Todos los capítulos de Oops! I Mistakenly Kidnapped The Mafia Don’s Heir: Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

Chapter 81Estelle✦༺⚜︎☠︎⚜︎༻✦The only sound in the car was the occasional whimper from Lily and the labored breathing of Marco as he fought to stay conscious.I sat in the front passenger seat, blood drying on my hands, my dress, probably in my hair. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that made everything feel distant and dreamlike.James Ashford was dead.I’d killed two men.Marco had been shot trying to save me.And somehow, impossibly, we were all still breathing.Behind me, Carrie sat stiffly, her face a mask of shock and grief. Thomas had his arm around his mother, trying to be brave. Lily was crying quietly into my shoulder.“Where are you taking us?” Carrie finally spoke, her voice hoarse.Kegan didn’t answer. His jaw was set, hands tight on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Blood seeped through his jacket from the wound on his shoulder, but he hadn’t said a word about it.“Kegan,” I tried. “She asked you a question.”“She’s in no posi

Chapter 83 Estelle ✦༺⚜︎☠︎⚜︎༻✦ “Is that really so bad?” He turned to face me. “Is having a life with me, being part of my family, building something real together—is that really worse than going back to your library job and your shitty apartment and barely scraping by?” My jaw dropped. “You think this is about money? About wanting to be rich and comfortable?” “Isn’t it? You’ve been living in luxury for months now. Designer clothes, expensive dinners, a job that pays more than you’d make in a year at that library. Are you really going to tell me you want to go back to that?” “If it means I get to make my own choices? Yes!” I was crying harder now, angry tears that I couldn’t stop. “I’d rather be poor and free than rich and trapped!” “You’re not trapped.” “Yes, I am! You’re literally telling me I have to go to Sicily, that I don’t have a choice, that my opinion doesn’t matter because you’ve decided what’s best for me!” My voice was rising to a shout again. “That’s the definition o

Chapter 85 Kegan ✦༺⚜︎☠︎⚜︎༻✦ Letizia cried twice during the meal, sending Allesia into a panic both times until Russel calmed her down and the baby quieted. Adelio spilled his juice and tried to blame it on his sister. Marcel made an inappropriate joke that had Dylan swatting him with a dish towel. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. And I felt like I was watching it all from behind glass. “You’re usually the liveliest, chattiest person on this table,” Dylan said from across the table. “I’m just tired.” “Brooding, more like. I can literally see the storm cloud over your head.” “I’m not brooding. I’m eating.” “You’re pushing food around your plate like a depressed teenager.” He grinned. “Want me to call her? I’ll call her right now. Tell her she’s an idiot for—” “Quit bringing her up.” “Why not? Someone needs to tell her.” “Because it won’t change anything.” I set down my fork. “Mind your own damn business.” Marcel leaned over, eavesdropping shamelessly. “I do think you’re

Chapter 87Estelle✦༺⚜︎☠︎⚜︎༻✦“Absolutely not,” I said for the third time.“Absolutely yes,” Vivian countered, holding up the yellow dress. “You’re going to this gallery opening whether you like it or not.”“I don’t even like art.”“You don’t have to like art. You just have to stand there, drink expensive champagne, and look beautiful while rich people pretend to understand abstract paintings.” She thrust the dress at me. “Now put this on before I physically wrestle you into it.”Four days had gone by since the encounter with Adrian, and my friends had apparently decided that the solution to my Kegan-shaped depression was to keep me so busy I didn’t have time to wallow.Monday: boutique hunting. We’d looked at seven different spaces before I’d finally signed a lease on a gorgeous corner shop in Notting Hill with floor-to-ceiling windows and exposed brick walls.Tuesday: furniture shopping. Vivian had dragged me through every high-end home store in London, insisting that my boutique ne

Chapter 89Estelle✦༺⚜︎☠︎⚜︎༻✦Reid picked me up at exactly seven o’clock in a sleek black Aston Martin.“You’re punctual,” I said as he opened the passenger door for me.“My mother raised me with manners,” he replied with that easy smile that had charmed me at the gallery. “Plus, I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Didn’t want to risk you changing your mind.”“Why would I change my mind?”“Because you seem like the type of woman who overthinks everything.” He closed my door and walked around to the driver’s side. “Not a criticism. Just an observation.”Well, he wasn’t wrong.The restaurant was tucked away on a quiet street in Soho—a place that didn’t need a sign because everyone who mattered already knew where it was. Inside was all warm lighting and exposed brick, with tables spaced far enough apart for actual privacy.“This is beautiful,” I said as we were seated in a corner booth.“I’m glad you like it. The owner is a friend from university. Antonio makes the best risotto in