Semua Bab Clasp of Life : Bab 101 - Bab 110

The truth about nature is that what starts have to come to an end and Falvio couldn't have wished for a better end than gallery showcasing Raffaele's photography. Giving Raffaele a memorial to be remembered by and finding Analees as his wife. He was leaving Paris with a fullness in heart. Analees had always thought the sky belonged to everyone. Standing on balconies in Paris, watching the gray-blue stretch roll endlessly above Montmartre rooftops, she used to imagine that people in New York or Tokyo or Rio must be seeing the same wide canopy, the same drifting white. But as she walked across the glittering runway of Charles de Gaulle that morning, Falvio’s hand warm and commanding around hers, she realized that skies, like cities, could be owned. At least, men like her husband acted as though they could. The private jet waited for them like a white-winged secret. Its nose glistened under the dim French sun, sharp and polished, its silver trim catching every sliver of light. She had

The penthouse was silent, deceptively so, the kind of silence that presses on the chest and makes every shadow feel alive. Analees had spent the night in a restless state, the horrors she had discovered in Falvio’s study replaying in her mind. Every photograph, every chain, every note felt like a scar pressed against her ribs. The city outside seemed impossibly distant, indifferent, oblivious to the living nightmare inside. But tonight, she would no longer be trapped. Her plan had formed in fragments over the last twenty-four hours. Falvio had left in the evening for a meeting, confident in the unshakable order of his world. He believed the apartment, like his mind, was impermeable, flawless. And yet, in that perfection, he had left cracks. He had underestimated Daisy, his grandmother, whose trembling loyalty and fear had kept her quiet… until now. Analees moved quietly through the apartment, her heels removed to avoid the telltale click of polished floors. The folder of evidence—

Analees sat on the couch, her face pale and her fingers trembling against the porcelain teacup. The steam from the chamomile rose in soft curls, but the warmth did little to soothe the sickness rolling in her stomach. For days, a heaviness had haunted her body, a gnawing unease that no amount of rest could push away. Ines exchanged a worried glance with Raphael, her husband. She reached out and touched Analees’s clammy hand. “Analees,, this isn’t just fatigue,” Ines whispered. “You’ve been fainting, and you can barely eat. We can’t wait anymore. You need a doctor.” Analees shook her head weakly, her dark hair falling across her face. “No… no hospitals, no doctors. If anyone finds me—” Her voice cracked. “If he finds me…” Raphael leaned forward, his voice steady but kind. “Analees, no one knows you’re here. You’re safe with us. But this could be serious. Let us take you.” Exhaustion broke her resistance. She closed her eyes, and tears gathered in the corners. Finally, she gave a s

It began in the silence before dawn, the sort of silence that pressed on the ribs and felt too heavy for breath. Analees had been tossing in the spare bedroom that Raphael and Ines had prepared for her, a warm refuge in a house she had come to think of as more sanctuary than mere shelter. She lay curled, her swollen belly pressing against the mattress, a weight she had both cherished and feared for nine long months. It was her ninth month and Raphael insisted she stay with Ines and him. Analees was scared too so she agreed but with caution. At first, she thought the pain was a dream. A deep cramp, low and persistent, blooming from her spine around to her abdomen, catching her breath. She turned onto her back, grimacing, and rubbed her belly, whispering to the child inside as she had whispered for months: "Hold on, little one. Not yet. Wait until the light comes." But the child had other plans. The contraction tightened like a cruel hand around her torso. She gasped, clutchin

“Falvio,” greeted Raphael, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What a surprise.Didn't expect to see you here .” “I go where truth takes me, Raphael. And lately, truth seems to be hiding here" says Falvio entering the villa. That voice—controlled, unhurried, dangerously calm—made Raphael’s stomach twist. He tried to laugh. “You’ve been reading too many thrillers.” Falvio’s gaze didn’t waver. “I wish it were fiction.” The air between them grew heavier. In the distance, a bird sang and fell silent. From somewhere deep inside the villa came the faintest echo—wood creaking, a door settling. Raphael prayed Falvio hadn’t noticed. Ines appeared in the doorway, robe tied hastily over her nightdress. “Falvio?” she breathed. “You—you're here?” Falvio offered a thin smile. “Bonjour, Ines. You look… startled.” “I am,” she admitted softly. “You could have written ahead.” “I didn’t want to be expected,” he said, stepping closer. “Sometimes people prepare too well when they know I’m