Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 391 - チャプター 400

Fernando’s POV The wail of the ambulance sirens faded into the distance, swallowed by the city’s roar, until only the shallow echo remained between the boutique walls and the trembling pavement. For a moment, the silence that followed seemed louder than the sirens themselves. Michael’s knees gave out beneath him. He stayed crouched in the middle of the parking lot, staring at the trail of blood Ashley had left smeared against the ground, as if frozen there by some invisible hand. His mouth opened, but no words came, only a strangled sound, part sob, part scream. I watched. I didn’t flinch, I didn’t even blink, inside, I felt whole in a way only justice, my justice, could deliver. Yesterday, in front of my men, she had humiliated me, her palm smacking across my face for all to see. She had dared to belittle me, to treat me as if I were some petty, powerless fool No one slaps Fernando Ramirez and walks away alive, but I couldn’t show that satisfaction. Not here, not now. So I

Fernando’s POV I’ll be honest, I had hoped the ambulance wouldn’t make it. Not because I was threatened by Ashley in anyway. That’s the story I tell myself, anyway. It’s easier to pretend my thoughts are cold calculations rather than something darker. But in truth, her survival was a complication I didn’t want, a burden, a problem wrapped in flesh and blood that threatened everything I had worked for. So when the sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, slicing through the city’s noise until they reached the hospital gates, a sour heaviness pressed down on my chest. It was disappointment, cold, sharp, and undeniable. The red-and-blue lights smeared across the glass doors as they burst open. The paramedics wheeled her in, pale as wax, blood staining the sheets beneath her body. I masked my disgust with a neutral face. Michael would never forgive me if he knew what I really felt, but deep down, I wished that second ambulance had broken down too. I wished the blood loss ha

Fernando’s POV The dining hall was too quiet, save for the clink of silverware against porcelain. I had hoped that tonight, at least, the sound of Michael’s voice would bring some life into the room, but he barely touched his food. He pushed the roasted meat around his plate, toyed with the glass of wine Anabelle had poured, and let silence sit between him and Henry. I ate slowly, deliberately, though I had little appetite myself, but unlike Michael, I had learned long ago that appearances mattered. Even at my own table, especially at my own table, I never allowed the mask to slip. Michael’s eyes, though, told the truth. They were shadowed, weary, red at the edges as though he had been holding back tears. His broad shoulders sagged as if the very weight of the mansion rested there. But he was here. That mattered more than anything. He had come back, not for me, not directly, but because of Henry. Finally, Henry spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Michael, will Ashle

Michael’s POV The tires hummed against the cobblestones as Fernando’s men drove me toward Santiago’s estate. I used to wear an easy smile everywhere I went, sometimes lazy, sometimes charming, always unbothered. But now My jaw was locked tight. Ashley’s face haunted me. I saw it every time I blinked. The way she gasped, the way her body fell to the ground, her blood spreading against the concrete of that boutique parking lot. Fernando’s men flanked me—two in the front, two in the car behind us. They didn’t talk much, only grunted occasionally over the radio, calling in checkpoints. The gates to Santiago’s estate were visible as we got closer, the imposing structure increasing in size by each distance we crossed. As we rolled to a stop, two guards with assault rifles stepped forward, their faces unreadable behind mirrored sunglasses. One leaned down to look at the driver, exchanged a few words, then pressed a button. The gates swung open with a groaning creak. We drove insi

Michael’s POV The scent of cigar smoke clung thickly to the air, mixing with the smell of wood and leather. But what caught my attention wasn’t the smell. It was Fernando and Marlo. They were leaning close across the broad desk, their voices low, words hurried and clipped, as though something pressed heavily between them. I couldn’t make out what was said, just the quick cadence of urgency. Then, the moment my shadow fell across the threshold, their conversation died like a flame snuffed out. “Michael,” Fernando said, his tone warm but his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Welcome back.” I narrowed my gaze slightly. “I get the feeling I walked in on something.” “Not at all,” Fernando replied smoothly, as if he had rehearsed the words. “Just business, nothing more.” Marlo remained silent, his eyes darting toward the bookshelf, his hands clasped behind his back as though trying to make himself less suspicious. I stepped further inside, closing the door with a soft click b