Semua Bab HER SWEET AFFAIR WITH THE MAFIA: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The riverbanks reeked of rot and frost, the wind carrying remnants of decay that clung to the final breath of winter. Crimson police tape fluttered like torn warnings under dim searchlights, slicing through the gloom. Edgar pushed open the door of his vehicle with urgency, boots crunching against the gravel as he strode toward the scene, his face ashen beneath the harsh lighting. His eyes scanned the crowd of investigators, but his gaze locked instantly onto the black body bag being slowly zipped closed.Officers noticed his presence; some offered respectful nods and salutes, but Edgar didn’t see them. His world tunneled toward a single horrific possibility. A pale, bloated hand protruded from the edge of the bag before being tucked in. The fingers were stiff, skin stretched and swollen—clear signs she had been in the water for days. His steps quickened, unthinking, unstoppable.“Edgar!” A firm hand intercepted him just before he breached the perimeter. Magnus Vellion, head of the Hom

Jeanne froze where she sat—perched stiffly on the edge of the wooden chair—her body snapping to attention as if caught in something forbidden. The door had flown open with a sharp bang, and her name had been shouted so suddenly, so urgently, that her first instinct was to leap to her feet. But when her wide, startled eyes met Hector’s, she remained still, lips parting in stunned recognition.“Hector…?” Her voice wavered, caught between confusion and a flicker of unease.He stood just inside the doorway, breath uneven and gaze sweeping the room in a quick, frantic scan, but the tension in his shoulders eased as he saw her unharmed. The anxiety that had propelled him to barge in now ebbed into guilt—he had startled her more than whatever had made the noise in the first place.“I thought you were hurt,” Hector said, stepping forward slowly, trying to steady his tone. “Jeanne… are you all right?”She nodded, her brows drawing together as she tried to process the moment. “I’m fine. You… wh

That night, before going to bed, Jeanne gently wound the music box Hector had given her earlier. The soft, lullaby tones filled the quiet room, soothing her nerves and sparing her from having to pace while singing to her unborn child as she usually did. It was comforting, in a way she hadn’t expected, as though the melody itself had wrapped its arms around her.She lay back, running her fingers over the curve of her stomach, feeling how it had begun to lose its flatness. The sensation made her heart flutter. “Maybe you’re small like your mother,” she whispered with a weak laugh. “I’ve been too thin, too stressed… I’m sorry, little one. I promise I won’t let myself be this sad anymore.”Turning onto her side, she hugged the still-playing music box to her chest. “Should I find out if you’re a boy or a girl?” she mused aloud, her voice tender and playful. “I won’t mind either way, so will you let me see? I’ll ask Hector to come with me!”The joy in her voice hung for a moment before falt

Jeanne stepped into her home for the first time in what felt like forever. The house, with its modern minimalist design and muted grey walls, seemed to reflect the heavy stillness in her heart.Her eyes were still swollen, red, and exhausted—she hadn’t slept once during the journey back. Edgar knew her mind was still on Hector. The deal he had forced upon her had been cruel, perhaps unbearably so—but why should he care? Or at least, that’s what he told himself.He tried to speak with her, but Jeanne remained silent, her focus distant, never truly returning to him. Calling her name felt like the only way to bridge the growing void.“Do you want to go straight to bed?”Edgar guided her to their bedroom. Jeanne sat on the edge of the bed while he knelt before her, his gaze filled with quiet concern.He took her hands in his, searching for warmth that had long since slipped away. It should have meant something, but now it felt hollow. Jeanne might have once convinced herself she missed hi

Edgar reacted with the precision of instinct honed by years in the field. In one fluid motion, he intercepted the man’s wrist just as the blade came within inches of Jeanne. His grip was unrelenting, steel around flesh, forcing the attacker’s arm back with a sharp twist. The man stumbled, his body turning involuntarily as Edgar used his own momentum against him. With another calculated movement, Edgar wrenched the weapon free, the knife clattering harmlessly to the floor as gasps filled the lobby.Before the man could recover, Edgar spun him around and locked his arms behind his back, securing him with a practiced, effortless force. The would-be assailant grunted and struggled, but Edgar had already subdued stronger men with less effort. The tension only broke when a woman—young, breathless, and clearly shaken—rushed forward from the crowd.“Oh my God, my phone! My phone!” she cried, her voice frantic.Edgar, expression taut with focus, shoved his hand into the inside of the man’s hea