All Chapters of Whisked Away : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

For days they had been shadows in their own home, jumping at flickers of light, silencing their own laughter for fear it was being recorded. But something broke inside Amara after watching the video of Noah go viral.She refused to let Ethan define her child’s voice, his fear, as entertainment for the world.And Luca, watching her shoulders square despite exhaustion, knew this wasn’t just about protecting their family anymore. It was about reclaiming the narrative, reclaiming their dignity.La Stella’s private dining room, normally a place of celebrations, became their war room. Heavy curtains shut out the city, and the table filled with laptops, files, cups of strong espresso.Luca’s inner circle gathered, three people he trusted with his life.Matteo Rossi, his oldest friend and head of security, with eyes that missed nothing.Clara Montrose, Luca’s PR strategist, a woman whose tongue was sharper than any blade.Dr. Khaled Omar, a discreet digital forensics expert, the kind of man c

The glow of the television still lingered in La Stella’s lounge, muted clips of Amara’s interview playing again and again as the world replayed her words. But inside the restaurant’s upper floors, the atmosphere was no longer one of anxiety. It was sharp. Focused.Luca closed the heavy oak door to his office and gestured for Matteo, Clara, and Dr. Khaled to gather around. Amara followed, Noah asleep in the safe cocoon of the apartment upstairs.“This is the window,” Luca said. His voice carried the weight of a man who’d made high-stakes deals but never one so personal. “Ethan is unsettled. He will retaliate—but in his arrogance, he’ll leave fingerprints. That’s when we move.”The Legal Web. Dr. Khaled slid a folder across the table. Inside, there were printouts, screenshots, call logs. “We’ve already traced three of the recording leaks to burner servers linked to shell companies, companies tied to Ethan’s portfolio. Nothing conclusive yet, but if he moves recklessly again, I can catch

The city was restless. Even in the early hours, when dawn blurred into pale gold across the skyline, Manhattan felt charged, like static waiting for the crack of lightning. Amara felt it in her bones as she woke that morning.Noah was still asleep in the guest room, his steady breathing a rhythm that soothed her nerves. But outside their cocoon, the world was sharpening its claws.She slipped from the bed carefully, not wanting to disturb Luca, though she should have known better.“You think I can’t feel when you’re not beside me?” Luca’s voice, rough with sleep, drifted through the room. He sat up, hair disheveled, the lines of fatigue softened by the faintest smile.Amara paused at the door. “You need sleep. Today’s going to be—”“War?” he supplied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Then all the more reason not to waste time.”By mid-morning, the penthouse had become a hive of movement. Clara was there with her ever-present tablet, firing off emails faster than most peopl

The morning after Amara’s statement, the City felt different.It wasn’t that the city had slowed, cabs still blared, skyscrapers still gleamed, the Hudson still carried its restless tide, but beneath the noise, something new hummed. A shift. A murmured current moving through newsrooms, offices, kitchens, and phones.For the first time since Ethan had unleashed his smear, the whispers weren’t just about Amara’s “unsuitability.” They were about her courage.At La Stella, the restaurant that had been Luca’s sanctuary and battleground alike, the kitchen buzzed. Chefs prepped for the day, knives chopping rhythmically against cutting boards, steam rising from simmering pots. But the chatter wasn’t about the menu.“Did you see it?” one line cook whispered, sliding diced onions into a pan.“Of course I did,” another replied, shaking her head with a smile. “I mean, she just, sat there and told her truth. No spin. No fancy set-up. And people believed her.”“She made me believe her,” the sous-ch

The morning broke not with sunlight but with a storm of headlines. Across the city , televisions in cafes, offices, and penthouses carried the same urgent story: “Ethan Under International Scrutiny.”Screens flickered with scrolling documents, leaked transfers, and expert analysts dissecting the implications. Anchors speculated on embezzlement, corruption, and corporate espionage. Commentators debated whether Ethan was untouchable or finally cornered.In one Lower newsroom, Sophia Delgado stood at the helm of her empire, her dark eyes glittering with satisfaction as her networks led the charge. She didn’t simply report the story—she shaped it, weaving in years of quiet suspicions, testimonies from anonymous insiders, and scathing editorials about Ethan’s methods.By midmorning, markets trembled. Shares in Ethan’s subsidiaries dipped. Two international banks froze accounts linked to his offshore networks. Old allies who had once kissed his ring began drafting cautious statements, dista