Lahat ng Kabanata ng Sold To The Mafia Lord: Kabanata 161 - Kabanata 170

The de la Cruz estate was a relic, built into the cliffs of San Marcos like the bones of an ancient god. High walls of crumbling stone guarded it from the world, draped with wild ivy that clawed toward the iron gates, gates older than most of the men who now stood with rifles at their sides. The sea raged far below, crashing against the cliffs, its roar echoing like the ghosts of the dead who once knelt before the de la Cruz throne.Inside, Santiago de la Cruz still lived as if the world had not changed. The chandeliers still burned low with golden light. The portraits of his ancestors, emperors of the underworld, stared down from the walls with judgment and pride. Their eyes seemed to follow him as he crossed the marble hall, cane clicking against the stone.He had been expecting the visitor.The man who stepped into his hall was draped in black. No guards, no escort, no weapons drawn. He moved with the quiet arrogance of someone who feared nothing, not even the devil himself.“El bui

Julio parked his car outside Kira’s apartment, the street quiet except for the faint hum of traffic. He didn’t hurry. Every step toward her door was measured, controlled, the kind of precision he applied to everything in his life. But beneath it all, a subtle tug of anticipation had him tightening his grip on the doorframe as he rang the bell.Kira opened the door almost immediately, eyes widening at the sight of him. He didn’t smile. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t explain. He just stepped inside, letting the door click softly behind him.“You came,” she said. Her voice was light, almost hesitant, but it carried a weight he understood.“I needed to,” he said simply, sliding his jacket off his shoulders. He let it drop over the back of a chair, a silent claim on the space. “Stay in.”Her brow lifted. “Stay in?”“Yes,” he replied, his tone flat, calm, yet deliberate. “The city can wait. The world can wait. I want the next… couple of days… to be uninterrupted.”She studied him, caught in the un

The first thing Emilia felt was him.Lucien’s presence pressed against her back like a weight she both craved and resented. The bed dipped under his body, his warmth bleeding into hers until she could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.She didn’t open her eyes. Not yet. Not when her heart already recognized the rhythm of his breathing, steady, commanding, threaded with that quiet danger that always lived in his silence.His hand traced the line of her thigh, unhurried, deliberate, claiming. Not gentle. Not apologetic. Just his.A shiver rippled through her as his palm moved higher, the roughness of his touch a cruel reminder of how easily he could undo her. Her body betrayed her first, the soft gasp, the arch of her spine, long before her mind caught up.He hadn’t said a word. He didn’t need to.The air between them burned with everything they refused to speak, guilt, need, defiance, and that sharp edge of something that had long stopped being hate.Emilia’s lashes f

The silence in the Moretti estate felt heavier than usual that morning. It wasn’t the stillness of peace, it was the kind that followed something violent, something shifting in the shadows. Emilia could feel it in her bones. The air was tense, metallic, humming with something unspoken.Lucien had left before the morning light came on, the echo of his footsteps as a thr king still carved into her mind. One moment, his hands were on her, rough, claiming, burning through her restraint, and the next, the knock came, the name Raul Navarro sliced through the haze, and he was gone.Now, the room felt too big. Too cold.Emilia paced, barefoot on the marble floor, her silk robe brushing against her thighs. The scent of him still lingered, smoke and cedarwood and something darker. She hated how her body still reacted to it. How her pulse skipped each time she thought of his mouth on her skin.Stop it, she told herself, shaking her head. You’re not one of his possessions.But even as she said it

The war room smelled of gun oil, smoke, and fear. The kind of air that burned when you breathed it in, thick with tension and loyalty about to be tested.Lucien stood at the head of the long oak table, hands braced on the wood, eyes fixed on the map of the city sprawled before him. Red pins marked the Moretti territories, black ones marked their enemies. A new cluster of black now sat where none had been before, San Marcos.Santiago de la Cruz.Lucien’s jaw flexed as Raul Navarro’s voice cut through the silence. “He called for them. Every family. Every house that still breathes under the old code.”Lucien didn’t move. He didn’t blink. “You’re sure?”Raul nodded once. “My men confirmed it this morning after I recieved mine. De la Cruz has summoned the syndicate. He’s calling for your crown.”The room went still.One of the younger lieutenants shifted uncomfortably, the sound of his boots echoing too loud. “Sir, if this is true..."Lucien’s glare silenced him.It wasn’t the kind of look