Semua Bab Falling For My Ex's Mafia Dad : Bab 51 - Bab 60

“I said, what are you doing?” Damian repeated, his voice low but firm. Aria clutched the ointment in her hand. “I want to treat your back,” she said gently. “That’s not required. I’m fine,” Damian replied, turning away. “No, you’re not,” she whispered. “I know you’re hurting.” Damian looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. She took a small step closer and added, “Please…” He seemed to hesitate, his jaw tightening, but after a moment he silently walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Aria exhaled softly and moved behind him. As she applied the ointment to the bruises on his back, her fingers moved carefully, gently, like she was trying to soothe more than just the physical pain. Her heart fluttered as he allowed her to care for him. When she finished, she stepped back and asked quietly, “Does that feel better?” He gave her a small nod. She nodded in return, trying to mask the emotion in her eyes. Aria set the first aid kit aside and walked to the close

The maid gave a respectful nod after Aria finished speaking and walked away, her footsteps fading down the hallway. Aria let out a quiet breath and turned toward the kitchen. Her throat was dry, and she needed water, if only to cool the sudden heat that had crept into her chest since the breakfast table incident. Damian’s small gesture still lingered in her mind, even though she tried to push it aside. She entered the kitchen and went straight to the counter, reaching for a glass and filling it with water from the jug. As she raised the glass to her lips, she sensed it. That presence. The faint shift of air. A step. She slowly turned, and startled. Marco stood just behind her, closer than necessary, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable. She stepped back instinctively, the glass in her hand trembling slightly. Her mind flashed to that night—Damian’s cold fury when he’d caught Marco near her. She couldn’t let something like that happen again. “Is there a problem, Marco?

The whip dropped from Damian’s hand, landing on the floor with a quiet thud. The room was deathly silent, all eyes on the man now breathing raggedly at his feet. “You came for who?” Damian’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it was laced with menace. The man coughed again, blood spattering on the polished floor. “Aria…” he repeated, wincing from the pain. “They want her… alive.” Damian’s jaw clenched. He turned to his men. “Take him to the basement. Don’t let him die. I want him conscious.” Two guards immediately grabbed the man and hauled him away. Damian remained standing in the center of the room, staring at the bloodstains like they held the answer to a puzzle he hadn’t realized he was trying to solve. Who would dare come after Aria? And why? He turned sharply and stormed out of the study. His thoughts were racing, and for once, they weren’t about territory or alliances. They were about her. --- Aria sat curled up on the edge of her bed, her arms wrapped around her kn

Damian stood over the battered intruder, his piercing gaze locking onto the man’s face as beads of sweat dripped down his bruised skin. The faint flicker of the dim basement lights cast harsh shadows that danced across the walls, turning the scene into something sinister and heavy with unspoken threats. Damian’s jaw clenched tightly, but his voice remained calm, cold, measured. “Why her? Why target Aria?” he demanded. “What makes her so important to you?” The man coughed, struggling to stay conscious as the pounding in his head grew worse. A cruel, almost mocking chuckle escaped his cracked lips. “Because… she’s close to you,” the intruder rasped, voice barely audible. “You’re the real prize, Damian. She’s just… the door.” Damian’s eyes narrowed sharply, his heart skipping a beat despite himself. “When was the mark put on her?” he asked again, his voice lower but filled with urgency. The man’s eyes fluttered, his breathing ragged. His lips quivered as if struggling to push out th

The air in the room was tense. Aria lay motionless on the bed, her breathing shallow but steady. Damian sat beside her, his eyes fixed on her pale face, still damp with sweat. Marco stood near the door, arms crossed, his brows furrowed in concern. Lyla lingered quietly in a corner, shaken by what she'd witnessed — Aria’s sudden outburst, the guttural scream, the chaos. Moments later, the doctor arrived, a middle-aged man with graying temples and calm eyes. He carried his medical bag and moved swiftly to Aria’s side. “She fainted,” Damian said without looking away from her. “I want a full check-up. Now.” The doctor nodded and began his examination, checking her vitals, reflexes, eyes, and breathing. He opened his bag, pulled out a small flashlight, and tested her pupils. Then he placed a stethoscope against her chest and listened carefully. Damian stood behind him, arms folded, a storm of thoughts brewing in his mind. After several minutes, the doctor straightened. “She’s physica