บททั้งหมดของ Falling for my Saviour: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

Damien Damien didn’t see Aria in the house when he stepped inside. The living room lights were on, but the entire place felt too still. He checked the kitchen. Empty. Checked the terrace. Nobody. He exhaled slowly and reached for his phone. She picked up on the second ring, her voice soft and steady. “Are you still at your mom’s place?” he asked, loosening his tie as he walked toward his office. “Yes,” she said. “I want to stay here tonight. I want to feel everything. I want to walk around the house and remember what I can. I hope that’s okay.” He paused by the doorway, fingers tightening around the frame for a second. “I understand,” he said. “Do you want me to come pick you up?” “No,” she whispered. “I want to stay.” He nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “Alright. Good night.” “Good night.” He almost hung up, but she spoke again. “I… love you.” He shut his eyes for a moment. “I love you too.” When the call ended, he went into his office and set his ph

Aria Valeria and her friends arrived before noon with enough noise to fill the entire house. Their laughter carried from the living room in sharp bursts that made me pause on the staircase. I didn’t want to walk in there, but turning back would look strange, so I kept moving. The moment I stepped into the room, all four of them looked at me at once. Valeria stood with a wine glass in her hand, smiling like she had been waiting for me to show up. She waved me closer as if we were friends even though something inside me always tightened whenever she smiled like that. “Aria, come sit,” she said brightly. “I want you to meet my girls.” There were three of them. All dressed like the living room was a runway, sitting with their legs crossed and their handbags on the table as if they were decorating the space. One of them whispered something to the other while staring directly at me, and a small laugh followed. I ignored it as politely as I could and took a seat across from Valeria

Damien I drove straight to her mother’s house without thinking about anything else. My hands stayed locked around the wheel the entire way, and every turn felt too slow even when the car pushed far beyond the limit. Nothing in me cared about traffic or lights or how reckless it looked from the outside. The only thing I could think about was Aria leaving like that, her face pale with confusion and hurt, her steps unsteady in a way I had never seen before. Each thought doubled back on itself, twisting the same accusation through my chest until it felt like pressure building behind my ribs. You let this happen. You pushed her into this. By the time I pulled up in front of the house, my pulse was doing its own frantic rhythm. Warm light came from behind the curtains, hinting someone was still awake. I got out of the car quickly, slammed the door harder than I meant to, and walked straight to the entrance. I didn’t knock softly. I hit the door once, paused, then knocked again hard

Damien was still in his office going through documents when his phone buzzed. He expected Knox or Christiano, maybe another update about repairs or the factory, but the caller ID showed an unfamiliar number. He answered anyway, already standing from his chair because something in the tone of the first word pulled him upright. “Is this Damien Wolfe?” the officer asked. “Yes.” “We need you to come to the city hospital. There’s been an incident involving a trafficking transport. Your name came up in our missing persons list. A girl who fits the file you submitted years ago was found.” Damien didn’t wait for more. He grabbed his keys, headed straight for the door, and only said one thing before hanging up. “Where exactly is she?” He didn’t think about the road the entire drive. He didn’t think about traffic or lights or anything except that one sentence repeating in his head like it wanted to tear out of him. A girl who fits the file. He had heard fake leads before, had heard

Aria I spent the afternoon in the kitchen with my mom, helping her prepare one of her recipes. She moved around the space like she’d been doing it every day for years, and I tried to copy each step she showed me. She passed me a bowl of tomatoes and told me to add them little by little so they wouldn’t ruin the consistency of the sauce. I leaned closer to the pot and sprinkled them cautiously, trying not to make a mess. “You used to stand on a stool beside me and toss everything in at once,” she said with a small smile. “Then you’d laugh when I had to fix it. You were mischievous even as a child.” I smiled back even though I couldn’t fully remember the moment she talked about. Listening to her stories filled a space in me that had been empty for a long time. I stirred the sauce and let the rhythm calm me. My mom moved to the counter and folded a cloth neatly before looking at me again. “Now that you’ve settled in, I want to ask you something important,” she said gently. “Do