Semua Bab VELVET GUN: Bab 101 - Bab 110

“Some truths are too sharp for the world outside; we keep them between us, where they burn slow and honest.” The Merchetti mansion was quiet, but not empty. Rain pattered against the windows in long, rhythmic taps, echoing through the halls like a heartbeat. Ellie sat in the sitting room, Chiara across from her, knees tucked beneath her, fidgeting with the edge of a silk scarf. The fire burned low, casting orange flickers across the polished wood. Chiara’s eyes didn’t leave her sister’s face. “Ellie… I need to know,” she said finally, voice low, careful. “About Amy. I mean… about you and her. Why are you so close? The other day, I saw you two… in your room… and, well… it looked like you almost—” Ellie leaned back, eyes narrowing just slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. “Almost what?” she asked, but there wasn’t real defensiveness—just the faintest flicker of amusement. Chiara swallowed, cheeks heating. “You know… kissed. Or… something more. I—I need to understand, Ellie. I n

“Some wounds are loud. Others whisper. The ones that whisper bleed the longest.” The Finn mansion felt heavier than usual, as if the walls themselves had absorbed years of grief, regret, and unsaid words. Ellie walked through the hallways silently, her heels clicking softly against the marble, each step an echo of the distance she had put between herself and this place — between herself and Amy. The library door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, she saw Amy — hair loose, eyes dark, a half-empty glass of whiskey in her hand, sunlight cutting across her profile in sharp, cruel lines. For a moment, Ellie just watched.There was a fragility in Amy that no one else ever saw, a vulnerability she tried to bury beneath cool detachment and lethal precision. Ellie’s voice broke the silence. “Amy.” Amy’s head jerked up. Her eyes — so many unreadable emotions contained in that gaze — locked onto Ellie’s. “Ellie,” she said cautiously, as if saying her name out loud could summon a storm. “

“Some moments leave a mark on the heart that time can never erase.” The morning light filtered gently through the curtains, painting the bedroom in soft gold. Amy stirred first, eyes half-lidded, tracing the rise and fall of Ellie’s chest beneath her arm. She felt the warmth of Ellie pressed against her, the steady weight of her trust. For a brief moment, the world felt suspended, and the quiet of the mansion wrapped them in a cocoon of safety. Ellie moved slightly, burying her face in Amy’s shoulder. A soft, tremulous sigh escaped her lips. Amy tightened her hold, brushing a finger along the nape of Ellie’s neck, memorizing the curve of her jaw and the softness of her hair. “You’re… warm,” Ellie murmured, her voice thick with sleep, though it carried an undertone of emotion that made Amy’s chest tighten. Amy tilted her head down, pressing a soft kiss to Ellie’s temple. “You don’t know the half of it,” she whispered. “Not just warm… alive. Here. With me.” Ellie shifted again, he

“In the quiet of the morning, love speaks louder than words.” The calm intimacy of shared mornings—vulnerability, comfort, and quiet devotion between two people who have built a life of trust and passion. The sunlight slipped slowly through the curtains, painting soft gold streaks across the bedroom. The air was warm with the lingering scent of perfume, skin, and yesterday’s whispered laughter. Ellie lay curled against Amy, her head tucked into the crook of Amy’s neck, fingers tracing lazy patterns over the curve of her shoulder. Amy stirred first, blinking against the morning light, andfelt Ellie shift slightly beneath her. She let her eyes trace Ellie’s face, memorizing the quiet expression of serenity, the soft exhalation, the relaxed muscles that had carried so much strength only hours before. “You’re up early,” Ellie murmured, voice husky from sleep, though her lips curved into a lazy smile as she pressed a soft kiss to Amy’s jaw. “I was waiting for you to wake,” Amy replied,

“Family is never just blood—it’s the ties we choose to hold, the lines we draw, and the battles we dare to fight together.” Ellie was in her office, the late afternoon sun casting long streaks of gold across the polished floor. Papers were scattered across her desk, phones rang intermittently, and her laptop glowed with notifications demanding her attention. Deals, contracts, and charity initiatives—her life was a constant whirlwind, but she thrived in it. Eliano Merchetti had made a name for himself, and now, as the first of the Merchetti line to create a citywide food bank for the less privileged, she had even more responsibilities than ever before. She was in the middle of arranging a meeting with a potential investor when her phone rang. The caller ID flashed a name she didn’t expect to see: a local police precinct. “Ellie Merchetti?” the voice on the other end asked, firm and slightly exasperated. “Yes,” Ellie said, her brow furrowing. “What is it?” “This is Officer Carver. W