All Chapters of Shadows of the Vow: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

226 Chapters

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One What Still Moves Regardless I

Antonioni’s POV The cell door closed with a sound that did not echo.That was what unsettled me.In Fort San Vittorio Detention Complex, echoes were constant…metal against metal, boots against concrete, the low hum of surveillance breathing through the walls. But this time, when they returned me from court, the sound ended. As though the world had decided I was not worth the reverberation.I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, my wrists still warm from the cuffs, my shoulders carrying the weight of eyes that were no longer on me. Courtrooms were loud with judgment, even in silence. Cells were honest. They made no promises.I sat.And then, inevitably, I thought of her.Annabelle.Not as she had been led into the courtroom. Not as the composed woman who sat like a force of order in chaos. But as she had looked the last second, our eyes held steady, unafraid, and present.That look st

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two What Still Moves Regardless II

Annabelle’s POV Malta stayed behind me like a held breath I could finally release. By the time the jet touched down and the Marina Park rose into view again, I realized how tightly I had been carrying myself. My shoulders loosened only when I saw the familiar gates, the clean sweep of the grounds, the lights warm and orderly against the coming dusk. Luca was dropped off at his abode in Istanbul, before we headed for Spain. We alighted. On getting inside the Dome, I was glad the home did not collapse while I was gone. That mattered more than I had expected. The house smelled the same when I stepped inside, polished wood, herbs from the kitchen, the faint trace of incense Mama Espe loved. Stability has a scent. I recognized it immediately. Mama Espe met me halfway down the hall, her head warmer worn neatly, h

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three What the World Begins To Notice

Annabelle’s POVThe sound of gunfire didn’t frighten me. At least not anymore.That was the first thing I noticed.It echoed loudly across the open field, sharp, controlled, consistent, and instead of flinching, something inside me aligned. Like a memory waking up. Like my body already knew what to do before my mind tried to interfere.I adjusted my standing again, grounding my feet, loosening my shoulders, correcting myself the way Bukky had taught me to, without panic, without apology. Slowly, Bukky walked around me in a circle, hands behind his back, watching not just my grip but my breathing, my posture, and my resolve.“Breathe first,” he said calmly. “The gun doesn’t move unless you tell it to.”I inhaled. Deep. Measured.I let the world narrow to the target, to the quiet space between my heartbeat and my intention, and then… I fired.It hit the targeted point.For a second, I just stood there, stunned by myself.Then Camille clapped loudly beside us, child-like joy spilling ou

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Four The World Just Opened Itself At Her Feet

Antonioni's POV The television across the corridor never slept.Even when the lights dimmed and the cell block pretended to rest, the low hum of news anchors bled through the walls, concrete, distorted but relentless.I sat on the narrow bed, back against the wall, one arm resting loosely on my knee, eyes half-lidded as I listened.“…Antonioni D'Angélo,” the anchor said again, slowly, deliberately, like a verdict.My mouth curved...not quite a smile, not quite disdain.“They say,” another voice continued, “that beyond financial crimes, new allegations have surfaced. Sources claim he imprisoned a young woman he purchased with his money, kept her hidden, maltreated her—”I exhaled through my nose.Purchased. I almost laughed. If only they knew...The screen flickered, floating images looping endlessly…headlines stacked on headlines, speculation layered on fiction. Talking heads argued over my morality like it was a play. A panelist leaned forward, eyes sharp with self-righteousness.“

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five ‎The Anticipated Visit: The Lion’s Heart I

Aselle’s POV ‎‎The corridor smelled of disinfectant and cold metal. Keys rattled softly, and I could hear the warden’s footsteps echoing as he prepared for my visit. My chest felt tight, not with fear, but with anticipation I couldn’t hide. Every step, every sound, was increasing with time, and yet I reminded myself: I was ready. I had trained for presence, for awareness, for composure.‎‎A knock at the cell door made me straighten immediately. My hands rested lightly on the handles of the bags I carried—food, supplies, a small piece of home I could offer him even here.‎‎“Visit scheduled. Annabelle Gracia,” the guard said.‎‎My pulse quickened just slightly. I exhaled, steadying myself. This was him. Antonioni. My anchor. My storm and my calm.‎‎The lock clicked and the gate swung open. And I stepped inside. The air in there was cooler than the air outside, but none of it mattered. All I could see was him.‎‎“Antonioni,” I said softly, setting the bags down carefully. I offer

