Sold To The Mafia Lord のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

The morning came with an unnatural stillness. The sun had only begun to bleed into the sky when Lucien rose, fully dressed before the rest of the house had woken. He stood by the window of his room, staring out across the estate grounds. The men were already moving, quietly, efficiently, just as he’d ordered.Behind him, Emilia stirred beneath the sheets, the faint rustle of silk against skin as she rolled over, half-asleep. Lucien’s eyes lingered on her reflection in the glass. She looked so peaceful, so unburdened in that moment. He hated the thought of leaving her, even temporarily.But this wasn’t a day for softness.A knock came on the door.Lucien turned. “Enter.”Julio stepped in, dressed in black from collar to boot. His expression was tight, the lines around his mouth sharper than usual.“We’re ready,” he said quietly. “Vehicles are in position. Perimeter is secured. All units accounted for.”Lucien nodded once. “Good.”Julio hesitated, then added, “Security on Emilia’s floor

The city blurred beyond the car windows, streaks of amber and dusk passing in silence. Lucien sat back against the leather seat, eyes sharp, hand resting against his jaw. His thoughts were already home, Emilia’s scent, her skin, the tension she’d left behind in the car like perfume on his tongue.The phone rang.Julio glanced at the screen and answered without hesitation. “Matteo.”Lucien turned slightly, his eyes narrowing.Julio listened, brows furrowed. Then, he held the phone toward Lucien. “You’ll want to take this.”Lucien didn’t speak until the phone touched his ear. “Talk.”Matteo’s voice came steady. “We have a visitor at the estate. Said he won’t leave until he speaks with you.”Lucien’s fingers curled around the phone. “Name.”“Raúl Navarro. Runs a syndicate out of the south, cross border routes, arms, narcotics, heavy bribes in local governments. Kept low until recently.”Lucien leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “He came without warning.”“Uninvited. Says

Lucien stalked the west wing with the fury of a storm caged in a man’s skin. Every hallway, every corner, every shadow was under his scrutiny. His men swept the estate with military precision, reports crackling through radios, but none of them said the only word he wanted to hear.Emilia.She had disappeared under his roof.Disappeared under his protection.Santiago’s warning hadn’t even cooled in his chest, and now this.Every step thundered with dread and rage. The moment he saw the camera feed glitch, Julio’s update, her form vanishing from the frame, something in him had cracked.And now, as he pushed through the far end of the west wing, his instincts flared.There.The scent of her perfume.Light. Faint. But real.Lucien rounded the last corner, and stopped dead in his tracks.She was walking toward him. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw him.Safe.Unharmed.Alive.“Emilia,” Lucien choked out.She smiled slowly at the sound of his voice, her expression surprised at first, then c

The estate of Santiago de la Cruz was not built for men like him.It loomed over the valley like a relic of a time before greed had names and crime wore silk. Old stone, iron gates, and a silence that whispered of blood soaked into the roots of the land. The guards didn’t search him when he arrived. They didn’t need to. Men like the Vulture didn’t get this far unless the king inside allowed it.He adjusted his cufflinks as he was led through arched corridors, past statues of saints and sinners, each one cracked by age or battle. Santiago’s legacy. Etched in stone. Revered in silence.The Vulture hated it.Because it reminded him of what he didn’t have.No name carved in marble. No bloodline. No sons who bore his mark. Just ambition and a tongue sharp enough to carve kingdoms from empires.He was ushered into a grand courtyard, where Santiago de la Cruz sat beneath an olive tree, dressed in linen and shadow, sipping espresso like a man who had never once spilled blood, though the world

Lucien had never trusted silence.Not the kind that filled a room after a storm, or the pause before a shot was fired, but the silence that came wrapped in civility. The kind that settled when too many men smiled at once. The kind Raúl Navarro carried with him wherever he went.Lucien sat in his office, eyes fixed on the fire crackling in the hearth, when the knock came.Julio entered, sharp as ever, though tension clung to his shoulders.“Navarro is here,” he said. “He’s asking to speak with you.”Lucien didn’t look up immediately. He reached for the tumbler of bourbon at his elbow, swirled it once, then finally turned his gaze to Julio. “That man shows up unannounced, as always. Did he say why he’s here?”“No. Only that it’s important, and that it concerns information you might want to hear.”That earned a slight shift in Lucien’s posture.Raúl Navarro didn’t come bearing gifts. If he was here, it was either to peddle lies or beg for crumbs.Lucien stood. “Send him in.”Julio nodded