All Chapters of MINE TO CLAIM : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

“Why?” The word came out as barely a whisper as Dario stared down at the face he had known since childhood. Theodore Santos, his father’s brother, the man who had taught him to tie his shoes and shown him how to read financial statements. The uncle who had disappeared when Dario was twelve, supposedly killed in a rival family’s ambush. Alan appeared at Dario’s shoulder, his weapon trained on the dying man. “Boss, we need to move. Police response teams will be here soon.” “Take Ava,” Dario said without looking away from his uncle’s face. “Get her somewhere safe. Medical attention.” “Dario, I’m not leaving you,” Ava protested, her voice hoarse from the gag. “You are. Alan, that’s an order.” “Come on, Mrs. Santos,” Alan said gently, helping Ava to her feet. “Let’s get you checked out by a doctor.” Theodore’s laugh was wet and bitter as they moved away. “Still giving orders like you deserve to. Just like your father.” Dario knelt closer, his voice dropping to match his uncle’s wh

“Dario?”Ava’s voice cracked through the pre-dawn darkness as she bolted upright in bed, her heart hammering against her ribs. The nightmare clung to her consciousness like spider webs, fragments of drowning and darkness and Theodore’s bitter laughter echoing in her mind.She reached across the bed, her hand searching for the familiar warmth of his body. Instead, her fingers found only cold sheets and the devastating reality that flooded back like ice water in her veins.“Dario, where are you?” The question escaped her lips before rational thought could stop it. She knew where he was, or rather, where he wasn’t. But in the space between sleep and waking, her mind played cruel tricks, offering her moments of forgetfulness before slamming her back into grief.The bedroom felt enormous around her, shadows stretching from every corner like reaching fingers. Even with the curtains drawn, she could sense the vastness of the space, the way it seemed to swallow her whole without his presenc

“Turn off the television.”Rohan’s voice cut through the morning air in the penthouse living room, but Ava didn’t move from where she sat curled on the sofa. Her eyes remained fixed on the news anchor whose perfectly styled hair and grave expression delivered words that felt like physical blows.“—confirmed reports of a coordinated assault on what sources describe as an underground criminal organization. While official details remain scarce, anonymous sources suggest that Dario Santos, alleged head of the city’s most powerful crime family, was killed during the violent confrontation—”“Ava, please.” Rohan reached for the remote, but she pulled it closer to her chest.“I need to hear what they’re saying about him.”“You need to protect yourself and the baby from this garbage.” The news switched to aerial footage of the Shadow facility, now swarming with police vehicles and crime scene investigators. Yellow tape fluttered in the morning breeze like funeral ribbons, and reporters spoke

“The pain means you’re alive.”Rebecca’s voice carried the gentle authority of someone who had delivered this news to hundreds of patients over the years. Owen Moreles blinked slowly in the hospital bed, his eyes still unfocused from the lingering effects of anesthesia and pain medication.“Cara?” His voice came out as barely a whisper, throat raw from the breathing tube that had been removed hours earlier.“Right here, baby.” Cara squeezed his hand, her fingers interlaced with his in a grip that hadn’t loosened since the surgery ended. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, evidence of three days spent alternating between the hospital chair and brief trips home to shower and change clothes.“How long?”“Three days since the surgery. You’ve been drifting in and out for the past twelve hours.”Owen tried to sit up, then grimaced as the movement pulled at surgical sites and reminded him of injuries he’d temporarily forgotten. “The girls. Are they safe?”“They’re safe. Ava’s at the penthouse

“The baby needs more protein.” Rosa’s voice carried the gentle authority of someone who had spent decades ensuring people ate properly, regardless of their circumstances. She stirred the pasta sauce with one hand while arranging sliced avocado and grilled chicken on a plate with the other, her movements efficient and practiced.Ava shuffled into the kitchen wearing one of Dario’s oversized shirts over leggings, her bare feet silent on the marble floor. The afternoon light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows caught the auburn highlights in her red hair, which had grown longer in the weeks since she had stopped maintaining her usual professional appearance.“I’m not really hungry.”“The baby is hungry. That’s different.” Rosa set the plate on the breakfast bar and pulled out a stool. “Sit. You have been living on toast and orange juice for three days.”“I ate yesterday.”“You picked at a sandwich and left half of it on your plate. That’s not eating, mija, that’s preten