All Chapters of THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The docks were a blend of rustic charm and rugged elegance, the wooden piers weathered with years of use. Boats of various sizes bobbed gently on the water, their sails filled with the coastal breeze, creating a quiet rhythm as the waves lapped against the stone and wood. The air was thick with the scent of saltwater, a subtle reminder of the vast ocean beyond the island.The horizon stretched out in a wide arc, where the deep blue of the ocean met the sky in an endless line. The island felt like a place suspended in time, a realm apart from the rest of the world.Luca’s arm tightened around Maria’s waist, pulling her closer as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur against her ear. “Behave, unless you want to be punished again.”Maria simply nodded, her heart racing as she tried to hold her composure. This was a new world for her, a world of power and danger that she barely understood. She had to play her part, not just for herself, but

A few days had passed, yet it felt like mere minutes for the women.The estate, once a fortress of power and control, now stood in disarray. The grand halls, which had witnessed whispered secrets and stolen laughter, now echoed with the wails of its most beloved occupants. The very walls seemed to mourn their impending separation, shadows stretching long under the glow of the chandeliers, as if reluctant to let go of the mischief and warmth that had once filled the space.Maria, Mafalda, Nune, Alexei, and Goodness clung to one another, their arms locked in desperation as though sheer force could prevent what was inevitable. But their husbands—men who commanded entire empires, men who had the world at their feet—were wholly unimpressed by their theatrics.To them, this was inevitable.To the women, it was unbearable.Luca stood at the far end of the room, his arms crossed, cigarette burning lazily between his lips as he watched M

Maria whimpered softly beneath him, her hips instinctively rocking back, greedy for every last flicker of sensation, every last pulse of him spilling into her.Slowly, reverently, Luca shifted, slipping an arm under her, gathering her close."Easy, mi amor," he rasped, his voice rough and sweet and filthy all at once.With aching tenderness, he coaxed her onto her side, spooning her against his chest.His cock slid deeper with the shift, drawing a broken gasp from both of them.He groaned low, forehead pressed to the nape of her neck."Fuck," he breathed.His hand splayed over her lower belly, protective, reverent, possessive.Maria trembled, overwhelmed, her hand flying down to cover his, threading their fingers together over the soft swell of her stomach."Mi esposa perfecta... madre de mi hijo..."(My perfect wife… mother of my child…)Maria turned blindly, seeking him, and he caugh

Maria woke up to an unfamiliar stillness.The penthouse was too quiet, too cold, as if it had been abandoned overnight. The usual soft hum of the city that crept through the double-glazed windows felt muted today, as if the world had decided to hold its breath.Her hand instinctively reached for the other side of the bed, but it was empty. Not just empty—untouched.The sheets were smooth, still pressed, a stark contrast to her side where the blanket twisted around her legs. A chill ran down her spine, her brows knitting together as she sat up, the silk strap of her nightgown sliding down her shoulder.Edwards had come home last night, hadn’t he?She remembered waiting for him, curled up on the velvet chaise by the window, watching the minutes drag by. The clock had ticked past midnight, then one. Still, she waited. She had convinced herself that he was just busy. That was always the excuse.Important meetings.

Maria had once dreamed of a wedding — a real one.A soft white dress that brushed the floor, heavy with lace and hope. A church full of family she never had. Flowers trembling in her hands as she walked down an aisle toward a man who would look at her like she was everything he had ever wanted.She could almost hear the music, soft and trembling, almost smell the fresh-cut roses.But reality had given her none of that.Edwards hadn’t proposed with a trembling voice or shining eyes. There had been no tearful promises.One day, without warning, he had simply said, "Let’s make this official."And then he took her to a courthouse — a gray, crumbling building that smelled of bleach and dust and lost hopes.No celebration. No flowers.Just a grim-faced clerk in a too-tight suit, sliding papers across a counter. Just Edwards' hand on her back, pressing her forward like a deal being closed.A cold exchange of v