บททั้งหมดของ Maid To The Three Mafia Kings: บทที่ 241 - บทที่ 250

The morning after the attack on Don Gustavo’s villa, Ethan sat in the driver’s seat of his sedan, parked on a quiet side street. The dashboard clock ticked past 7 a.m. Outside, the city was waking up—delivery vans rumbled by, a woman walked her dog, oblivious to the events that had unfolded hours ago.Ethan’s knuckles were still bruised from the fight, his eyes fixed on a crumpled newspaper on the passenger seat. The headline screamed: “Bloodbath: Gang War Suspected.” Below it, a grainy photo showed police tape around Gustavo’s estate, officers in vests milling about.The news had been relentless since dawn, every channel looping footage of the villa’s shattered gates and bullet-riddled walls. Reporters called it a “mafia hit,” speculating about rival factions, but the police, as always, were cagey—releasing vague statements about “ongoing investigations” and “organized crime.” To them, it was another day in the underworld, a high-profile mess they’d sweep under the rug with minimal a

Before dawn, Evan left the convent, climbing into a black SUV as two trucks and three cars filled with armed men roared to life behind him. The convoy tore through the early morning, headlights slicing through the dark, the roads empty as they drove for an hour toward Boulogne-Billancourt.Soon, the suburb unfolded around them, its wealth evident in manicured lawns and gated estates, but they pushed deeper to a secluded stretch where Don Hugo’s mansion loomed. Guards patrolled the grounds, their rifles visible, security cameras glinting under floodlights.The convoy stopped on a low hill a half-mile out, hidden by a cluster of trees, the mansion’s silhouette clear against the pre-dawn sky. Evan climbed onto the roof of a truck and scanned the estate through binoculars, his jaw tight. He pulled out his phone and dialed Don Hugo, the call connecting after a single ring.“Don Hugo,” he said.“You better be calling to say you’ve burned that damn island, Evan,” Don Hugo snarled, “or your p

Aidan’s SUV jolted over the rutted dirt road, tires crunching against gravel as he sped toward the abandoned house Marionne had named. In his rearview mirror, another car trailed close—Leandro’s men. The thirty-minute drive from the main road led to a forgotten corner where the city’s sprawl gave way to overgrown fields.As they crested a hill, the house came into view—a crumbling two-story structure on a weed-choked lawn, its paint peeled to gray wood, windows boarded or shattered. Gnarled trees loomed in the backyard, their branches casting jagged shadows across the grass.Aidan drove, his jaw tight, with Leandro beside him. They slowed as they approached, pulling up a hundred yards from the house, where a black van was parked, its lights on. Marionne stood outside, flanked by four armed men in dark jackets, their guns slung low.Aidan left the car idling, its headlights casting a stark glow across the night-shrouded surroundings. He stepped out, his boots sinking into the soft dirt

Evan sat in the dim cabin of his private plane. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, the overhead lights casting a soft glow over Rose, who lay on a makeshift medical bed across from him. She was asleep, her face still bruised, her breathing shallow but steady. An IV line snaked from her hand, connected to a bag of fluids hanging above, and a blanket was tucked around her, the work of the two medics who had stabilized her after the rescue. Her bloodied clothes had been replaced with a clean gown, though the marks of Don Hugo’s cruelty lingered on her skin.Evan stayed by her side, his chair pulled close, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly. He watched her chest rise and fall, each breath a small victory after the horror of finding her chained in that underground room. The memory of Don Hugo’s death—his blood pooling on the grass—felt distant now, overshadowed by Rose’s fragile state. He had saved her, but the cost was etched in her bruises, in the weight he ca

“Amelia, Clara’s in the hospital,” Aidan said, his voice rough. “She’s being treated, but it’s bad. Marionne kidnapped her, and things went to hell.”Millie’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening. “Oh my God, is she okay?”“She’s alive,” Aidan said, his tone grim. “But she needs time. Can you come?”Millie nodded, though Aidan couldn’t see, and handed the phone back to Evan, her voice shaking. “Evan, Clara’s in the hospital. Marionne took her.”Evan’s jaw tightened, and he took the phone, his voice sharp. “Aidan, what happened?”“Marionne lost it,” Aidan said, exhaustion clear in his words. “She kidnapped Clara and tried to force some insane plan. It ended with her dead and Clara hurt. She’s at a private hospital now, getting treatment.”“Alright,” Evan said, his mind already shifting gears. “We’re coming.”He ended the call, and Millie was already moving, pulling a bag from the closet, her hands quick as she packed clothes and essentials. They left the room and headed for the ai