Married to my Dad's Billionaire Mafia Friend のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

MORANO'S MANSION – Leonard's Office"Mmmm." Leonard heaved a sigh of relief—or perhaps frustration—as he sat restlessly in the dimly lit office. The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, but his mind was louder. On the table before him lay a single phone, its screen now dark, but moments ago it had shown him everything he needed. Photos of Sophia—his Sophia—with Conrad. Holding hands. Sitting together in class. Laughing.He slowly slid to the next picture. It was a video. The audio was faint, but the visuals were unmistakable. Sophia stood in front of a hallway, nervously biting her lip before confessing her feelings to Conrad. Her voice cracked with emotion. Leonard’s jaw clenched, his shoulders stiff.The shadows in the room danced across his face, concealing the boiling rage behind his usually impassive eyes. His fingers flexed slightly, then relaxed as he heard the door creak open.“You called for me?” Sophia asked lightly, her voice breaking the tension as she walke

Sophia's POV PROM NIGHT HALL "Why is Conrad still hovering around you? I hate his guts," Mercy hissed, arms folded and eyes scanning the room with distaste. "I blame myself for being lenient with him," I replied, my voice sharp with regret. "He sent me a text saying he wanted us to meet, and like a fool, I agreed. I told him we could just be friends. But today..." My words trailed off as the anger swelled in my chest. The memory of what he whispered earlier haunted me. "I don't mind sharing." Those four words sliced through my heart like a serrated blade. My fists clenched as the pain bubbled beneath my ribs. Who did he think he was? All I wanted now was to go home—to Leonard. I needed to tell him everything. Conrad was toying with fire, and he had no idea how dangerous the consequences could be. I walked with Mercy, each step heavy with boiling rage, and sat at one of the tables arranged near the stage. "Did you tell him that you're married now?" Mercy asked, voice l

Sophia's POV I slowly opened my eyes, the bright light piercing through my brain like a sharp knife. I winced, raising a hand to my forehead. My head was pounding, and my mouth felt dry. As I looked around, I realized I was in a guest room, but I had no idea how I got there.Turning to my side, I saw Mercy lying beside me, fast asleep. Her arm was draped lazily over a pillow, and her hair was a tangled mess across her face. I gently shook her shoulder."Hey, wake up," I whispered, my voice hoarse.Mercy stirred, rubbing her eyes slowly. "What's going on?" she mumbled."Where are we?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice.Mercy sat up and looked around the room. She ran a hand through her tangled hair. "We're in the department's guest room. You got drunk last night, and I brought you here to crash."I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her words. The party. The dance. The wine. The performance. Then the spinning. The blurred vision. I remembered trying to call Leonard... and th

“La-la-la!” Victoria twirled around the table, a glass of red wine in one hand, a cigarette lazily releasing curls of smoke in the other. Her movements were slow, almost hypnotic, like she was savoring each second of her little victory. On the table, scattered like a deck of cursed playing cards, lay photographs—grainy yet clear enough to speak volumes. Each one captured Sophia and Conrad in compromising positions. Some were too close for comfort, others blurry yet damning enough to shatter a reputation. Victoria stopped mid-spin and gazed down at the pictures with a triumphant smirk. The door creaked open, and Thelma’s sharp voice sliced through the air. “What’s got you so happy, sister?” Without answering, Victoria pointed at the table, her red-polished nails tapping on the photographs. She blew a long stream of smoke from her lips, watching it drift towards the ceiling like a silent whisper. Thelma’s heels clicked against the tiled floor as she approached. She picked u

Sophia’s POVDinner felt like a silent battlefield.Leonard sat at the head of the long, gleaming dining table, his posture as straight and imposing as ever. I was to his right, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, yet the space between us felt like a mile. On his left sat Logan, who kept darting glances between us like a referee waiting for the first punch.I kept my eyes on my plate, but every now and then, I’d catch Leonard looking at me—sharp, probing, unreadable. And then I’d quickly look away before his gaze could pierce through my thoughts.Nobody said a word. Even the clink of cutlery against porcelain felt loud in the heavy quiet.The door to the dining room opened, and Grace walked in with Maria. They were carrying silver trays, each piled with steaming plates of osso buco alla Milanese—veal shanks slow-braised in white wine, saffron, and butter, the kind of Italian dish that made the air feel richer the moment it entered the room.“Food is ready. Sorry for ke