Semua Bab Married to my Dad's Billionaire Mafia Friend: Bab 51 - Bab 60

Sophia’s POVASHER'S HOSPITAL “Just be calm,” Dr. Asher said gently as I was rolled into the scanning chamber. My body was trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the quiet intensity in Leonard’s gaze as he held my hand. The machine buzzed and clicked softly, a low hum surrounding me as I was pulled inside. Leonard’s hand slipped from mine due to the mechanism, but his eyes never left mine—watchful, concerned, protective. He gave me a small nod, the kind that says: I’m here. You’ll be alright. When the machine finally stopped and I was pulled out, I was greeted by Nurse Lynda’s warm smile and Dr. Asher’s calm face. Leonard was already by my side, helping me sit up and holding my shoulders with such care, it surprised even the nurse. “How is she?” he asked immediately. “Thankfully, she’s fine,” Dr. Asher replied. “No internal injuries or damage were detected. Just slight dehydration and exhaustion.” Leonard’s arms pulled me into his chest before the doctor could even finish.

MORANO'S WOOD COMPANY In the vast, cathedral-like boardroom of Morano’s Wood Company, the scent of pine and espresso floated through the air. Behind a massive mahogany table, under a hunting trophy of a wild boar’s head, Leonard Morano sat like a warlord masked in designer elegance—his tailored navy suit molded to his broad shoulders, his fingers twirling a black Montblanc pen as if deciding which part of the world to sign away next. A satellite map of the Apennine mountain forests spread before him, covered in red markers and shipping lanes. His voice, low and gravelly, broke the heavy silence. “You see these trees?” he said, tapping the map twice. “They’re not for hugging. They’re for turning into euros.” He gestured to the cluster of forests near Tuscany and Lazio. “The Germans pay triple for ‘organic’ oak flooring. My friends in Bulgaria will ‘certify’ anything with a digital stamp and a bottle of rakia. Any moralists here?” His eyes scanned the room until they landed on the

MORANO’S MANSION — MEETING ROOM"It's unlike you to call for an urgent meeting," said Gavin Slade, the eldest among them. His voice was gruff, steady, carrying decades of experience and suspicion.The room was dim but grand, bathed in golden light that streamed from the ornate chandelier above. The walls, lined with dark walnut and gold accents, echoed quiet power and silent threats. Five men sat at a round table, each one representing power, wealth, and ruthlessness in their own territories.Leonard, seated at the head of the table like a king on his throne, adjusted his posture slightly. His bespoke suit hugged his powerful frame, and his fingers twirled a Montblanc pen between them—slow, deliberate, dangerous."I have my reasons," he said, his tone neither warm nor cold—just absolute."Well then," said Mateo Reyes, with his fingers drumming lightly on the polished wood table. "We're here. You’ve got our ears."Leonard didn’t waste time. “Gentlemen, thank you for gathering here toda

SOPHIA’S POVMORANO’S HALLWe reached the grand staircase. Below, the great MORANO Hall glowed in golden candlelight. The vast room, usually intimidating in its cold grandeur, now shimmered like something out of a forbidden fairytale. Everything was draped in black—from the tablecloths to the chandeliers’ hanging ribbons. Even the floral arrangements were made of black roses and obsidian-hued lilies. A single question echoed in my mind as I took it all in:Is this why it's called a black wedding?All the guests were standing. The men, dressed in sleek black tuxedos, looked like shadows that had stepped out of another world. The women wore dark silks in various textures—lace, satin, velvet—each one of them a silent tribute to the depth of tradition we were walking into. There was no laughter here, no squeals like the ones you hear at ordinary weddings. Just anticipation—thick, rich, and heavy.I scanned the room slowly, my eyes seeking and searching until they found him.Leonard.He st

Sophia’s POV“Ahhhh, my head hurts,” I murmured, a dull ache pounding through my skull. The soft breeze blew the curtain aside, letting the morning sun slip through the window, casting its golden rays across the room. The light hit my eyes, making me squint as I tried to adjust. My body ached, every muscle sore, and I could still feel the aftermath of the night before. Slowly, I realized I was naked, with only the white duvet loosely covering my lower body.I turned to my side, trying to suppress the tinge of embarrassment creeping up my neck. Leonard was still sleeping peacefully beside me, his chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of a deep, contented slumber. He looked… different this morning. The fierce intensity that usually radiated from him in waking hours was gone. His features were softened, relaxed, almost innocent in their vulnerability. His biceps, defined and strong, flexed ever so slightly as he lay there, one arm draped lazily across the pillow.I couldn’t help