Alle Kapitel von Becoming a Substitute Wife for a Cold Mafia : Kapitel 11 – Kapitel 20

After the confrontation that night, the atmosphere in the Wilder residence changed drastically. Zean was no longer just cold, he became obsessive. The guards in every corner of the house were doubled. Helga felt like a prisoner in a luxury palace.This morning, Helga stood in front of the large mirror in her room. On the bed, the servant had prepared a very beautiful pale blue silk dress, Zean’s choice. However, Helga only glanced at it with a disgusted look.She stepped to the large wardrobe, rummaged through the very back, and took out black cargo pants and a dark gray tight t-shirt that she had asked one of the junior servants to buy the other day. She tied her long hair in a high ponytail style, leaving behind the graceful impression that Zean had been forcing upon her."I am not Helen," she muttered to her own reflection. "Stop treating me as if I were her."Helga went downstairs with steady steps. Her boots thudded on the marble, replacing the subtle sound of the high heels she

The sound of gunshots finally subsided, replaced by the silence of the night that returned to being haunting on the back perimeter of the Wilder residence. A thin smoke smelling of sulfur still drifted in the air, swept by the cold night wind. Several guards in black moved quickly entering the forest area to secure the bodies of the intruders who were successfully neutralized.Helga was still standing in her position, leaning against the cold concrete wall. Both of her hands holding the small pistol given by Rico slowly began to tremble. Not out of fear, but rather due to the residual adrenaline that was still pumping her heart crazily. She stared straight toward the darkness of the forest, the place where a few minutes ago a man fell because of her own bullet."Miss Helga."Rico's flat voice broke Helga's reverie. The short-haired man appeared from behind the darkness, lowering his weapon with an efficient movement. His gaze was directed at the pistol in Helga's hand which was still

The silence left by Zean after his departure to the faction elders' meeting felt far more haunting than the sound of gunshots from the previous night. Helga stood near the large window of the second-floor living room, staring at Zean's pitch-black sedan as it slowly moved, piercing the darkness of the night, followed by two escort cars behind it. The car's taillights gradually faded, leaving behind a thick night darkness around the vast yard of the Wilder residence.Helga exhaled a long breath, letting her forehead lean against the cold window glass. The fatigue after being beaten severely by Rico in the basement this morning still left aches throughout her body. However, her mind could not rest at all. Zean's explanation about Sebastian Norwich and the hidden data vault belonging to Helen's mother kept spinning in her head like a broken cassette.There was a piece of the puzzle that felt amiss. Why did Helen have a blood relation with a cruel man like Sebastian Norwich, while Helen's

The searing light from the spotlight on the ceiling of the old warehouse made the wound on Helga's shoulder feel increasingly stinging. Helga did not lower her pistol even a little bit. The muzzle of the weapon in her hand remained straight, aiming at the chest of the man she had called father for over a dozen years. The old man appeared gaunt, with lines of greed that never vanished from his face, standing haughtily as if he had just won the biggest lottery in his life. However, Helga's focus slowly split. Her gaze kept being drawn to the figure of the middle-aged woman standing beside the man. The woman had black hair tied back in a neat bun, wearing a dark blue velvet gown that radiated an aura of absolute power. Her jawline, the shape of her eyes, even the way the woman stared at Helga with a combination of coldness and grief, was remarkably similar to what Helga saw in the mirror every morning. And that face was a more mature version of Helen Novalie's face. "Lower your weapon

The touch of Zean's lips, which was initially demanding, slowly turned into a deep and intense kiss, channeling all the tension, rage, and fear of loss that had gripped them in the old warehouse earlier. Helga returned the kiss with an equally wild bravery. Her two hands, which had been holding a weapon earlier, now crept up, gripping the nape of Zean's neck and burying her fingers among the man's short black hair.Zean groaned low in the middle of their kiss, a sound arising from the hollow of his throat that sounded so primitive. Helga's very real presence, with her racing breath and fast-rhythmic heartbeat beneath his palm, triggered Zean's biological needs which all this time had been locked tightly behind the discipline wall of a faction leader. The residual adrenaline from the life-and-death battle they had just gone through transformed into a thick passion that burned away sanity.Zean's large hand went down to Helga's waist, lifting the girl's body slightly upward so that thei