All Chapters of Sold To The Mafia Lord: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The sheets were cold when Emilia woke. Lucien was gone. No footsteps. No whispered goodbye. Just the scent of his cologne lingering faintly in the pillows and a shirt draped over the armchair by the window. She sat up slowly, letting the silence crawl over her skin like a second layer. It was still early, maybe 7 a.m., maybe earlier. But the air already felt off. Like something had shifted again. She reached toward the side of the bed he had occupied just hours ago, brushing her fingers over the indentation left behind. He’d held her through the night. She remembered the way his hand had rested low on her back, warm and steady, the rare beat of vulnerability in his voice when he whispered, “I don’t want to lose you.” And yet, he left. Quietly. Without a word. That’s who he was, wasn’t he? Emilia slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom, wrapping one of the silk robes around her body. As she brushed her hair in front of the mirror, she tried not to feel that familiar sting in h

The house didn’t feel like a home anymore. It never really had, but there was a time it had held the illusion of one, a place where silence could be restful and not suffocating, where the air didn’t always taste like secrets.Now it felt like a waiting room for something that hadn’t yet broken.Emilia wandered into the back garden after breakfast, more out of habit than desire. The sky was overcast. A gentle breeze moved through the roses lining the marble railing, and somewhere beyond the tall hedges, she could hear the low hum of the estate’s security detail moving in their quiet rhythm.She wasn’t supposed to be alone out here.Which meant, of course, that she wasn’t.She heard the soft crunch of gravel behind her before she turned.Matteo.He was dressed casually today, well, casual for a soldier: a dark grey shirt rolled up at the sleeves, black slacks, gun holstered, always near but never loud. He stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets.“I figured you might want some air,”

He didn’t announce his return.No one expected him back until nightfall, but the meeting had ended early, and the drive home was quiet,?too quiet. His mind, usually sharp and relentless, had dulled to static somewhere between the third call from Julio and the final bullet he’d pulled from a traitor’s shoulder.He was tired. Not the kind of tired sleep could cure. The kind that lived in the bones. That came from carrying too much, for too long, and refusing to drop any of it.The front door opened with a soft groan. No one met him. No one rushed to inform the house.Good. He didn’t want fanfare.He wanted…He paused. Laughter.Faint, light, echoing through the corridor from the back of the house.Not many people laughed here. Not truly.He followed the sound like a scent, silent through the halls, past the west study, past the stillness of the dining room.The back door was cracked open.Through it, the training yard came into view.And so did she.Emilia.Hair tied up. Shirt clinging t

Lucien entered without knocking. without announcement.The doors to the old council room were built to intimidate, dark oak, twice the width of a man, but they swung open on his push, groaning across marble. The room beyond smelled of stale cigar smoke and the faint, iron tang of old blood sunk deep into wood grain.Sunlight poured through tall, dust frosted windows, slicing the space into bands of light and shadow. It illuminated the long mahogany table in the center, the polished surface gleaming like still water.Eight men sat there. Waiting. Watching.He knew every man here. Knew their debts, their grudges, their ambitions. Knew which ones were willing to slit a throat for coin, and which ones would slit it just to feel the warm rush between their fingers.Julio moved in behind Lucien and took his place at the wall just over his right shoulder, silent, solid, the way a right hand should be. He never sat. Never relaxed. His presence was a quiet reminder that Lucien didn’t walk into

Lucien’s mood was a storm that didn’t pass with the closing of the council doors.It followed him down the marble steps of the old building, past the long shadows stretching across the courtyard, all the way to the car.Julio was a silent shadow at his side, his jaw clenched tight, his usual easy smirk gone.Neither man spoke.They didn’t need to.The meeting’s stench still clung to Lucien, arrogance, opportunism, that particular smell of men who thought they’d sniffed out weakness.The gunpowder scent from the single shot he’d fired lingered in his memory, as vivid as the bright splash of blood across polished wood.Julio slid into the driver’s seat without a word. The engine’s low growl filled the air as they pulled out into the night.Lucien leaned back, watching the city blur past in the window’s reflection.Every streetlight lit his face for a heartbeat, then left him in shadow again.The rhythm matched his thoughts, flashes of faces from that table. Santiago’s stillness. Dario’s