Surrogate For The Mafia Lord のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

Rena’s POVThe moment Noah spots his parents, any thought of staying with us disappears. He barely spares me a glance before running to his mother, chattering excitedly about his weekend.I should feel relieved. And part of me is—I woke up at least three times last night, startled by tiny elbows jabbing into my ribs. Sleeping without that particular hazard should be a blessing.But there’s another part of me, quieter but heavier, that isn’t ready to let him go.It’s foolish, really. It was just a weekend. Just a couple of days. But somewhere between chasing after him, making sure he ate his vegetables, and tucking him in at night, I started to feel something dangerous. Like we were ours. A little family.Don’t do this to yourself. The voice in my head is sharp, cutting through the warmth lingering in my chest. Don’t get attached. Don’t mistake this for something it’s not.I know better than to let emotions take root. I’ve known it from the beginning. I agreed to be a surrogate, not a

Rena’s POVI wake to the golden glow of morning streaming across my face, warming my skin. But the bed beside me is empty.Armani’s side is cold.A small part of me should be relieved—maybe it’s easier this way. No awkward good mornings. No forced smiles. Yet, as I sit up, pushing the covers aside, a hollow ache settles in my chest.I made the right decision.Didn’t I?I exhale sharply, shaking off the thoughts before they take root. There’s no room for doubt, not now. I force myself into motion, heading for the bathroom.The shower is quick, just enough to wash away the remnants of my restless night. By the time I’m out, I slip into a simple dress, something comfortable but appropriate for this place, and dab on a bit of makeup. Nothing extravagant—I never wear much—but here, in his world, I feel the need to look a little more polished.I’m running a brush through my damp hair when the door creaks open.Armani steps inside.“Good morning,” he greets, his voice smooth, carrying a forc

Rena’s POVThe past few days have been a whirlwind of silk, lace, and an endless barrage of choices I never imagined I’d have to make.One moment, I’m standing still while strangers poke and prod, adjusting hems and measuring every inch of me. The next, I’m being asked to choose between ivory and pearl napkins, between towering floral arrangements and delicate centerpieces, between a full orchestra or a string quartet. It’s exhausting, overwhelming—suffocating.But Armani is a surprise.I never expected him to be so involved, let alone so meticulous. He takes charge with a natural ease, sorting through endless decisions without breaking a sweat. If I had my way, I’d let him make every single choice without my input, but he won’t allow it. Every step of the way, he asks for my opinion, waits for my thoughts, values them.It’s... unsettling. And maybe a little bit nice.At first, I was afraid I’d misstep, that I’d make the wrong choice and somehow unravel the entire illusion of this wed

Rena’s POVThe door clicks shut behind me, and just like that, I’m dismissed.Not that I was given much of a voice in the first place.Armani’s parents—his overbearing, impossible-to-please parents—have made it abundantly clear that their discussion does not include me, even though I’m the one their son supposedly married. And despite the fact that our marriage isn’t real, I am bound to it. I’ve already accepted it as my reality. There’s no turning back now—not when my father’s treatment depends on this.If Armani changes his mind… if his parents manage to shake his resolve…I swallow hard, my fingers tightening into fists at my sides.I hover near the door, straining to catch even the faintest murmur of conversation. Anything that might give me an idea of which way this is going. Are they convincing him to leave me? To undo everything?I hear a footstep behind me.“I see you’ve met the future in-laws.”I nearly jump out of my skin. Spinning around, I find myself face-to-face with Pri

Rena’s POVI have no idea what the proper attire is for a dinner with my fake fiancé’s royal parents, but thankfully, Sophia has better instincts than I do. She lends me a little black dress—sleek, elegant, and just a bit too snug. She’s petite, and while the fabric hugs me a little more than I’d prefer, it’s still far better than anything I brought with me.But honestly, what I’m wearing is the least of my problems. The real issue is how I’m supposed to act in front of two people who clearly don’t want me marrying their son.Armani insists the wedding is still on, but I highly doubt he’s convinced them to roll out the red carpet for me. More likely, he’s managed to stop them from shutting everything down immediately, buying me some time to prove I’m worthy of this marriage. Which means I have to work twice as hard to impress them.I exhale slowly, trying to steady my nerves. Armani has been teaching me bits and pieces about etiquette—how to hold myself, how to address people of statu