Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

The days blurred together.Three mornings of waking up alone, with only the pale light leaking through the curtains to remind me time was still moving forward. Three afternoons of doing absolutely nothing but eating, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and trying not to feel like a ghost wandering someone else’s house. Even my footsteps felt too loud here, like I was intruding something I shouldn't know.I didn’t go wandering often. The mansion was too big, too full of faces I didn’t know how to read. Most of them were men, rough-looking or just plain indifferent, and I couldn’t stand the weight of their eyes trailing me like I didn’t belong.The few women I came across were either maids, cooks, and one gardener. They were polite but firm. Every time I offered to help, they refused with apologetic smiles.“You’re Vincent’s daughter, Miss Lorraine, not staff.”“We don’t want Vincent to get angry if you’re seen doing chores.”“Please just relax. Your husband will be back soon.”Except

Silas stepped forward, casual, unhurried. “Your hands are shaking, princess.”I knew they were. My whole body trembled like I was standing naked in a storm. But I grit my teeth, squeezed the grip harder. “Doesn’t mean I won’t pull the trigger.”Silas tilted his head, cigarette balanced between his fingers. His eyes searched my face, and for once, there was no amusement in them.No laughter.Just a flicker of something cold and curious.“This your first time holding one of those?” he asked.I didn’t answer.Because if I opened my mouth, I might cry. And I couldn’t afford to cry right now. Not when Misha still sat in that chair, barely breathing, covered in burns. Suffering.All I had was this bluff.And the wild, reckless, stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, Silas would listen.Footsteps echoed from the stairwell behind me—slow, deliberate. The click of leather soles against concrete.

The silence that followed as we walked out of that hellish room was unbearable. I half-expected Silas to snap again, to drag Misha back in and finish what he started, but he didn’t.Misha had won somehow and I didn’t know what that made me.I wrapped my arm around his waist carefully, keeping pace with his slow, limping steps. His weight leaned heavier on me with every second. He didn’t say anything as we moved through the long corridor of my father’s mansion, but I could feel every ragged breath against my shoulder, could feel the shiver running down his spine.He was burning, skin was too hot where I touched it. Fever.I clenched my teeth. “Don’t you dare pass out on me.”A huff of breath, almost a laugh escaped him, but it cracked on the way out. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”We reached the stairs. I hesitated. “You can’t walk this.”“Can’t?” he muttered, lips barely moving. “Sounds like a challenge.” He was trying to play

I’d never been to a place like the Harrington Estate.Gilded ceilings. Champagne towers. Laughter that sounded rehearsed. People with diamond cufflinks and cold eyes. The kind of crowd that could ruin lives with a word and smile while doing it. Politicians. They turned when we entered.Vincent Vescari was nearly seventy when the world thought had lost all four of his children. He hadn't been seen at a public function in years, and now here he was, walking in like a ghost resurrected, with a young woman at his side.Whispers followed us like shadows.“Is that her?”“She looks nothing like—”“I thought they all died.”“Long lost daughter? Seriously? Who fucking believes that?”But Vincent basked in it. Smiling. Nodding. Shaking hands with practiced ease. For all the darkness I’d seen in him, tonight he wore charm like a second skin.“She’s my daughter,” he told them. Over and over, to every curious face that greeted us. “We were separated for years. Life’s cruel like that.”He said it

I watched the blood drain from Ezra's face like water through a cracked cup. His eyes shot to me, then back to Vincent, then again to me, as if trying to find a crack in the truth. A tell. A lie.“You’re joking,” he said, a weak laugh punching through his throat. “This is some… what? Some bit? You’re joking, right? This girl?” He gestured wildly toward me. “She’s your—no. No, no, that doesn’t make sense.”I raised an eyebrow. “Still calling me ‘this girl’? Bold choice, Borken.”Ezra flinched like I’d slapped him.Mitchell finally spoke, but even he sounded uncertain. “Mr. Vescari… with all due respect, if this is a misunderstanding—”“There is no misunderstanding,” Vincent cut in, his voice calm as ever. “You’re right. She didn’t belong here.” He looked at me then. “Not until now that I brought her here with me.”My heart punched hard against my ribs.“She’s my daughter,” he said, softer now, but it e