All Chapters of Shadows of the Vow: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Antonioni’s POV  “These idiots stole from me.” Annabelle didn’t respond immediately. She waited… Because she knew that when I said things like that calmly, the damage had already been done somewhere else. “Who?” she asked at last. I was looking at my phone. Not scrolling. Just staring at the stillness where alerts should have been. “These idiots,” I replied calmly, locking the screen and setting the phone down. “The ones who thought distance meant permission.” She studied my face. “From the Dome?” That earned her a glance. “No,” I said. “From China.” That made her attempt to straighten. “China?” “Zhuhai,” I corrected. “An old warehouse. Quiet. Forgotten. Or so they thought.” She straightened fully, moving closer, her brows

Antonioni's POV   Nora The gates slid open without ceremony. No rush. No fear. She walked in like someone who had already decided the worst thing that could happen had happened years ago. Nora Ricco was smaller than I expected. Eighteen years or so. Not fragile, just contained. Dark hair pulled back. Plain clothes. No jewelry. No attempt to look important. That, more than anything, told me she was Lorenzo’s daughter. Bukky shifted beside me. Diego’s hand hovered near his jacket. “Easy,” I said quietly. She stopped three steps away from us and then looked at me. Not the way people usually did. Not calculating. Not afraid either. Assessing. “So,” she said, her voice steady, “this is where monsters live.” No greeting. No courtesy. Straight t

Antonioni's POV   It was just one day until Christmas and the Dome's club was buzzing with people. The news about Jong Ping Jin's death has hit everyone who knows Milo.  That death, I felt it before anyone said a word. Felt it before it even happened. Death doesn’t arrive loudly. It settles. It slows the air. It makes rooms pause mid-breath. Before the news reached me, the Dome already knew something had shifted. Because we didn't see Milo come around to announce that he needed some freshly baked muffins, like he does every evening. It's been two days. “Jong Ping Jin is dead. And Lorenzo must have done this.” Not whispered. Not announced. Just… passed. Milo didn’t react at first. He stood there, still, eyes fixed on nothing. The kind of stillne

Antonioni's POV When we walked toward the exit of the private lounge, I already knew.This night wasn’t about the Dome.It wasn’t about Lorenzo.It wasn’t even about the chaos that had torn through the building earlier.It was about leaving together.There’s a difference between escorting a woman and choosing to leave with her. I felt it the moment her steps matched mine without hesitation. No checking the room. No second-guessing. No asking where we were going.She already knew.And yes—I was hard.But that wasn’t what stopped me when the door closed behind us in my room.I stopped because something about her presence recalibrated me.I’d brought her here expecting the version of Annabelle I remembered. The one who filled the silence, who waited for permission to exist in my space. Instead, what stood in my doorway was a woman steady against the wood, eyes adjusting calmly to the light, body balanced like she’d learned how to hold herself without leaning on anyone.She was tipsy. No

Antonioni’s POV I stayed in the private lounge long before anyone arrived. Just me. Alone. No one was expected yet. The quiet of the house allowed my thoughts to stretch without interruption, and I let them wander.I tapped a few keys and arranged a small transfer to Annabelle's newly given bank account, not large, but enough to remind her that the resources were hers to determine what to buy and what to forfeit. Discipline.Milo had been scheduled to check in later, and I wasn’t waiting for him. Not really. I simply wanted the calm. To think. To breathe. To feel Christmas approaching without obligation pressing against it.Eventually, I brought up the feed from the house. Annabelle had already begun her work. I watched her on the monitors, moving deliberately through rooms, checking the furniture, placing decorations with precision. Every movement was careful, considered. She didn’t rush. She didn’t fumble. She simply did.Martinez sat quietly nearby, a shadow of calm judgment. I di