KIDNAPPED BY THE SILVER MAFIA DON のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

I awaken with a startled breath, my chest heaving up and down swiftly. My heart races within my chest as I rise from bed, clutching the blankets. My body feels heated, my hands sweaty, and for a brief moment, I find it hard to distinguish reality from the dream I just experienced. A vision. No, it seemed too genuine. I shut my eyes tightly, attempting to remember every detail. The gentle light of golden chandeliers, the sound of voices gradually disappearing as I remained in the center of an elegant ballroom. My gown was white, lengthy, and draped softly like silk on my skin. And afterward- Raymond. He stood before me, his tailored suit fitting his form impeccably. His gaze-deep, powerful, fixed solely on me. His face contained an emotion I had never encountered before. Weakness. He then knelt down on one knee. "Gracie," his voice resonated in my thoughts. "I'm unsure how this occurred, but I can't imagine a future without you." "Wed me." The recollection causes my breath to c

Weekends at Raymond's estate are meant to be peaceful. A moment for whiskey, quietness, and tactics. However, that is not the case today. Today is the day Sasha arrives. And she is on a mission. The Tempest Approaches The loud click-clack of high heels striking the floor echoes through the hallway. I am nestled in the lounge, holding a book, yet I don't have to glance up to recognize who it is. Due to the changes in the air. As if a thundercloud has just arrived in the room. The double doors burst open, vibrating the walls. I recoil. Raymond hardly responds. Then- RAYMOND! "YOU CRUEL CREATURE!" Sasha bursts in, her flowing blonde curls swinging, her red dress fitting flawlessly, her gold earrings sparkling in the light. Her designer handbag sways uncontrollably, almost toppling a pricey vase. She is indifferent. She is enraged. And she is arriving for Raymond. Raymond stands in the doorway, tranquil as always. His black shirt is a bit unbuttoned, his sleeves are r

I'm not sure how much time has passed while I've been curled up on my bed, yet my body feels numb. Tears stream down my face, warm and never-ending, saturating the material of my pillow. My chest heaves irregularly as sobs shake me, my mind swirling with thoughts I wish to avoid. I accomplished this. I am responsible for this. Raymond left Sasha because of my actions. I close my eyes tightly, yet the visions persist. The treachery in Sasha's tone. The utter anguish in her eyes when she understood that Raymond opted to depart instead of staying with her. And what is the reason? Due to my actions. An inmate. An unknown person. I grip the pillow more firmly, folding inward, attempting to vanish. Sasha could be immature. She could be theatrical. However, ultimately, she had love for him. She battled for him. And he turned and left her. For my part. A new surge of tears fills my eyes, and I release a suppressed sob, clutching my chest as if I can literally keep myself intact.

The initial sound I perceive is music. Not the gentle, remote melody of a tune coming from the radio. No, this is boisterous, forceful, intense-a fusion of trumpets, drums, and voices merging into a magnificent symphony that shakes the surrounding atmosphere. My eyelids blink open, and for a brief moment, I'm trapped between the blurred traces of slumber and the strange reality before me. The door opens wide. The unexpected light bursts in, exposing a procession of musicians entering my room. The profound, resonant thump of the drum reverberates in my chest, the victorious sound of trumpets cuts through the air, and a vocalist's voice ascends above everything else. "Wishing you a joyful birthday!" The noise is overwhelming, yet I hardly register it. Due to the emptiness of my mind. Totally and absolutely empty. I rise, the gentle sheets gathering around me, my breath catching as my eyes scan the room. And that's when I notice it. The sheer opulence-the stunning view-renders

Raymond arrives late that evening, his arrival resembling a tempest battering the estate's walls. I can hear his footsteps before I spot him, heavy and intentional, resembling a person bearing the burden of a hundred wrongdoings on his back. Upon entering the room, his shirt bears stains-not from wine, nor from ink, but from blood. I become immobile. Not that I'm unaccustomed to this view, but each time I see him in this manner, it triggers my memories. It makes me remember who he is. What he performs. Whom I am falling for. Initially, he ignores me, going directly to the whiskey decanter at the bar and pouring a glass with the effortless skill of someone who has done this countless times. The space between us grows tense like a bind. I inhale unsteadily. "Did you... commit another murder tonight?" Raymond halts his drink momentarily, his gaze darting toward me. His face remains unchanged, yet the room's temperature decreases. He places his glass down gently with a subtle c