All Chapters of Sold To The Mafia Lord: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow bleeding through the sheer curtains. The air still smelled faintly of smoke and iron. Lucien sat back in the armchair near the balcony, his muscles finally relaxing, Emilia’s scent still lingering on his skin.She had let him sleep. He didn’t deserve her patience.Now, quiet reigned,,until it didn’t.The door burst open with a crack loud enough to jolt Lucien to his feet. Julio stormed in, face dark, body taut with fury.Emilia was right behind him, barefoot, dressed in his shirt, her hair wild.“Julio…” she started.“Where is he?” Julio barked, eyes scanning the room before landing on Lucien. “We need to talk.”Lucien moved closer, chest already tight. “Talk then.”Julio’s jaw clenched. “Alone.”Lucien shot a look at Emilia. She stood still, wary but composed. “She stays.”“Lucien..."“I trust her.”Julio’s nostrils flared, but he nodded stiffly. “Fine.”He stalked further in, stopping in the center of the room like he owned the damn floor.

The sun had barely climbed over the hills when Lucien found him.Julio sat on the crumbling stone bench just beyond the olive grove, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. Morning light painted the world gold, but there was no warmth in it, just the kind of silence that followed grief and betrayal.Lucien didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to.Julio didn’t look up as Lucien approached, but he shifted slightly, just enough to make space beside him. It was all the invitation Lucien needed.He sat down, their shoulders nearly brushing, the tension still heavy between them.For a long while, neither spoke.The only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant clang of hammers from the estate, where the wounded walls were being rebuilt, like everything else.Julio took a long drag of his cigarette, then held it out toward Lucien, offering it without a word.Lucien stared at the smoke curling upward before shaking his head. “Emilia hates the smell.”Julio snorted

Julio had left. The room was quiet now, but the storm hadn’t left him.Lucien stood at the window, one hand braced on the frame. Midnight had passed hours ago. The estate had gone still, what wasn’t already broken had been patched for now. But inside him, everything still buzzed.He heard her before he saw her.Bare feet. A soft shuffle behind him.Lucien turned his head just enough to see her standing in the bathroom doorway, wrapped in one of his black shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair was tousled, face bare, eyes sharp even in the low light. “You should go to bed,” he said.“You too.”He didn’t answer.Emilia crossed to him slowly, her fingers grazing the edge of the table where they’d spent hours plotting a silent war. She stopped beside him, close, but not touching.“I thought maybe I’d find you drinking,” she said softly.“I thought about it.”“But you didn’t.”Lucien shook his head. “Didn’t want to be foggy when someone’s watching us.”“Still no sign?”He exhaled. “

The halls whispered like always, quiet servants, polished marble, shadows that moved just a second too late. Emilia remembered days she used to just like the servants, moving like shadows, and serving men’s who looked like they can pounce on you at any moment. Emilia had grown used to listening with more than just her ears. It was the silences that gave people away. The pause when someone recognized her, the shift in posture, the way eyes darted to others before answering.She was on her usual route again, her silent game of spy. But she felt as if they should be doing more if there is a mole on the inside but Julio and Lucien are doing more and they cannot trust anyone else. She turned the corner into the kitchen wing, expecting the usual rhythm of pots clanging, knives chopping, kitchen staff murmuring behind cupped hands.Instead, everything slowed.The scent of baking bread didn’t quite cover the tension that thickened the air. A few kitchen hands went stiff at the sight of her,

The evening air in the estate felt heavier than usual.Emilia stood by the window, watching the last brushstrokes of sunlight fade behind the stone walls. Even here, where Lucien said she was safest, shadows seemed to creep faster than they should. She had grown used to the silence, the isolation. It didn’t bother her anymore. Not really. She had simply learned to exist within it.But tonight… something had changed.Footsteps. His.The lock clicked open. The door creaked softly, and Lucien stepped inside.He didn’t speak at first. He closed the door behind him with a quiet finality, as if shutting out the weight of the world. His tie hung loose around his neck, the sharp lines of his suit wrinkled, as though he’d been pulling at them all day.His shoulders looked heavier than usual.“Lucien?” Emilia’s voice cut through the silence. She turned to face him, her heartbeat already quickening, not from fear, but from the sharp, restless energy radiating off him.He dragged a hand through hi