All Chapters of Sold To The Mafia Lord: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The night air clung to Emilia’s skin like a second shadow. The iron gates of Lucien’s mansion closed behind her with a sound that felt final, like the last line of a vow she hadn’t meant to make. Rosa’s keys were cold in her pocket, and the bundle of bills pressed against her ribs, heavier than gold.For a moment she stood frozen, her heart pounding in her throat. She had never stepped outside these walls without Lucien by her side, without guards trailing at her back. Freedom was not sweet, it was terrifying.The street stretched wide and empty beneath the pale light of the moon. Trees shivered with a midnight breeze, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Emilia pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, lowered her head, and began to walk.Every crunch of gravel beneath her shoes sounded like an alarm bell. Every flicker of movement in the shadows made her stomach knot. She kept expecting Lucien’s voice to cut through the silence, to hear the sharp clap of his shoes on the

The drive was a blur of shadows and jolts. Emilia had tried to count the turns, tried to mark the rhythm of the city against the car’s speed, but with her head forced down and a black hood covering her vision, she could only cling to fragments: the rough smell of leather, the hum of tires, the occasional barked orders in clipped Italian.Every second stretched into dread.Her wrists were bound lightly, not tight enough to cut circulation but firm enough to remind her of her helplessness. That unsettled her more than rough treatment would have. Whoever had taken her wanted her unharmed. Wanted her whole.Wanted her alive.The thought carved deeper into her chest with each passing minute.At last, the car slowed. Gravel crunched beneath the tires, and then the engine cut off. Hands grabbed her roughly, pulling her out. The night air hit her like a slap, cool, scented faintly with salt, as though the sea wasn’t far away.“Walk,” a man’s voice ordered.She stumbled forward, guided by stron

The sky was paling when Emilia slipped back through the garden gate. Dew clung to the grass, the cool dampness seeping through her slippers as she hurried across the lawn. Rosa’s hand was firm at her elbow, guiding her through the shadows with a precision that betrayed years of knowing this house better than her own soul.“Quiet now,” Rosa whispered, her breath fogging in the dawn chill. “Los guardias will make their rounds soon.” Emilia nodded, her chest tight. Every second out here felt stolen, every breath a betrayal. She had not slept. Her mind replayed Dario’s face, his smooth voice, the way he had spoken of Lucien, of the Vulture, of choices she wasn’t ready to make. Her pulse thrummed with the weight of it all.Rosa pulled her into the side corridor that led toward the servants’ wing. There were fewer patrols here; the guards focused on the gates and main entrances. They moved swiftly, slipping past a yawning maid, ducking into the laundry passage, and finally stopping outside

The study in Dario Vescari’s estate smelled of smoke and secrets. Shadows clung to the corners like patient soldiers, the kind that never truly left a room even when the light chased them away. The fire in the hearth hissed against damp wood, throwing bursts of amber across the shelves lined with old leather tomes and crystal decanters.Dario leaned against his desk, glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, staring at the flames as if the answers to his growing unease might rise from the smoke. He had been waiting nearly an hour, though the man he was waiting for never moved by anyone’s clock but his own.The air shifted. A rustle, soft as silk. He knew before turning that his guest had arrived.The Vulture.He did not announce himself. He never did. He seemed to appear rather than enter, cloaked in black, face obscured beneath the shadow of his hood. Only his voice carried weight, that low rasp that cut through silence like a blade through silk.“You look restless, Dario.”Dario set hi

The halls of the Moretti estate lay heavy with silence, the kind of silence that made every step feel like a trespass. Emilia slipped through them with careful precision, her fingers brushing the wall as though the touch could anchor her trembling nerves. She had done this before, crept out under the cloak of night with Rosa at her side, but tonight felt different. Heavier.Rosa waited near the back door, arms folded, shawl drawn close against the chill. Her eyes, sharp as knives, tracked Emilia’s every movement. “You’re late,” she muttered.“I couldn’t risk being seen,” Emilia whispered back.Rosa opened the door, and the night air swallowed them whole. The garden smelled of damp earth, roses closing themselves against the dark.Every step she took toward the world outside this mansion was another thread pulling her away from Lucien.They moved in silence until the estate walls were nothing but shadows behind them. Then Rosa stopped. She turned abruptly, blocking the path, and fixed Em