All Chapters of Whisked Away : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The house was too quiet.Every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo in Amara’s chest as she moved through the halls with a shawl wrapped tightly around her. The staff had retired, security cameras swept the grounds, and Luca was still locked in his war room, poring over legal strategies with his team.It was the perfect cover.Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she silenced the voice screaming inside her: Don’t go. Don’t trust him. Luca will never forgive this.But another voice whispered louder. You’ll never be free until you know the truth.Outside, the night air bit at her skin as she slipped into the backseat of the waiting car.The driver, a nondescript man in a dark cap didn’t speak. He merely nodded once and drove. The city blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow, and with every passing block, her chest tightened.What am I doing?What if this is the biggest mistake of my life?She clasped her shaking hands together and pressed them against her lips.Meanwhile, Luca

The room seemed smaller than it had been moments ago, its walls pressing inward, suffocating, as if the house itself was holding its breath. Amara stood rooted to the floor, the weight of two men’s expectations bearing down on her shoulders.Ethan’s words still rang in her ears, silence is a choice, and silence will always favor him. They were a dagger dressed in truth, and she hated how deeply they struck.Luca’s hand was still extended toward her. A quiet offering. No demand, no push. Just presence.“Amara.” His voice cracked, soft but full of everything he couldn’t say outright. “Don’t let him turn this into a spectacle.”Ethan’s chuckle slithered across the space between them. “But it is a spectacle, brother. Isn’t that the tragedy? She stands at the very edge of herself and she still thinks she can pretend it’s not a stage.” He angled his head toward Amara, his smile both mocking and seductive. “What are you afraid of? That you might actually want the darkness more than his hollo

The city didn’t sleep, not for people like them.By morning, Amara’s phone was a battlefield. Hundreds of notifications, trending hashtags twisting her name, strangers debating her character as if she were a scandal rather than a person.Luca had confiscated the phone at dawn, shoving it into a drawer, but even without the device, Amara heard the noise. It lived in the corners of her mind, a constant hum of judgment.She curled on the sofa, arms wrapped around herself. Her tea went cold again.Ethan’s words replayed, poisonous and persuasive. If not me, they’ll twist you worse. Freedom is a lie.She shook her head hard, like she could physically push them away.But Luca noticed. He always noticed.“You don’t have to read any of it,” he said gently, sitting across from her. “They’ll choke on their own noise soon enough. I’ll make sure of it.”Her lips trembled. “How do you fight someone who knows exactly where to cut?”He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes steady. “You don’t fig

The phone burned hot in Amara’s hand. One small device, one short message, yet it carried the weight of every sleepless night, every doubt Luca had begged her not to entertain.She didn’t reply, not yet. But she didn’t delete it either. That was enough. A secret choice. A seed Ethan had planted, watered with her weakness.When Luca returned from the kitchen, his voice steady but tight from the call, she shoved the phone beneath a pillow. He kissed her temple, soft, careful, as if she might break. And she smiled. A hollow, brittle smile.That night, sleep refused her. She lay awake, the city lights stretching like restless veins across the skyline. Beside her, Luca’s breathing was even, protective in its rhythm. Yet she felt utterly alone.And then her hidden phone lit up again.Ethan: They don’t see you, Amara. Not like I do. They see a story. I see you.Her chest clenched. Slowly, silently, she typed back.Amara: Stop.A pause. Then.Ethan: I will. If you come. Just once. One convers

The old quarter was quiet, its cobblestone streets slick with rain. Amara kept her hood up as she walked, her heartbeat thundering louder than her footsteps. Every window she passed felt like an eye. Every corner, a trap.The chapel appeared at the end of the lane, small, weathered, its stone walls streaked with moss. Its bell tower was cracked, leaning, like it had been forgotten by time.She hesitated at the door. Her hand trembled against the wood. One push, and she’d be inside with him. One push, and there would be no undoing it.The hinges groaned as she stepped in.The interior was dim, lit only by the fractured light through stained glass. Dust floated in the air, and in the front pew, Ethan sat with his head bowed, like a penitent sinner waiting for absolution.When he looked up, his smile was slow, inevitable. “You came.”Her throat tightened. “Don’t make this sound like fate.”“Isn’t it?” He stood, the shadows clinging to him as if reluctant to let him go. “After everything