บททั้งหมดของ The Lord Of Chaos: A Forced Marriage: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

Vittoria flashed a controlled smile, though the urge to throttle Seraphina was strong; she couldn’t deny the woman had a point.“Well, yeah,” Vittoria shot back, raising an eyebrow with sarcasm. “Sweetheart, this mess is what happens when you have a husband who makes you moan nonstop in a storage room.”Seraphina’s eyes darted away from Vittoria, her tongue nervously wetting her lips as she struggled to find a response that never came.“Why are you being so aggressive?” Seraphina asked, as if conveniently forgetting her provocations.“Are you kidding me?” Vittoria countered, turning to face her with a look blending irony and disbelief. “How exactly am I supposed to treat you?” she pressed, arching a brow. “From the moment you showed up, you’ve done nothing but act bold and brazen, trying to cozy up to my husband like you have any right.”“You started it the second you strutted onto that scene,” Seraphina replied, her eyes glinting with irony. “Always so territorial, like you’re scared

Vittoria stood frozen for a moment, her eyes wide as they fixed on Antonella’s crumpled body on the floor, her breath caught in her throat as if the world had stopped.Shock hit her hard, but it lasted only a few seconds before adrenaline and instinct took over.With a swift movement, Vittoria knelt beside her fallen rival, ignoring the tears in her dress as she pressed her hand to Antonella’s neck, searching for a pulse.“She’s alive,” Vittoria whispered, her eyes still fixed downward, as if the realization was more for herself than for Seraphina.Seraphina leaned against the sink, her frail body buckling under the weight of fear, struggling to contain the trembling that threatened to bring her down.Her shaking hands covered her face, but they couldn’t hide her wide, teary eyes, which betrayed her utter disbelief at the scene unfolding before her.“My God, what do we do now, Vittoria?” Seraphina asked, her voice trembling and halting, each word choked with fear and uncertainty, as i

Vincenzo strode through the hall with purposeful steps, his grip firm on Vittoria’s hand, drawing curious glances that followed their every move.“Daughter, won’t you greet your papà?” Alfonso asked, stepping in front of them, his presence commanding attention as he blocked their path with the solemnity of someone who refused to be ignored.“Hello, papà,” Vittoria replied, holding his gaze while forcing a tense smile that betrayed more defiance than affection.“And the hug, my dear?” Alfonso pressed, opening his arms as if claiming what was rightfully his.Before Vittoria could respond, Vincenzo stepped forward, his body a solid barrier between her and Alfonso, shielding any glimpse of her torn dress.“The hug will have to wait for another day,” Vincenzo declared, his voice a firm, unyielding command, and without leaving room for argument, he continued leading Vittoria through the hall with determined strides.“Looks like your princess is well tamed by that bastard,” Cesare remarked,

Vittoria felt her body tremble, a shiver running down her spine as if her very reason was trying to reject those words.Yet, she couldn’t find the strength to shy away from the truth, not now that he was finally willing to reveal it.“Are you afraid of what you’re about to hear?” Vincenzo asked, his voice low, his gaze locked onto hers.Vittoria nodded faintly, but her eyes remained steady, silently pleading for him to continue.“Promise me, Vittoria. Promise you’ll keep up appearances, even after facing the hell this city hides. Because the difference between surviving and being consumed lies in the mask you choose to wear,”“I promise,” Vittoria replied, her voice soft, fragile, almost a whisper, but heavy with the certainty that she had just surrendered to a truth she could no longer escape.Vincenzo’s gaze lingered on her for long seconds until he raised a hand, lightly touching her face—not possessively, but as if offering silent protection amidst the chaos.Then, he stepped back

Vincenzo gripped her shoulders firmly, forcing her to stop, his eyes boring into hers as if they could shatter every resistance with the sheer force of his presence.“What kind of nonsense is that?” he snapped, his voice hard, refusing to entertain such warped reasoning. “You were eight years old, Vittoria. Eight.” He emphasized, his gaze locked on hers, compelling her to face reality. “You weren’t responsible for Giuliano, never were. You were just a child, and no child bears the weight of another’s life on their shoulders.”“But I should have!” Vittoria shot back, her voice breaking through sobs. “I promised, I swore to my mother I’d take care of him, protect him from everything!” she continued, her tear-filled eyes heavy with confession. “If he’s lost, it’s because I wasn’t enough. I failed, Vincenzo—I failed him, I failed her, I failed everything.”“Enough, Vittoria,” Vincenzo cut in, his voice sharp and unyielding, as if dragging her back to reality by force. “You didn’t fail any