All Chapters of Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don: Chapter 411 - Chapter 420

Fernando’s POV I have lived through nights of gunfire. I have walked into ambushes where my heart pounded against my ribs as bullets rained down. I have sat across the table from men who would slit my throat if I dared to blink. But this quiet evening at the dining table with Henry chewing on his food while two hours passed without word of Michael or Emilio was somehow worse. The air was heavy with silence. The silver cutlery clinked whenever Henry cut into his food. The sound echoed like hammer in my skull. Two hours ago, I told them to search, to comb every street and corner of the city, but no call had come. No word and no trace of Michael. My jaw tightened as I picked up my fork again, stabbing absently at the roast chicken in front of me. I forced my hand to move, forced myself to chew slowly, to swallow as if nothing was wrong. For Henry’s sake. The boy sat opposite me, shoulders straight, trying to mimic my composure. He was too young to understand the weight pressin

Fernando’s POV I had always thought nothing could surprise me anymore.Not betrayal, not death, not the way the world liked to twist the knife when I thought I had already bled enough. But tonight, standing in my own dining hall, with the air still heavy with the scent of roasted lamb and spiced wine, with the candles flickering shadows across the marble walls, I realized I was wrong.Michael had shocked me, and worse… he looked pleased about it.I stared at him across the long oak table. He hadn’t even taken his seat. His hands rested lazily at his sides, the faintest curl of a smile tugging at his lips. It was not a nervous smile, or a look of guilt. It was satisfaction.The words still echoed in my skull, bouncing around like pieces of glass.“I killed Archer.”For a moment, the only sound i could hear was the loud beating of my heart pounding loudly against my ribcage. Emilio immediately went pale and shifted uneasily by the doorway. The silence pressed in, suffocating, waitin

Fernando’s POV The sound of applause was still ringing in my ears long after I left the podium. The ribbon-cutting ceremony had gone exactly as planned with numerous cameras flashing, hands shaking, board members grinning, and the press recording every polite, hollow phrase that left my lips. The flashbulbs painted my face with false warmth, and I wore the mask they expected, but beneath the mask, the irritation burned. The very thought of Michael soured the taste of champagne still lingering on my tongue. I was supposed to go back to the mansion immediately after the event. The chauffeur had the car waiting at the curb, the convoy lined up like a loyal parade. My men moved with the quiet precision of soldiers. Yet I hesitated as the doors opened for me. The mansion meant Michael and that meant arguments, tears, and the shadow of Archer’s blood still staining his conscience. And I wasn’t ready for that. Instead, I dismissed the driver with a flick of my wrist. “We're not

Fernando’s POV The creak of the door froze me and I turned to look at it as it opened wider and Michael stepped in, but he wasn't alone. Henry trailed behind him, a small hand tucked into Michael’s, eyes bright and unblinking. “Michael,” I said finally, the name leaving my mouth with a politeness I had no business practicing. I kept my voice flat, even. “I didn’t expect to—see you.” His expression was a mirror of my own internal scramble. “Fernando. What—what are you doing here?” My hand found my jacket without thinking, the fabric a distraction. “I came to check on her.” I nodded toward Ashley. “She’s been unconscious for a while. I thought I should make sure—” Those last words were a lie so practiced other people would mistake them for truth. Michael’s eyes narrowed, the skepticism sharp enough to cut the hospital light. “Worried,” he echoed, as if testing the word in his mouth. “That doesn’t sound like you.” Henry, merciless in his innocence, tugged at Michael’s sleeve

Fernando’s POV I hated the way lies sat heavy on my tongue. They tasted like metal, sharp and bitter, but I had mastered the art of speaking them so smoothly that even the cleverest man in the world swallowed them as truth. It was one of the things I had picked up from my father while I watched him conduct business with some of his associates who he didn’t trust very much. I hated it but the results were much better despite the aftertaste it left in your mouth. Tonight, though, the lies taste worse, because they weren’t meant for enemies or subordinates, they were meant for Michael. I had kept lying to the only man I have ever let myself love in this godforsaken world, and now I was still lying straight to his face. Michael was smart though and a part of me was convinced he didn't completely believe my excuse for why he had come to the hospital and met me in Ashley’s room. I couldn’t blame him for being extremely cautious of the words that came out of my mouth, after all, Mich