บททั้งหมดของ Maid To The Three Mafia Kings: บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Mr. Jameson, his brow furrowed and his face etched with worry, leaned forward in his chair. “The man was Bartok, one of Emilio’s most trusted men,” he paused, glancing at Ethan, who sat across from him, a glass of brandy in hand. “He’s not someone Emilio would send lightly.”He and Evan were gathered in Ethan’s office to discuss the recent events.Ethan, usually calm and composed, felt a surge of frustration welling up inside him. He tightened his grip on the crystal glass, the amber liquid swirling gently as he took a sip, trying to calm his nerves. The taste was familiar and comforting, but it did little to ease his mind. “The Brix office was bombed last month,” he began. “The Vanguard office was hit two weeks ago; our new offices are being targeted, one after another. But why did Emilio suddenly send his men here instead of to the new office in New York?”Evan, casually sprawled on the leather sofa, glanced up from his drink. “Don’t ask me—he didn’t fill me in on that plan,” he sai

Millie stood under the hot water, her body sore from the long day and the fresh bruises Marionne had left. The spray stung her skin, each droplet making her flinch. She reached for the shampoo, hoping it would help her feel a little better, but as soon as her fingers touched her scalp—still tender from where Marionne had yanked her hair—she gasped from the pain.Even adjusting the showerhead sent a jolt through her ribs, where Marionne had kicked her. Every small move seemed to make things worse.Her mind felt foggy, like she was running on autopilot. She leaned back against the cool tiles, the cold pressing into her skin, a sharp contrast to the heat burning through her bruises.She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, trying to push away the memory of what happened, letting the steam fill the silence instead.In the other room, Clara sat on her bed, unusually quiet. She hadn’t said a word since their fight. Now she was folding laundry, the soft sound of clothes the only thing

There was a flicker of hurt in Evan's eyes, but he quickly pushed it down. “I get it." He turned away, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to pull himself together. Then he turned back to her, like he couldn’t hold it in any longer.“This afternoon…” he started, his voice low. “I almost—Why did you let me? Why did you let me kiss you?”Millie stared at him, her heart pounding. “What do you mean, why?”He stepped closer. “Aidan’s in love with you. And I know he means something to you, too. So why didn’t you stop me?” She shook her head. “I... I don’t know. I just didn’t want you to stop.”Then his expression darkened. “Is it because I’m a Moretti? Do you feel like you don’t have a choice?”Slowly, he walked toward her. He set his glass on the table and, to her surprise, knelt in front of her, his eyes locked on hers.Millie's breath caught when his hands reached for her, resting briefly on her lap before sliding down, brushing against her calves under her skirt. Millie’s

Ethan leaned back in his leather chair. His eyebrow arched in mock curiosity as he crossed his arms over his chest, giving Aidan a look that was equal parts disbelief and amusement.“I was going to ask why,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm, “but then I remembered your confession last night. Honestly, I thought you were just drunk out of your mind.” He leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes as he sized up his younger brother. “So instead, I’m going to ask—have you gone mad?”Aidan stopped pacing, his shoes scuffing lightly against the hardwood floor as he turned to meet Ethan’s stare. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I don’t love Marionne,” he said, his voice steady. “She’s a friend, and I think I just realized what a terrible person she is. There’s no way I could ever learn to love her.”Ethan scoffed. He shook his head slowly. “You just realized it now?” His voice dripped with condescension. “You’ve been friends since you were kids, Aidan. And love?” he uncrosse

Aidan realized he might have just carved his own grave. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. His heart was racing as he braced himself for his father’s words.A deep, disappointed sigh echoed through the phone, heavy and filled with frustration. “You had the easiest task, son.”Aidan gripped the phone tighter; his throat suddenly parched. “I know, Father.”“I know how much you enjoyed attending the Red Ball. But do you know why I’m sending Ethan instead of you?” Don Hugo paused. “Because you screwed everything up when you fucked Giancarlo Borgia’s wife. And the only thing keeping that man from gutting you is me, son.”“Father...” His heart stuttered as he was reminded of his stupid mistake.“Whatever it is that’s driving you to defy me,” Don Hugo continued, his tone cold as ice, “end it before I do it for you.”Then, without another word, the line fell silent. No storm brewed, just a sinister threat from his father.Aidan stood there, his chest rising and falling as if the