บททั้งหมดของ Married To A Monster: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Lucien’s POVThe house was too quiet.Not the kind of quiet that gave peace, but the kind that pressed against the walls, thick with what everyone was refusing to say. After the reveal of Zara’s half-brother, silence had become the new air. Every face I passed in the corridors wore the same expression: eyes lowered, mouths tight, shoulders heavy with the weight of truths that didn’t belong to them.But the truth didn’t care who it belonged to—it had already sunk its claws into all of us.I sat in my study long after the others had gone to their rooms. The whiskey on the desk burned in my throat but did nothing for the ache in my chest. Every sip just reminded me how far from control I had fallen.Was this what Enzo wanted when he shackled me to his daughter?A transaction. A chain. A move on his board.My jaw flexed, teeth grinding against the thought. I had agreed to marry her out of duty, power, leverage. All the words men like me used to make their prison sound like choice. But now

Morning light came slow and careful across the estate, like someone testing the temperature of the world before committing to warmth. The house still smelled of gunpowder and disinfectant from the weeks before, a memory that would never quite fade, but in the kitchen that morning it was only coffee and citrus and the quiet of two people who had decided, for the time being, to be on the same side.Lucien moved through the room with the economy of a man who had carved his life into purpose. He made no theatrical gestures—no show for servants, no performance for cameras. He poured, he checked the messages on his tablet, he listened. Zara sat at the end of the long black table, elbows on the wood, a stack of printed pages splayed like a fan before her: contracts, audit trails, a messy map of names and numbers that had cost people their reputations, and sometimes their livelihoods. She wore no jewelry beyond a thin gold band, and the line of her neck was visible where the collar of her blo

The estate was silent when they brought him in.Two guards dragged the boy—no, not quite a boy—through the marble hallway that had seen more secrets than prayers. His wrists were bound, but his head was high, chin tilted in a defiance that looked too familiar to ignore.Don Enzo sat at the far end of the room, behind a desk of black oak that had survived three generations of violence and betrayal. His cigar burned low between two fingers, smoke curling upward like a coiled ghost.Lucien stood beside him, silent, his expression unreadable. He’d been summoned as both witness and warning. What unfolded in this room would ripple across everything they’d built.The guards shoved the newcomer into the chair opposite Don Enzo. He stumbled once, caught himself, and lifted his eyes.“Name,” Enzo said, voice cold enough to shatter glass.The boy smiled faintly. “You already know it.”Lucien’s jaw tightened. The arrogance, the tone—it was pure Enzo.Still, Enzo leaned forward. “I said your name.

ZARA’S POVThe mansion felt heavier tonight.Not quiet — just heavy. The kind of silence that presses against your ribs until it’s hard to breathe.Zara stood by the tall window, the moonlight cutting across her face. Her reflection looked like a stranger — sharp, cold, and a little too calm for someone whose world had just imploded.Her father had released her brother. That should’ve been a relief.It wasn’t.He hadn’t done it out of mercy — Don Enzo never did anything without motive. He wanted to watch, to see how far she would go, to test how much of him existed in her.She was still trembling from their last confrontation.The way his voice had dropped, almost a whisper:“You are more like me than you think.”That line wouldn’t stop replaying in her head.She hated that he was right — at least a little.Because when she looked at herself now, she didn’t see the girl who had cried for love, or the one who flinched at blood.She saw someone who had survived betrayal, death, and madn

ZARA’S POVThe sound of sirens was the first thing that tore through the silence.She woke up to pounding on the door—harsh, angry fists against the wood, echoing through the penthouse. Her heart dropped. Lucien wasn’t even out of bed when she reached for her robe, pulling it tight against her trembling body.“Zara Moretti Black?”“Yes?”“You’re under arrest for the murder of Dr. Morgan.”Her world tilted.“What?” she breathed, but the men in black suits didn’t flinch. Their badges glimmered under the morning light. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming—until she saw the handcuffs.Lucien stepped forward, half-dressed, eyes wide. “What the hell is going on?” he barked.“Sir, please step aside.”Zara’s throat closed. Her mind screamed that this couldn’t be real—she hadn’t even seen Dr. Morgan in days. But one of the agents pulled out a photo from a folder: a screenshot of her car parked outside his office last night.“That’s not possible,” she whispered. “I wasn’t there.”Lucien’s