บททั้งหมดของ His Trophy His War: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

The Last NightDante’s key scraped the lock. Livia didn’t move from the mattress, keeping her breathing slow and even. She’d spent the last twelve hours studying the rusted bolts on the drain cover, calculating how much force it would take to pry them loose. Her hands were raw from testing them when Dante wasn’t watching.He stepped inside, carrying two paper bags that smelled of greasy food. His eyes were clearer today, sharp with something she hadn’t seen in years—purpose.“Santini’s coming tomorrow,” he said, setting the bags down. “He’s not patient like I am.”Livia sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in her muscles. “What does Russo want with me?”“He wants you gone. Permanently.” Dante’s voice was flat. “But I told him I’d take care of you myself.”She didn’t react, just stared at him. “You’re going to kill me.”“No.” He pulled a small duffel bag from under his jacket. “We’re leaving. Tonight. Russo cut me off completely—froze my accounts, seized my estate. But I still have conta

The Safehouse WatchAlessandro didn't take Livia back to the penthouse. He drove two hours into the mountains, to a safehouse carved into limestone cliffs, where the only view was sky and the only sound was wind.Inside, it was spare but warm—stone walls, a wood stove crackling, and thick wool blankets folded at the foot of the bed. No cameras. No alarms. No history.Livia stood just inside the door, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The adrenaline that had carried her through the escape and their fierce reunion at the laundromat had evaporated, leaving her trembling. Her split lip throbbed. Her wrists ached from where Dante had gripped her too hard."Shower," Alessandro said softly. "First door on the left. I'll be here when you're done."She didn't argue. In the tiny bathroom, she peeled off her ruined clothes and stepped under the hot spray, scrubbing until her skin turned pink. She counted the scars in the steam—Dante's handprint on her arm, the burn on her wrist from a cig

No More Ghosts“You’re not safe yet.”Dante’s text glowed on Livia’s phone, cold and taunting. She deleted it without flinching. Outside the safehouse window, Milan glittered like a battlefield slick with rain. Inside, the air hummed with tension—Alessandro pacing, Clara clutching a coffee mug like it could shield her, and Livia sharpening the quiet fury that had been coiling in her bones since her escape.“He’s calling your bluff,” Alessandro said, voice low. “He knows you won’t gamble with Clara’s life.”Livia met his eyes. “That’s where he’s wrong. I’m not gambling. I’m betting everything.”She turned to Clara. “You okay with this? It’s not too late to say no.”Clara’s chin lifted. “He took my laptop. My notes. But he didn’t break me. Let him think he’s still the king of that den. You’re about to show him the throne’s been vacant for years.”Alessandro exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Then we do it your way. But I’m there. Every second.”Livia gave a slow nod. “Goo

The Headline That Shook Milan“It’s live.”Clara’s voice trembled as she hit publish on her laptop. The screen flickered, then displayed her final draft—Blood Ties: How Russo Owned Milan’s Power Structure—with the by-line Clara Valenti, Independent Journalist.Livia and Alessandro stood behind her at the safehouse kitchen table, watching the clock tick toward 6:01 a.m. The coffee in their mugs had gone cold.“They’re going to kill me,” Clara whispered, her fingers hovering over the delete key. “Russo’s people will—”“No,” Livia cut in, placing a steady hand over Clara’s. “They won’t. Not with this many eyes watching.” She scrolled through the article on her phone—photos of Russo shaking hands with Councillor Bianchi in a darkened bar; bank records showing Maria Russo’s offshore accounts; testimony from Elena Marchetti, the lawyer who’d flipped; even a grainy image of Lieutenant Bianchi accepting an envelope from a Russo associate outside a courthouse. “This isn’t just an article. It’s

The Mole in Plain SightThe safehouse kitchen smelled of espresso and tension. Livia sat at the table, reviewing final trial documents with Alessandro, her fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup. Clara scrolled through her phone, muttering about last-minute edits to her exposé. Outside, dawn bled across the Milan skyline, painting everything in pale gold.Rosa entered quietly, balancing a tray of fresh pastries. She set it down with her usual quiet efficiency, her sharp eyes flicking between them. “You’re all still up,” she said, her voice soft but knowing.“Can’t sleep,” Livia admitted. “Tomorrow’s the verdict. Everything ends.”Rosa nodded, but her gaze lingered a beat too long on Livia. There was something in her expression—sadness, maybe guilt—that Livia had never seen before.Alessandro stood, stretching. “I’ll check perimeter. Marco’s on night watch, but I want eyes on the east gate.” He kissed Livia’s temple. “Don’t stay up too long.”When he left, Rosa lingered, refolding