บททั้งหมดของ Sold To The Devil Mafia Boss: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, and Selena stirred awake, blinking against the brightness. Her body ached from the tension of the past few days, but the faint hum of voices drew her out of bed. Rubbing her eyes, she slipped on a robe and padded down the hall. The sight in the dining room stopped her in her tracks. Alina sat at the breakfast table, her hair brushed neatly, though her face still bore faint signs of exhaustion. Across from her was Selena’s mother, quietly sipping tea as if this were a normal morning. “Alina?” Selena’s voice wavered, half-convinced she was dreaming. Alina turned, her tired eyes lighting up when she saw Selena. “Morning,” she said, her voice soft but steady. Selena hurried to her side, gripping her shoulders gently. “You’re okay. You’re really okay.” Alina nodded, her gaze dropping. “Thanks to you.” Selena sat across from her, her heart heavy with relief and guilt. “How did it happen? How did they take you?” Alina hesitated, her han

Selena stood in front of the mirror, her lips pressed into a tight line as she reluctantly fastened the last strap of the red gown. The thin, revealing fabric clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and furious. Adrian had taken control of so many aspects of her life, and now, even her clothing wasn’t safe. Her reflection glared back at her, defiant despite her discomfort. "Fine", she thought. "If he wants me to wear this, I’ll wear it. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me broken."When she stepped out of the room, the guard and maid exchanged glances but said nothing. She ignored them, lifting her chin as they escorted her down the hall and outside, where Adrian waited by the car. He was leaning casually against the sleek black vehicle, dressed in a tailored suit that hugged his frame perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, and the faintest hint of stubble lined his jaw. Selena froze for a moment, caught off guard by ho

Selena’s eyelids fluttered open to a dimly lit room. Her body felt heavy, her head pounding faintly as she tried to sit up. A sharp tug on her arm made her pause. Glancing down, she saw a thin tube connected to her wrist, leading to an IV drip beside the bed. “What…?” she murmured, confusion clouding her thoughts. Instinctively, her free hand reached for the needle. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep, familiar voice rumbled from the shadows. Selena froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned sharply toward the voice, her eyes widening when she saw Adrian seated in a chair near her bed, his arms crossed and his gaze piercing. “You—” she began, her voice trembling with surprise and anger. Adrian cut her off, his tone calm but firm. “Leave the drip alone. You need it.” Selena’s confusion turned to suspicion. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse. Before Adrian could respond, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called, his voice commandin

Three days after being discharged from the hospital, Selena felt restless. She wandered the quiet halls of the mansion's east wing, her footsteps echoing softly. Adrian had insisted on keeping her on a strict meal schedule, ensuring she regained her strength, but her heart felt heavier with each passing day. She paused when she heard the faint strains of music drifting through the air. It was classical—gentle and melancholic.Following the sound, Selena found herself at a partially open door. Inside, Valerie sat at a grand piano, her fingers dancing across the keys with ease. The melody was familiar: Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat Major. Selena froze, her mind taking her back to late nights in their college music room. Back then, she and Valerie had giggled over missed notes, sharing secrets between measures.“Are you going to stand there all day?” Valerie’s voice broke the spell. Her hands hovered over the keys, but her sharp tone cut through the melody.Selena hesitated, stepping into

The Rosso family’s estate was bathed in the golden glow of late afternoon as the mahogany doors of the grand conference room loomed large. Inside, the tension was palpable, voices overlapping in heated debate. The long oak table, polished to a mirror sheen, was surrounded by family elders and representatives from allied clans, their expressions a mix of frustration and determination. “This family cannot afford delays!” one of the elders barked, slamming his fist onto the table. “Adrian’s refusal to settle down is a weakness, and the other families know it. We need a proper alliance through marriage.” “I agree,” another added, her sharp tone cutting through the din. “The Calabrese girl is perfect—young, well-bred, and her family controls key territories. It’s a logical match.” “Logical, perhaps,” another voice countered, “but what about the Marinetti heir? Their shipping routes would strengthen our operations in the south.” The arguments grew louder, descending into chaos as ev