All Chapters of Whisked Away : Chapter 151 - Chapter 159

For the first time in years, Ethan wasn’t the one setting the agenda.New York buzzed with a restless undercurrent,coffee shop conversations interrupted by mentions of Amara’s speech, hushed whispers in offices where her name had once been unknown, group chats lighting up with links to the viral video. Even strangers on the subway debated it. Some defended Ethan, others tore him down, but almost everyone was talking.What had once been Ethan’s invisible dominion,his carefully purchased silence, was cracking.Amara, meanwhile, remained inside the brownstone, the world hammering against her through glowing screens and vibrating notifications. From dawn until dusk, emails, direct messages, and news alerts arrived like waves against the shore. She read some, skimmed others, but every word etched itself into her bones.Some called her liar. Others hailed her as a warrior. Both tore at her in different ways.And yet, beneath the chaos, one truth hummed steady, the silence was broken.Luca h

The photograph burned in Amara’s hand long after Luca tore it away.Even after he had stormed into the living room, pacing like a caged predator, she could still feel the weight of the threat pressed into her palm.Her hands trembled as she tucked Noah into bed, smoothing his hair with shaking fingers, whispering a lullaby through her tears. He was too young to understand why her arms clung to him longer that night, why her lips pressed against his forehead like a promise she was terrified of breaking.When she returned downstairs, Luca was still pacing, fists clenched, the photo on the coffee table. The air between them vibrated with unspoken terror.“This isn’t just about you anymore,” Luca said, his voice a low growl. “He’s crossed a line. Threatening your son—” He stopped, biting down so hard his jaw ached. “I won’t allow it.”Amara sank onto the sofa, pulling her knees close, her voice breaking.“I knew he’d come after me. I knew he’d try to tear apart my story, ruin my name. But

Three years had passed since the storm broke.Not the kind of storm that rattled windowpanes or flooded streets, but the one that cracked lives open, laying bare every fragile seam. In the wake of Ethan’s downfall, the media circus had eventually quieted, scandals had been archived, and the city had moved on to fresher headlines. But for Amara, Luca, and Noah, the years since had been less about moving on and more about stitching themselves into a fabric that was stronger than what had existed before.Brooklyn smelled different in the mornings now. Or maybe Amara smelled it differently. Gone were the mornings of waking with her heart hammering against her ribs, ears trained for the echo of threats that had once haunted their every corner. Now she woke to the hum of ordinary life, the hiss of the coffee maker, the faint laughter of children heading to school, the creak of Luca’s footsteps in the hallway.Their brownstone wasn’t grand, but it was theirs. A place purchased not for status

The past, Amara had learned, never died cleanly.Even after Ethan’s conviction and sentencing, even after five years of slow healing, his name still had the power to snake its way into headlines. Every time another powerful man faced accusations, the media dredged up Ethan’s trial, reprinting old photographs of Amara leaving the courthouse, her face pale but unbroken, her hand in Luca’s.Sometimes the stories framed her as a heroine. Sometimes they questioned her motives. Always, she was there again, a reluctant shadow in the narrative.One spring morning, Amara woke to find Luca already in the kitchen, the smell of espresso curling through the air. He was standing at the counter, his brow furrowed as he scrolled through something on his tablet.“What is it?” Amara asked, tying her robe around her waist.Luca hesitated. Then he turned the screen toward her.The headline blared:“Ethan Files Appeal: Claims Evidence Was Mishandled, Seeks New Trial.”Amara’s stomach dropped.For a moment