The Heart of the Mafia Twin のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 131 - チャプター 140

Two weeks after the proposal, the Robinson estate was a whirlwind of activity again—not for another battle or family council, but something far more nerve-wracking for Artemis Robinson:**Planning a wedding.**“Tell me again why we can’t just elope?” Artemis muttered, leaning against the edge of his desk in the west wing study. He was flipping through a thick leather-bound wedding planning book that Allie had left on his desk, a pencil tucked behind his ear like a reluctant student.“Because I want to walk down an aisle and make someone cry,” Allie called out as she entered, two sets of color swatches fanned in her hands. “And Klarisse’s dad *will* cry if I ask him to walk me down. I want that.”Artemis paused, setting the book down. “You’re really asking Alan and Kareen to give you away?”Allie walked over and plopped the swatches in front of him, her smile a little more tender this time. “I don’t have parents of my own, Artemis. But Klarisse’s mom and dad… they’ve always treated me

The chapel stood as a picture of timeless elegance—high arched ceilings adorned with soft ivory flowers, pews lined with garlands of eucalyptus and roses, and candlelight casting a golden glow that made everything feel touched by magic. There was a hush in the air, the kind of reverent stillness that wrapped around everyone as they took their seats, waiting for something sacred to begin.Artemis Valen stood at the front, his hands clasped behind his back, every inch of him polished and regal in his tailored charcoal suit. But even as the strong face of a mafia heir, his eyes betrayed him. They searched the entrance again and again, restless, expectant. The man who commanded operations with a single nod now seemed like he was barely holding it together.Alexander stood beside him, proud and composed in his role as best man. His hand occasionally patted Artemis’s shoulder, grounding him. He leaned in, speaking low enough for only his brother to hear.“You’re not going to faint, are you?

The days that followed the wedding seemed to drift by like the slow current of the Venetian canals. With Luca’s downfall firmly in the past, the families were finally beginning to breathe—really breathe—for the first time in months. There were no whispers of war, no looming threats. Just silence. Just peace.It was a strange sensation.And in that silence, each of them began to reckon with the scars they carried—some visible, most not.---KlarisseThe garden behind the Robinson estate had become Klarisse’s refuge.The twins were playing in the distance, their laughter echoing like music through the hedges. She sat beneath the shade of a lemon tree, a book open in her lap but unread. Her thoughts wandered far from the printed words.She still dreamt of that room sometimes—the one Luca left her in. The cold floor. The flickering monitor. Alex's face as he chose someone else.But those dreams didn’t hold the same power they used to. Not since the wedding.Allie had said something that s

The countryside rolled out before them in soft waves of green and gold, olive trees scattered like gentle sentinels across the hills. The villa stood like a warm promise—sunlit walls, terracotta roof tiles, and pale curtains fluttering at the open windows. Not opulent. Not defensive. Just... home.Klarisse stepped out of the car, her hand loosely gripping her daughter’s while Alexander carried their son in his arms, the toddler already pointing excitedly at the garden.“Mommy! Look, trees!” the boy exclaimed.Klarisse smiled, brushing back her daughter’s wind-blown curls as she murmured, “Yes, baby. So many trees.”They crossed the small stone path leading to the wide front steps. The air was fresh, the kind of quiet that invited stillness instead of pressing it upon you.Alex unlocked the door and gestured for them to go in first. “This is it,” he said simply.Inside, the villa was open and full of light. Large windows let the sunlight stream into a spacious living room that smelled

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted out onto the cobbled street, mingling with the warm mid-morning sun. The soft hum of chatter, the clinking of cups, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air, a soothing balm after months of chaos and pain. The name—“Clara & Co.”—was painted above the counter in Allie’s own handwriting. A tribute to Klarisse, but also a quiet declaration of independence, had finally opened its doors for a quiet soft launch.It wasn’t a grand affair. There were no streamers, no major announcements. But for everyone who walked through those glass-paned doors, it was clear something special had taken root.Klarisse stood behind the counter, helping the barista learn the flow of orders. Her hands were deft, her movements calm—every motion reminding her of the early days when she and Allie used to dream of a place like this over late-night shifts and greasy diner food. Now, they were here. Together. Building something beautiful.Allie emerged from the bac