Semua Bab The Lord Of Chaos: A Forced Marriage: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Vittoria smiled and nodded, though she knew some of the morning’s charm had been lost in the café, caught in unanswered questions and lingering tension.Vincenzo took her hand, guiding her through Bath’s streets with a steady stride, his grip warm and reassuring.He chose to walk in silence, perhaps hoping the rhythm of their steps and the surrounding scenery would dissolve the remnants of unease, restoring some of the morning’s magic.After a few minutes weaving through bustling streets, Vittoria realized they stood before a modern building with wide glass windows reflecting the grayish light of late morning.“A hospital?” she asked, a touch of surprise in her voice.“Yes,” Vincenzo replied, offering no further explanation, his gaze fixed ahead as he led her through the glass entrance.The receptionist greeted him with a respectful nod, bypassing formalities, as if his presence alone opened every door.They moved down a quieter corridor, where a simple sign read: Pediatric Oncology.

For a moment, Helen found solace in those words, her fierce wish for a miracle softening her features into a delicate smile as she nodded subtly and slipped back into the room.Vincenzo made his way through the hospital corridors, offering quiet nods to the staff he passed.At the ward’s reception, his eyes landed on Vittoria, curled up in a distant armchair.The teddy remained clutched tightly to her chest, like her sole shield, while her face—still streaked from recent tears—laid bare the raw vulnerability of her grief.He approached without a sound and sat beside her, wrapping her firmly in his arms, offering the steady anchor she needed.“She needs a new teddy,” Vittoria whispered, pressing the toy harder against her heart.“She does,” Vincenzo agreed, his hand gliding gently through her hair. “But this one’s her favorite—and mine too.” His voice carried the echo of the day he’d bought it.He let out a deep sigh, pulling her closer against his chest, as if he felt the moment’s wei

The lunch unfolded in easy rhythms—light chatter, effortless laughs, and the kind of past echoes that warmed without stinging.Edward and Vincenzo swapped stories of Oxford professors, trading those insider jabs that only old allies could land, while Vittoria leaned in with real curiosity, her gaze flicking between them like she was piecing together a cherished puzzle.Amid the quiet chuckles and sharp-witted asides, she wove herself into the flow, drawing out even more tales from the pair and turning the table into a pocket of easy intimacy, almost like family.“I have to admit, Harrington, you’re smiling so much these days you almost look housebroken,” Edward teased, a sly half-grin tugging at his mouth. “Who’d have thought marriage could turn you into something almost… tolerable.”“Housebroken’s spot on,” Vittoria agreed, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Now he eats his veggies, doesn’t snap quite as much, and if I push a little harder, I might even train him to sit and stay.”Edwa

Vincenzo let a faint, guarded smile slip as he closed the door behind him with a deliberate, unhurried motion.His eyes stayed locked on her as he moved toward the table, each step slow and measured, radiating a quiet confidence that spoke louder than words, as if every gesture was its retort to the jab she’d just thrown his way.“They’ve tried twice already,” Vincenzo remarked, settling into the chair across from her and crossing one leg over the other. “Maybe the third time they’ll finally get it right—or at least get lucky.”“Vincenzo, you’re awful,” Seraphina shot back, her voice dripping with disgust, as if mocking his mortality was, to her, the lowest kind of low.“Realistic,” he corrected, his tone calm and razor-sharp, carrying the easy nonchalance of someone chatting about the weather, not their demise.“What are you doing here, Vincenzo?” she asked, planting her hands on the table and leaning slightly forward, her gaze piercing him with suspicion.“I want to hire you,” he re

Vincenzo shot to his feet, phone pressed tight against his ear, his other hand gripping the wine bottle like a lifeline.He stormed into the living room, each step heavy and deliberate, his anger pulsing through every fiber of his body, as if every heartbeat was another surge of rage on the verge of spilling over.“Lucchese, you’re not holding up your end of the bargain…”Before the woman could finish, a sharp, bitter laugh burst from Vincenzo’s lips, dry and cutting, as if her words were nothing more than a bad joke falling flat in his presence.“You’re mistaken,” Vincenzo shot back, his voice still laced with the sting of his laugh. “In just a few days in Savoca, my car’s been blown to bits, my house reduced to rubble, and I’m damn sure the next thing won’t be some possession—it’ll be my body scattered broken across the street. Tell me, does that sound like I’m not keeping up my end?”A heavy silence settled over the call, so thick it seemed to seep into the room. Vincenzo raised th