All Chapters of OWNED BY THE ENEMY, His Dark Claim: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

Victor’s POV I was halfway to see my father when my phone rang. Salvo. I picked up immediately. “I found it,” he said. His voice carried the excitement of someone who knew he had done something important. “The pregnancy result you asked me to look for.” I slowed the car slightly. “Where are you?” I asked. “At the house.” “Stay there,” I told him. “I’m coming.” The call ended. For a moment, I sat there thinking. I had been on my way to visit my father. But that could wait. My father had waited long enough already. What Salvo had just found was far more important right now. So I turned the car around. If I wanted to survive in this world, I needed leverage. Real leverage. Because the only man who used to handle things like this for me— Was now locked up by La Camorra. And I had no intention of ending up like my father. Betrayed. Then imprisoned. When I arrived at the house, Salvo was already waiting. The moment I stepped inside, I saw the paper in his hand. H

Victor’s POVWhen I arrived at Don Francesco’s estate, I saw him outside.Waiting.That alone was enough to tell me this meeting mattered.Don Francesco never waited for anyone.Especially not for me.His men stood a few steps behind him like statues while he rested his hands on the railing of the terrace, looking out across the garden.The moment my car stopped, I stepped out and walked toward him.Before I could even greet him, he smiled.A wide, almost welcoming smile.That was the second strange thing.Don Francesco was not a man known for kindness.“Victor,” he said warmly. “You took your time.”I studied him carefully.Too friendly.Too relaxed.Something was wrong.So instead of playing along, I went straight to the point.“What’s the deal?” I asked. “And why are you suddenly being nice to me?”His smile widened slightly, as if he enjoyed the bluntness.Don Francesco turned and leaned against the railing.“I heard you found something,” he said calmly.Something.That word alone

Alessandro’s POV The truth is— I didn’t speak to Amara before going to see Victor. I didn’t ask for her opinion. I didn’t ask if she would want me to go. I didn’t ask if she would be comfortable with it. In fact, I didn’t ask her anything about Victor at all. The decision was entirely mine. And it wasn’t a random decision. It came after everything that had happened. After the warehouse incident. After Genoa. After the dinner. And most recently—after what I discovered earlier that day. Salvo. Victor’s man. The same man the truck driver had described. The one who threatened him with a knife and forced them to turn the truck around. Men like Salvo don’t make decisions on their own. They follow instructions. Which meant someone had ordered him to do it. And there was only one person he answered to. Victor. Add that to the drama at dinner—the accusations, the assumptions he kept throwing toward Amara—and it became clear to me that letting Victor walk freely into my

Amara’s POV Upon arriving at the store, Laura and I drifted into the women's section, where the air was thick with the scents of fabrics and perfume. Alessandro and Marco had veered off to the men's section, disappearing into the rows of suits and button-downs. With the help of an attentive sales associate, we began sifting through racks of dresses, the attendant showing us different designs with a practiced smile. I watched as Laura held up a flowy sundress, her face lighting up with excitement before she tossed it onto the "yes" pile. A sleek black number earned a dismissive flick of her wrist – too plain, too boring. The rejected dresses accumulated on a nearby chair, a testament to her discerning taste. When she'd amassed a small pile of favorites, she vanished into the fitting room, leaving me alone amidst the swirl of fabrics. The attendant hovered nearby, offering smiles and suggestions, but I'd barely registered her presence. My mind wandered as I drifted through the r

Victor’s POV I made sure the first light of morning met me at the hospital. The last four days had been unbearable. Not because I was worried. Because I was waiting. Every two hours, I called the nurses’ station to ask if the DNA results were ready. By the third day, I was certain they had started ignoring my calls. By the fourth, they barely bothered hiding their irritation. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the envelope they were finally placing in my hands. “Please wait a few minutes,” the receptionist said politely. A few minutes. People always said that like it meant nothing. Like waiting wasn’t its own kind of torture. When the results finally arrived, I didn’t bother opening the envelope properly. I tore it open. My eyes scanned the page once. Then again. Slowly this time. Carefully. And there it was. Confirmation. Not just proof that Marco and Amara shared a past. Proof that Venera belonged to him. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Low