บททั้งหมดของ Becoming The Mafia’s Surrogate: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

“Stop drinking, how long are you going to do this?” Franklin’s worried voice intruded Mirable’s ears but she didn’t give a hoot! She picked up another bottle and drowned herself in it and Franklin angrily snatched the bottle away. “Stop it goddamn it! Rose isn’t going to come back just because you drink away your sanity!”“Leave me alone… Mister… what’s your name again?…. Oh Franklin…”She staggered against the bar stool and actively tried to reach for the bottle. “Just let me…” She whined and squinted her eyes in annoyance. “Why can’t I even drink?! Let me!” Her yelling started gaining attention and heads began turning in their direction. The very thing Franklin hate was happening and he could only ruffle his hair and try to manage the situation.“Let’s leave first” He said above a whisper and instead of Mirable’s drunken voice a solid male voice responded to him. “I’ll take her” Franklin looked ahead and saw Mitch taking long strides towards them.“I’ll take her home” He sa

Mirable eyes fluttered open and a shining bulb caused her vision to blur out for a while. A groan escaped her lips as she tried to sit up. “You’re awake” A voice beside her caught her attention. “Mom…” she breathed and when she looked again she saw another figure at the end of the room.“Franklin…?”He didn’t respond but relief was visible in his face. “I’m glad you’re awake, I’ll take my leave now” It was only after his words that she stared out the window and saw the bright morning sun. “Ah! I have work, why didn’t you guys wake me?” She hurriedly raised herself and reached for her phone while Franklin couldn’t help but mumble some words.“You literally slept like a dog, how could we wake you up?” Mirable heard him but something else caught her attention, something far more grave that easily made the things he said about her trivial.“T-This!” She stammered as she pointed to her phone.“Why does it say Rose is getting married?!” Her voice climbed a pitch and the shock on he

The SUV rolled up to the front entrance of Donovan’s sprawling mansion. The estate was dark and foreboding, its grandeur emphasized by the towering stone walls and iron gates that surrounded it. Rosella sat silently, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. She glanced at Donovan, who leaned back against the seat, his jaw clenched in pain but his composure unyielding.As soon as the car stopped, Donovan’s men sprang into action. One opened the door for Rosella, while another helped Donovan out of the car. He waved them off impatiently, refusing to appear weak despite the blood soaking through his tailored suit.“Take me to the hidden room,” Donovan ordered, his voice rough but steady.Rosella followed closely, her heart pounding as they entered the mansion. It had been months since she’d last been here, but the memories flooded back instantly every hallway, every detail, a ghost of their time together. Donovan, ever private, led them down a discreet corridor that ended at a reinforced s

Rosella stepped into Marcus’s mansion, the heavy doors creaking shut behind her. The quiet of the hall was oppressive, a stark contrast to the chaos it had witnessed earlier. She noticed the broken furniture and shards of glass and the tension in the air lingered like a storm waiting to break.Her shoes clicked softly against the marble floor as she made her way to the living room. Marcus was there, seated on a sleek leather chair by the fireplace. He looked surprisingly composed, his damp hair slicked back from what must have been a long, deliberate bath. His white dress shirt was open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms. He swirled a glass of amber liquid in his hand, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his face.When his gaze lifted to meet hers, his expression was unreadable, a mask of calm that only unsettled her further.“You came back” he said, his voice low and smooth, though his lips curved into a smug s

The days in Marcus’s mansion dragged on for Rosella, every moment a reminder of her captivity. Yet, for Marcus, those same days carried an unexpected weight.It started with small things. He would pass by the library and find her curled up in one of the chairs, a book balanced on her lap, her brows furrowed in concentration. He’d linger in the shadows of the garden while she walked along the flower-lined paths, her hand brushing against the petals absentmindedly. Even her quiet moments like gazing out the window, lost in thoughts seemed to pull his attention like a magnet.But he told himself it was nothing. Just curiosity. Nothing more.One afternoon, as Marcus stood in the hallway, his eyes landed on Rosella in the kitchen. She wasn’t doing anything particularly noteworthy, just brewing tea. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the loose strands of her hair, giving her an ethereal glow. He couldn’t look away.Her movements were deliberate yet graceful, the simple act of