiating like heat off an open flame. She didn’t move. Not yet. Every second stretched into infinity. Her breath was steady, slow. Then — with a snap of motion — she twisted sideways and drove her elbow into his ribs. The sickening thud cracked through the air. He folded instantly, crumpling like a broken doll. Before he even hit the floor, she moved again, hooking his ankle and sending him crashing onto the cold, blood-slicked concrete. The crowd erupted around her — a roar thick and frenzied — but it felt distant, muffled, like noise behind glass. Her world had narrowed to a sharp, merciless focus. Another fighter lunged at her from the side, a blur of desperation. Ellaya caught him mid-strike, pivoting smoothly, her body a blade honed by violence. With a brutal twist, she snapped his arm. The crack echoed louder th

Back from the dead

Ellaya crouched behind a crumbling wall, her breath slow, deliberate—the kind you take before a kill. She lit a cigarette with steady hands, the flare briefly illuminating her sharp features. She inhaled the smoke with calm, predatory ease. "Time to say hello to dear daddy," she whispered, flicking the cigarette into the darkness. Her fingers closed around a jagged stone, its rough edges biting into her palm. With a sharp flick, she hurled it deep into the woods. Ahead, a cluster of gangsters lounged around a battered table, their laughter rolling like distant thunder across the night. The heavy air reeked of sweat, gun oil, and cheap beer—thick enough to taste. A heartbeat— Silence. Then— Alarms shrieked, cutting the night like wounded animals. Chairs scraped. Men cursed. The lazy haze of gambling shattered into frantic motion. She moved. A whisper in the dark. The warehouse swallowed her whole. Inside, the smell of gasoline and rust curled around her

They met again

A sharp spin— Cold lips crashed against hers, slamming her back into the jagged brick wall. The scent hit her first. That same deep cologne—smoke, cedar, danger. Then came the ghostly chill of his skin, colder than memory. Her eyes flew open. His were shut, lost in the kiss. His mouth moved over hers slowly, deliberately, tongue tracing hers like a scar reopening. His palm gripped her waist, thumb circling in soft, possessive motions through the thin fabric of her dress. His other hand cupped her jaw with something like reverence. She was caught—breathless between flesh and stone—heart thrashing, body frozen. Heat bloomed in her chest. The kiss drugged her for a heartbeat—seductive, toxic, cruel. Tears burned the corners of her eyes. Nostalgia, sharp and brutal, surged up her throat— Then— A brutal knee to the gut. A groan tore the silence of the alley. Ellaya shoved him off her. He stumbled back, stunned by the force behind her strike. Straightening slowly, he clutched his s

Woman in red dress

The air turned suffocating the moment Iden stepped inside the house. The walls pulsed with the echo of raised voices—harsh, fractured, and unforgiving. “As far as I remember, I made myself clear years ago,” Mayor Ruan said coolly, wiping his glasses with slow precision before slipping them back on. His fingers trembled—just enough to betray the storm beneath his calm. “We are done with them.” Across the room, Kai sat with deceptive ease, spine straight, jaw clenched. His voice cut through the static like a blade. “And as far as I remember, they’re still her blood.” The tension snapped into silence. Then came a sound like a splintering bone—a choked sob. Iden turned sharply. His mother was hunched on the couch, her face crumpled in tears. He rushed to her side, kneeling, his hand enveloping hers. “Mom, what happened?” The softness in his tone barely masked the urgency pulsing beneath it. Luna sniffled, voice breaking through the tremor of her grief. “Your uncle’s family

Not her

The overweight, middle-aged man pulled Ellaya closer by the waist, reeking of sweat and stale cologne. He leaned in, breath hot against her ear. "It’s time to taste my favorite drink," he whispered, his voice thick with sleaze. Ellaya giggled, head thrown back in mock delight. “Mmm, lucky me,” she purred, her fingers brushing his bloated stomach. Her neck-length short red hair bounced with the motion, and when she smiled, her snow-white teeth framed by blood-red lips seemed almost too perfect—almost dangerous. His eyes drank her in with animalistic hunger.“God, you’re a piece of work.” He shoved the door open and tossed her onto the plush bed. She bounced twice, landing with deliberate grace. Her eyes flicked to the hidden camera inside the ornate painting. She smiled—seductive, knowing. --- Iden sat in silence, watching her every move. Every glance. Every breath. His hand clenched around the armrest, knuckles white. His chest burned, rage simmering like wildfire under h