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Six ‎The Anticipated Visit: The Lion’s Heart II

‎Antonioni’s POVThe corridor smelled of disinfectant and cold metal.I had become friends with that smell, intimately. How it clings to the stone walls needs to be studied. How it lingered even when the lights dimmed, how it reminded men of where they stood in the hierarchy of freedom, all need a premium study. Keys echoed again, their sound precise, rehearsed, deliberate. The warden was preparing for her arrival.I sat still. Composed. Alert.My pulse was steady, but anticipation lived beneath it, restrained only by discipline. I had survived far worse than waiting—but this was different. This was not about endurance. This was about presence.A knock came.“Visit scheduled. Annabelle Gracia.”The words settled somewhere deep in my chest.I rose smoothly, instinctively straightening my shoulders. Through the small window in the door, I caught movement, graceful, deliberate, and unmistakably hers. Even before the lock clicked, I knew. I always knew.The gate opened and she stepped in.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Seven “If Nora Knew, She'd Rage, Not Relax”

‎Lorenzo’s POV I watched her adjust herself on the bed, hips shifting just slightly, her perfume mingling with the heavy scent of the room. Marta. Always Marta. A woman Antonioni banged for ten years. Every time I banged her, it was like a small betrayal against myself, against everything I was supposed to be holding together, but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t care to stop. Not yet. Marta is the only woman I'm having an affair with at the moment, not because women were scarce, but because women feared me. Most of them think I killed my former woman, Nina, and used her for money rituals or whatever the hell might be going on in their damn heads. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, brushing her hair back, eyes sharp, almost calculating. I let out a slow exhale, half pleasure, half exhaustion. “I was thinking,” I said car

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Eight The World Listens When You Speak

Annabelle’s POV It was the New Year already. Not the loud kind with fireworks and countdowns, but the quiet, heavy kind. The kind that crept in while the world slept, and changed fates. The vibration of my phone against the bedside table startled me. It startled me into being fully awake. Once. Twice. Then insistently. I blinked, disoriented, my heart already racing before my mind caught up. The screen glowed in the darkness. Kemal Daraç. A credit alert notification flashed beneath his name. Huge. I sat up immediately. Something about the timing, New Year, dawn still miles away, remembering Antonioni behind those iron walls, still made my chest ache. I answered without hesitation. “Mr. Daraç?”

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Nine Second Hearing: The Words Crumbling On Arrival

Antonioni’s POVThe courtroom was alive, thick with tension. Not just the formal kind, you know that kind that required polite nods and careful words, that's not it. The tension was the kind that clung to the air like the whirlwind before an actual tempest. Every breath mattered, every glance could betray intent, every shuffle of papers hinted at strategy.I took my seat, calm, observing, while the energy in the room pulsed like a living thing. My hands rested lightly on the table. My eyes scanned faces. Mr. Kemal Daraç, Emir Yücel, Luca Malanké, Micah Stòròpez, Dr. Weiss, Señor Cruz, Matteo, Alberto, Mandolos, and Danky—the heads of my security. Their presence alone was a reassurance. And then my eyes quickly scanned my right hands, Bukky, Milo, Diego, Lorenzo Di Ricco… I froze slightly when I noticed him. Lorenzo. The bloody rival, my hater, the one I never wanted to confront this close in a formal setting. What's Loren doing here?He hadn’t been announced. No one had whispered.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Felt Good To Intimidate Him With My Witness

Lorenzo's POV I didn’t come to expose Antonioni, even though it would have felt satisfactory to do that. If I had exposed him, the room would not still be standing.I came to remind him that I exist. That was the difference.The courtroom smelled like polish, crispy papers, and cowardice. The kind of place where men pretended their hands were clean because they wore suits. I had worn better suits laundering blood-stained money for dead ministers. This was ta heater that pays better.Antonioni didn’t see me at first. That pleased me.I watched him before he felt me. The way he sat, controlled and composed, still playing the noble lion in a cage. His people were everywhere. Matteo. Mandolos. Danky. Heads of security, and others, standing like iron pillars, loyalty stitched into their spines.He had built himself a fortress. But fortresses always have tunnels.I leaned back, arms crossed, jaw tight. I could feel it crawling under my skin, the rage, the memory, the history. The things

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