All Chapters of Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance : Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

Blackwood's drawing room was heavy with air. Harrison's words had seared his mind—coward, not man, your mother didn't want you, your father punished you. They'd pierced deeper than the rest until anger had blinded him to everything. His fist had risen, shaking but unyielding, to strike her face. But before he could strike her, another hand had encircled his wrist—still, unyieldingly blind. Nathaniel. The older of the twins, his humpback radiating peace and calm. His usually peaceful, still eyes are now blazing with shock. Harrison flinched, taking deep breaths, his tightly clasped fist unclenching halfway through space like a blunted knife without a point. "No" "Enough," Nathaniel growled, the syllable soft but steel-edged in tension in sound. The two words hanging in mid-air, knife-edged in tension. Harrison turned his wrist around in circles, trying to shake him off, but Nathaniel wouldn't budge. He growled at his brother, rage seeping out through his pores. "Get off me, Nat

There was a gagging silence following the tape. No one was brave enough to breathe too hard. The blackness closing in around the room leaned in and listened, perhaps thriving on the wreckage the recording had created. Harrison stood rigid where he was, his shaking hands, pale face contorted in shock. His lips struggled in silence, drowning man gasped for air. "Me—" His voice cracked. "That… that wasn't me. I don't—" But the words were bitter to him too. Because it was his voice. His fury. His cruelty. No remorse could unravel him from what they had all heard. Vivian sat back in her chair, hand shaking on her lips, eyes full. Eleanor was now openly weeping, pride shattered. And Samuel… Samuel just sat, his unblinking glassy eyes, jaw locked so tight the vein on his temple pulsed. He was weighing, measuring, judging. Nathaniel's voice broke into theirs. "You thought the tape was the end?" he gasped. His voice was not triumphant, but raw and torn his eyes met his little brother's,

Blackwood House was usually more raucous than any other place, but tonight it shrieked with the pandemonium of madness. As Nathaniel's recording came to a close — Leya's screams of terror still ringing off every wall of the ballroom — the room exploded, Eleanor screamed, Vivian swore, and Samuel bellowed so loudly the chandeliers shook. Harrison… Harrison no longer heard. He stood in the hurricane, head anywhere, the letter searing his palm like flame. All that he had ever dreamed of was torn apart around him in two seconds. Reality of his action was no longer a ghost he could conceal — it was a fetid corpse lying open for everyone to see. "See what you've done!" Vivian spat, her voice as hard as rock breaking. "You've broken up this family, Harrison! Spineless, yellow, just like your mother—" "Don't even think about mentioning her name!" Harrison spat, his words breaking beyond their breaking point as his chest ached, his throat was scorched, and for the first time in years, he wa

The penthouse was a tomb.Nights became days, and days shattered into shards of glass and shattered bottles. Harrison hardly ate. Hardly slept. Lived much of the time slumped in the window, watching the city struggling to breathe and him unable to breathe.And the Blackwood family voice mails. Samuel's snarls of rage, Vivian's venomous threats, and Eleanor's accusation shriek. And Nathaniel's monosyllable, cold as: "Be a man once in your life."Harrison shut it down. He blocked the numbers, muted the phone, and left it on the ground among pieces of shattered glass. For the first time, he didn't care about the Blackwoods.But silence was a maddening power.In the second week, he was aware that if he did nothing, the piece inside him would consume him alive. His warning of change blazed in his mind, taunting him with each passing second his picture flashed his fiery fists before him.Change. How?---He slumped in the therapist's office like a man bound down.The room was small, with li

The room was stretched too tight with its silence. There was just one clock on the wall, mercilessly and ruthlessly tick-tocking, ticking off the seconds to the minute he cooked him alive, Harrison slumped forward in the leather chair, his shoulders knotted and tense, his fists curled around his knees but The counselor just sat there, She never spoke a word instead She just sat there with a pencil far above the notebook, staring at him with that laser-beam look that could strip the clothes right off his back. She finally said something he was too scared to ask her: "Tell me about Maya." The name sliced like a knife. Harrison winced. His chest constricted. He tried to turn his head, but the glassy walls of the room stopped him — an emptiness man with ruddy-pink eyes and sin etched in every curve of his face. "I loved her," he growled, the words torn from some inner reservoir. "God, I loved her. Everything. My future. My dreams. My—" His throat closed. He stuffed his hand into his