บททั้งหมดของ Sold To The Mafia Boss: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

ELEANORI stared at Don Salvatore in disbelief, my chest tight with shock and anger. "You have to be joking," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm, though deep down, I hoped it was true. "You want me to help you kill Armando? Do you even hear yourself?"His expression didn't shift, the charm he had been masking himself with all night replaced by something darker."Why the fuck would you ask me that?" I demanded, my hands trembling as I clenched them into fists at my sides."Do I look like someone who goes around killing people? Is that what you brought me here for? Because if that's it, you can forget it right now. It's not happening."Don Salvatore had that smug, detached look on his face as he tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching as though he found my outburst amusing—fueling my rage even more."I've heard what you wanted to say," I snapped, "And if that's all you had to discuss, now would be a good time for you to let me go. Unless, of course, you plan on killing me too."H

ARMANDO The ride back to the mansion was silent, but my head wasn’t. I couldn’t shake the image of Enzo’s face—cold and lifeless—in that bag. It played on a loop in my mind, every detail—the stiffness of his features, the unnatural stillness—etching deeper with each passing second. It wasn’t just grief that gripped me. It was anger—burning, unrelenting anger.I sat in the back seat, staring out at the rain-dotted windows with my jaw clenched so tightly that it ached a bit. The thirst for revenge was clawing at me—demanding I act, but I couldn’t afford to be reckless just yet. The police sniffing around my operations was something I just couldn’t afford at the moment.When the limo pulled into the driveway, Matteo jumped out even before the chauffeur had fully parked. He opened the door for me—holding an umbrella in one hand. “It’s starting to pour boss. Let me—”I waved him off and stepped out into the rain, ignoring the drizzle that quickly turned into a steady downpour. The cold wa

ELEANORArmando’s words kept playing over and over in my head as I hurriedly rummaged through my wardrobe. The tone he used left no room for argument, and I didn’t need anyone to tell me that if I didn’t act quickly, his temper would explode. The massive mansion—which sometimes felt like a labyrinth—was suddenly suffocating once again, its walls closing in as the weight of the previous evening’s events pressed down on me. My mind flashed to the blood, the screams, the gunshots—all too much that I could barely think straight.I pulled out a sleeveless white gown—simple but neat—and slipped it on. I didn’t have time to fuss over accessories or the perfect look, especially because Armando wasn’t exactly the type to wait and I didn’t want to test his patience today. I quickly applied a light layer of makeup—enough to mask my tired eyes and pale complexion—and glanced at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.Taking a deep breath, I made my way downstairs. Each s

ELEANORThe receptionist waved over a male nurse—gesturing toward where we had sat—and he approached quickly, a polite but professional expression on his face. “Right this way, sir,” he said, his voice calm and steady.Armando stood—adjusting his coat with a deliberate motion—and then he glanced at me. His look wasn’t harsh, but it carried a silent command. It was clear he expected me to walk ahead of him.I stood slowly, feeling the weight of the awkwardness I’d been carrying since we arrived. Matteo—ever silent and watchful—followed closely behind as we began to walk. The nurse led the way—his strides steady and purposeful—and I found myself matching his pace, though my gaze kept drifting.The further we moved away from the reception area, the more relieved I felt. The burning stares and muffled whispers of the queue had left an imprint on me, but at least now I could breathe without the judgment of strangers pressing down on me. Armando had a way of making every public moment feel

ELEANORArmando had been acting strange for the past few days and I couldn’t help but notice it. It had been three days now since he took me to the hospital and ever since then he hadn’t left the mansion, not even to step outside the front door into the compound. It was really so strange for someone like him—who always moved around with purpose—to suddenly become so stationary.The mansion was unbearably quiet and it wasn’t the peaceful kind of silence either. This silence was suffocating, heavy, and stretched across every corner of the house like a thick, invisible fog.Yesterday I had accidentally dropped a spoon while I was in the kitchen and the clattering sound that came from it echoed so loudly throughout the mansion—making the stillness even more pronounced—to the extent that it startled me as though I’d disturbed some fragile balance. That was how quiet everything had become.I had always wanted space—some peace and quiet—away from Armando, yet now that I had it, I wasn’t as r