The Mafia Devil’s Wrong Bride のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 181 - チャプター 190

Dante Romano The moment the plane door opens, cold Paris air rushes into the cabin. I grab my coat from the overhead compartment, ignoring the staring passengers who recognize my face but pretend they don’t. Even across an ocean, fear translates. I guess my private jet having an issue at the last minute isn’t all that bad. Paris… I descend the stairs and step onto the tarmac. The city spreads out in the distance. A black Mercedes waits at the gate. And beside it stands Mackenzie Shane. Tall, sleek, and sharp-eyed, dressed in a dark coat that matches her clipped posture. She’s new, Connor chose her because she’s efficient and loyal enough not to ask the wrong questions. Or maybe because she knows nothing about the version of me I left bleeding in New York. “Mr. Romano,” she says, stepping forward. “Welcome to Paris.” I nod. No smile. I don’t remember how to give those anymore. Mackenzie moves around the car, opening the back door for me. “We should discuss the Muse & Co acquisit

Dante Romano When I step out of the hotel lobby, Mackenzie Shane is already waiting beside the sleek black sedan, tablet in hand. She’s good at pretending she isn’t nervous around me. Most people aren’t.“Good morning, Mr. Romano,” she says, opening the back door.I slide in without answering the greeting. She follows, settling across from me with her tablet already active.“First stop is MuseCo. The director has prepared all preliminary documents for the acquisition.” She swipes through. “They’re expecting you.”Of course they are.My jaw ticks as the car pulls into traffic. Paris rolls by outside. Soft pastel buildings, polished glass storefronts, people leisurely strolling like time doesn’t matter. I almost forgot places like this existed.I don’t like forgetting.Mackenzie continues, “Once MuseCo is finalized, the Leclair Academy project will move forward. I’ve already made an outline of…”“The school thing is your idea,” I remind her flatly. “Not mine.”“It’s mutually benefi

Annalissa Hale Wedding dress shopping is not something I ever imagined myself doing on a Saturday morning with two five-year-olds in tow, but here I am standing in the middle of a luxurious bridal boutique that smells faintly of lavender and expensive fabric, while chaos incarnate clings to my legs.Clarissa is already drifting between racks of gowns. Her fingers graze satin and lace with bright eyes in that way that tells me she’s allowing herself to be excited. Really excited. Not the careful, guarded kind.The twins, on the other hand, are unimpressed.“Mummy,” Kian announces loudly, tugging at my coat, “this place is boring.”Hania, standing beside him with her arms crossed, tilts her head critically at a dress mannequin. “I think it’s elegant,” she says. “But the hemline is impractical.”The sales assistant blinks. “Hemline? Impractical? How old are you?”Clarissa snorts. I press my lips together, trying not to laugh.“It’s a wedding dress, Hania,” I say gently. “It doesn’t

Dante Romano The car hums beneath us as we pull away from the curb. Mackenzie sits across from me in the backseat, tablet balanced on her knee, already in work mode. “Leclair Academy finalized the paperwork this morning,” she says without looking up. “The dean wants you to meet the other investors today. Mostly legacy families. Old money. They’re excited.”I grunt in response. Excitement is irrelevant. Results aren’t.Mackenzie scrolls. “Muse Co is progressing well. The takeover campaign is… surprisingly clean.”I glance at her. “Surprisingly?”She nods. “The strategist they hired is efficient. Discreet. Refuses spotlight. No unnecessary press, no ego-driven moves. It’s rare.”“So she’s doing her job,” I say flatly. “Why are we discussing it?”Mackenzie smiles faintly, like she expected that answer. “Just thought you’d like to know. Whoever she is, she understands power dynamics.”“Good,” I reply. “Then she won’t be a problem.”The car slows as we approach the academy. I hear it b

Annalissa HaleMornings in my apartment are never quiet.I wake to the sound of running water where there shouldn’t be running water, drawers slamming, and Kian loudly declaring that socks are optional if you truly believe in yourself. I lie there for exactly three seconds, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is what surrender feels like.“Why are there footsteps on my walls?” I call out, pushing myself upright.“Mummy!” Hania’s voice floats in, far too cheerful for this hour. “Kian is using your lipstick to draw muscles on his arms.”“I am absolutely not…” Kian protests, then pauses. “Okay, maybe a little.”I groan and drag myself out of bed.By the time I make it to the living room, chaos has fully bloomed. Kian is shirtless, flexing in front of the mirror with red smudges on his arms, while Hania stands nearby with crossed arms, already dressed and glaring at him like a disappointed manager.“You said you’d wear the blue shirt,” she says.“I changed my mind,” Kian replies.