บททั้งหมดของ Everyday For The Thief: A Chaotic and Poetic Mafia Romance : บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

That evening, Hades walked into his private, state-of-the-art gym, the heavy weight of the day still pressing on him.He needed to hit something. Hard. He stopped just inside the doorway.Claudine was already there, a burst of energy. She was in black workout clothes, her hair pulled back tight, sweat already shining on her skin.She had a colorful bandana tied around her head, keeping her short hair off her face.She was hitting a heavy punching bag, sending it swinging with surprising power.Boom!Thwack! She didn’t see or hear him, completely focused on her workout.Hades just watched her. His eyes traveled over her body, the muscles flexing under the tight fabric, the determined look on her face.A powerful feeling, hot and strong, hit him. He wanted her, badly. Even with all the stress, all the anger, she still managed to get under his skin. He kept his face cold, but inside, a fire was building.He finally walked forward, his footsteps on the rubber floor loud in the quiet gym.

The first day of the trial began under a dull London sky. Claudine stepped out of the black car and into a crowd of flashing cameras and hushed whispers. She was dressed in a sharp, dark grey suit, her hair low and curled. Every step was controlled, every move precise. She felt Hades's eyes on her, and the weight of the media's stare.The courtroom was a big, old space, full of history. Dark wood, high ceilings, rows of polished seats. She took her place at the defense table, giving a quick nod to Hades's legal team.The prosecution started quickly. Their opening words painted Hades Vancouver as a cruel boss who didn't care about local people. Their first witness was the main event: Mayor Thorne of Sheffield.Mayor Thorne, a man in his late fifties with styled grey hair and a serious face, took the stand. He spoke like an honest man. "The people of Sheffield," Thorne said, his voice full of practiced feeling, "have suffered because of Mr. Vancouver's carelessness.""Our air, our wate

6:05pmThe lounge area in his london safe house, usually Hades’s sanctuary of cold calculations, felt unsettled.He stood by the massive desk, a glass of dark whiskey in his hand, the Scottish content swirling as restlessly as his thoughts. The court victory over Mayor Thorne was satisfying, yes, but it was wifey who truly held his attention.Her sharp mind, her unexpected fire in court, her fierce defense of his interests—it all impressed him. And fuck! Her curves in those suits. It also rattled him. He was a king who built his empire on suspicion, never trust. But with his wife, something was shifting. He found himself liking her presence, the way she challenged him without breaking, the raw spark she ignited in him. A deep, undeniable possessiveness stirred.His secure phone buzzed, a sharp sound cutting through the quiet. It was Detective Marshal, the private investigator he’d hired long ago for two crucial missions: one, to dig into Claudine’s past, the ghost of “Mia”; and two,

A month had passed since the London court case, a strange blur of adapting to Hades’s suffocating presence and her own simmering rage. Life had found a weird rhythm. Claudine still spent her days at Mr. Greenwood’s new orphanage, elbow-deep in legal paperwork. It was a stark difference from the fancy estate, and she actually found some calm going over adoption papers and property deeds.“Honestly, Claud,” Svetlana said, pushing a stray hair from her face, a tiny ink smudge on her cheek. Svetlana, a quiet but sharp nurse, had become like a sister. “Sometimes I think these contracts are tougher than patching up a broken bone. Who knew taking care of kids needed so much... tiny writing?”Claudine gave a small laugh, leaning back in her creaky office chair. “Welcome to my world, Svetlana. It’s all about the small print. And trust me, if you miss a single dot, someone always gets dotted.” She paused, thinking of Hades and his threats. “Though I bet even here, some of these adoption forms p

Her mind reeled and screamed. His father. A best friend. Vanished. The Vancouvers hadn’t just made someone vanish, they had wiped away her entire family, the Kalashnikovs! She was supposed to be dead! If they had won, she wouldn’t even be here.And he’s here acting sad, talking about his pain? Fury, cold and absolute, surged through her. “There’s no forgiving,” her mind raged, echoing a Russian saying she knew well: “Прощения нет. Только возмездие.” (There is no forgiveness. Only retribution.) She would not rest or give up until she saw the Vancouver name vanish, and then her family, the Kalashnikovs, would get back the respect that had been stolen from them for over two decades.There was no forgiving this.Hades watched her, sensing her sudden stiffness. “You’re a feisty one, Zaya,” he observed, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “Always so... passionate.” He leaned back, the moment of vulnerability passing, replaced by his usual dominant aura. “Speaking of passions, I hav