Semua Bab The Substitute Bride of the Ruthless Mafia Boss: Bab 71 - Bab 80

The warehouse loomed like a rotting carcass, its windows shattered and bleeding moonlight. Julia stood at the center, her black bob slick as oil under the flickering fluorescents. Dawson knelt at her feet, his face swollen and unrecognizable. Valerie whistled low. “Drama queen much?” Ace’s hand brushed mine as we stepped inside, a silent question. I jerked away. “Took you long enough,” Julia purred, her honey-brown eyes glinting. “I was starting to think you’d let dear Uncle Dawson bleed out.” Dawson spat blood. “Don’t… do it, Brie.” Julia kicked him silent. “Enough. Where’s my key?” Ace stepped forward, his voice steel. “Let him go first.” “Still giving orders?” She laughed. “You’re not the king here anymore, Ace. Just a washed-up ghost.” Valerie flipped a knife in her palm. “Can I stab her yet?” “Patience,” Esther muttered, her gaze scanning the shadows. Julia snapped her

The silence in the safehouse kitchen was the kind that crawled under your skin and stayed there. The fridge hummed. Valerie’s chips crunched obnoxiously loud. And me? I stared at the steam rising from a chipped mug like it held answers I didn’t want. Esther finally spoke, breaking the quiet. “You know it’s not over.” I didn’t look up. “It never is.” Valerie tossed her bag of chips on the counter. “Okay, can we not do the doom and gloom thing before 9 a.m.? I haven’t had caffeine and someone almost died yesterday. Again.” Dawson limped in, still cradling his splinted arm. “We’re living in a mafia war zone, Val. Doom and gloom’s king of the aesthetic.” She pointed at him. “You’re not funny.” He shrugged. “I’m in pain.” “Then sit down and stop looking like a broken action figure,” Esther muttered, flipping open her laptop. Ace was the last to appear, his buzz cut still damp from a too-fast shower, eyes heavy like he hadn’t slept. He looked at me first. He always did now.

No. That was the only word I could manage, and even then, it sounded like someone else had spoken it. Like I was outside myself. Watching. The vault air was still too cold. The light from the screen flickered across my father's face like it was trying to erase him. Make him unreal. But he didn’t disappear. “You were part of this,” I said finally, voice low. “You let them do this to me?” “I protected you,” he said. Calm. Too calm. “You think you’re here by accident? You think I didn’t plan every second of your life up until this moment?” “Wow,” Valerie muttered. “Dad of the year.” “Shut up, Val,” I snapped, too raw to be polite. “I get it,” she said, backing off. “Trauma first, sarcasm later.” I turned back to him. “If you planned my life, why disappear? Why fake your death? Why leave me with ghosts and riddles and a vault that’s apparently a prison?”

Ace’s voice was hard now. “Then they find out how badly they miscalculated.” “Not to make this about me,” Valerie added, “but I really want to punch someone.” “We all do,” I said. I stood slowly, brushing dirt off my jeans. The fire crackled, the wind died down, and for a second, the world didn’t feel like it was ending. “Tomorrow,” I said. “We go after the next site.” “Which one?” Esther asked. “There’s one near Brookline. Hidden beneath an old water treatment plant.” “Because of course there is,” Dawson muttered. I met Ace’s eyes. “You with me?” “Always.” Valerie raised her hand. “I’ll drive. Dibs on the aux cord.” “God help us,” Esther mumbled. As we settled for the night, the stars above us felt less like watchers and more like witnesses. To who I’d been. To who I was beco

The hallway was too clean.Too white.Too wrong.I kept my back straight, even though my knees were doing that annoying, unreliable thing where they felt like noodles. Esther was the first to move, stepping carefully into the sterile corridor like she’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe she had.“We’re being watched,” she said quietly.“No shit,” Valerie muttered, eyes darting around.I could barely hear my own thoughts over the buzz of panic in my ears. That voice. That stupid calm voice. “Welcome back, Brielle.”Back. Like I’d been here before. Like I belonged here.Ace’s hand never left my wrist.“Brielle,” he said, low enough only I could hear. “Focus on me.”I looked up. Met those ocean eyes. The chaos dulled.“I’m okay,” I whispered.“Liar.”But he let go of my wrist, gave me space.“We need a plan,” Dawson said, eyeing the ceiling. “If that voice k