Confesion or chaos

Ellaya hesitated at the doorway, inhaling deeply. The house still clung to her—whispering ghosts through dust-laden air, pressing its past into her skin. Every shadow murmured stories; memories coiled in the wood and stone, weaving a tapestry of love, deception, and ruin. Her fingers trembled as they brushed the door. It creaked open with a reluctant groan. Silence devoured her whole. She stepped inside. The wooden floor groaned beneath her boots—each step a slow echo, like the thudding heartbeat of the house itself. The air was thick, stale, carrying the weight of forgotten arguments and kisses that had long since turned cold. Then— “Why?” The word sliced through the silence like a blade. She froze. That voice—deep, steady, sharpened by restrained rage—hit her like a gunshot to the soul. Her head snapped to the left. Iden sat on the single worn-out sofa. Legs sprawled. Fingers steepled. Shadows sliced across his face, obscuring the storm underneath—a mixture of grief an

Still married

The tires screeched as Iden slammed his foot on the gas, weaving through the deserted streets like they belonged to him. His knuckles blanched around the steering wheel, jaw clenched tight, eyes flicking toward the passenger seat every few seconds. “Hold on, princess,” he muttered, voice raw, thick with desperation. “We’re almost there.” Ellaya slumped beside him, her coat wrapped tightly around her trembling frame. Blood seeped through the fabric, soaking into her side like ink in water. She clutched the collar like it was the only thing keeping her soul inside her skin. No cries. No moans. Just silence. That silence—so unlike her—shredded him. The car skidded to a halt at the private gates. Before the engine finished dying, Iden was out. He tore open her door and swept her into his arms. Her arm dangled limp, blood trailing behind them like a broken promise. “Stay with me, Ellaya,” he whispered into her hair as the elevator rose. His voice cracked. “Please hold on.” Th

Truth

“I’m still a married man, Ellaya,” Iden murmured, his voice like the weight of stone. “I’d have to divorce you before marrying anyone.” She froze. Then, like a flame catching wind, she turned—eyes blazing, breath sharp. “Then do it! Divorce me! Marry her! I don’t give a damn about you or your f*cking girlfriend!” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t falter. She stormed toward the door, grabbing her coat in a single, furious movement. Something clattered to the floor—a sharp metallic sound that sliced through the tension like a blade. Iden’s gaze flicked downward. A flash drive. Before he could move, Ellaya spun—feral, fast, fire in her limbs—reaching for it. He snatched it up, holding it just out of reach. “What’s this?” Her jaw tightened. “None of your concern.” His eyes narrowed. “Everything about you is my concern.” Their eyes locked—rage meeting sorrow, grief meeting fury. Something unspoken bled between them, too broken to name. She lunged again, and th

Confession

Ellaya pulled away from him, her body taut like a bowstring, gaze darting around the room as if it were a cage. She rubbed her eyes, smudging away the fog of grief and fury that clouded her thoughts. Then, slowly, she turned to face him—her lips parted slightly, vulnerability shimmering in her eyes like cracks in glass. “I want to see them,” she said softly, her voice a fragile tremor in the stillness. Iden didn’t move. His eyes studied her, the same girl who once curled into his chest like she belonged there. Her heart—once soft, now shielded—beat beneath a skin that life had hardened. Her exterior still looked like stone, smoothed over by time, but he knew the chaos roiling beneath. “Eat first,” he said gently, his voice low, his eyes flicking to the blood dried on her clothes—evidence of a war not just fought outside, but deep within her soul. “And change. Samantha will help you.” ............. With Samantha’s quiet guidance, Ellaya stepped into the bathroom. Steam rose,

String

Two days later, Carl and Louisa’s bodies were discovered floating lifeless in the pool of their own mansion. That same afternoon, a video dropped like a bomb. Broadcasted on every channel, shared across every platform, the footage sent the nation into a tailspin. In it, Carl and Louisa sat side by side, pale and hollow-eyed—like ghosts confessing at their own wake. They revealed the truth: how they destroyed Ellaya’s life and buried her family’s legacy to cover up their crimes. How they framed her, poisoned Alex Ruan, planted an imposter at the Ruan Corporation, and forced Ellaya to lie in court. They ended with a grim, final confession: > “We’ve lived long enough with our crimes. Prison was never meant for us. So we chose the only escape left.” And just like that—public opinion turned. The same people who had spat Ellaya’s name with venom now filled the streets demanding justice. Social media overflowed with apologies and shame. #JusticeForEllaya #ForgiveUsEllaya

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