All Chapters of His Unwanted Witness : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Hidden deep inside a forgotten industrial district — one of Lorenzo’s earliest safe houses. Concrete walls. Iron doors. No windows. The perfect place for a man who didn’t want to be found.A single lamp flickered gently in the center of the room, illuminating only one object:A wide surveillance monitor.Six screens.Each one showing a different angle of a busy European marina — sunny skies, tourists walking, ships docking, people laughing. A normal scene.Except Lorenzo wasn’t watching the tourists.He was watching one girl.On the third screen, a young woman with long black hair stepped out of a café, carrying a small brown bag. She wore a simple dress and large sunglasses. She moved with elegance, with calm confidence — unaware she was being watched.Isadora Sinclair.The stolen heiress.The girl who lived a life that was never hers, yet should have belonged to him.Lorenzo leaned back in his cracked leather chair, the dim yellow light casting hard shadows across the room. His real

Isadora’s eyes twitched, her breathing shallow. Her head throbbed as she slowly regained consciousness. When she finally opened her eyes Darkness. Only a faint, flickering bulb overhead illuminated the cramped storage room she was locked inside. Her wrists were tied tightly behind her back with thick rope. Her ankles were bound too, keeping her from moving more than a few inches. She tried to shift Immediately pain shot through her arms from the tight restraints. A panicked breath escaped her lips. “W–Where… where am I?” Her voice echoed sharply against the metal walls. Then she heard it. The sound of waves, heavy and crashing. A deep engine rumble beneath her. The swaying floor. She froze. She was on a boat. A big one. “No… no, no, no,” she whispered, heart racing. She pulled at her ropes. Nothing moved. She tried again. Harder. Still nothing. Fear crawled up her spine. “HELP!” she screamed suddenly, voice shaking. “Somebody! PLEASE! Help me!” Her s

The room was cold.Not the normal type of cold~no.This cold crawled along the walls, slid down the steel floors, and wrapped itself around anyone who dared to enter.But Lorenzo Sinclair loved it.He sat in a wide leather chair, elbows resting on the armrest, eyes locked on the glowing wall of monitors in front of him.Each screen showed a different angle of a different place: the dock the cargo boat leaving the foreign coastthe ocean map tracking its route the interior of the boatand a grainy but clear shot of Isadora Sinclair, unconscious, lying on the deck with her wrists tied.Lorenzo smiled slowly.A smile that didn’t belong to someone sane.A smile that stretched too far.“Perfect,” he whispered, leaning forward. “You’re on your way now, princess.”He tapped the screen, his fingertip lightly brushing the digital image of her sleeping face.“She looks just like Celeste,” he murmured. “But stronger. Sharper. Alive.”He tilted his head slightly.“Unlike your mother.”A soft k

The metal door groaned wider, and a shadow stretched across the cold stone floor.Isadora’s breath hitched.A man stepped inside.Tall. Slow. Calm.He closed the door behind him with a soft click, locking them both inside.Lorenzo.But not the face she remembered from photos circulating in the Sinclair files.This face was different—sharper, colder, stripped of humanity. His true face.His real identity.Isadora pressed herself harder against the wall, hands still tied behind her back. She glared at him even though her chest shook.Lorenzo smiled at her reaction.“Isadora Sinclair,” he said slowly, savoring each word. “Finally. The real one.”She swallowed. “Stay away from me.”He chuckled softly. “You’re bold. I like that.”“I’m warning you,” Isadora snapped, her voice cracking slightly. “If you touch me—”Lorenzo raised a hand lazily.“Relax. I didn’t bring you here for… that.” His tone was mocking. “Don’t flatter yourself.”Isadora’s cheeks burned with anger. “Then why did you take

The metal door screeched open.Isadora jerked awake instantly, her wrists throbbing against the rope that tied her hands behind her back. Her throat was dry. Her head ached. Her legs were stiff from being forced to sit on the cold stone floor all night.Lorenzo stepped inside.He held a tray in one hand — a plate of rice, a small bowl of soup, and a bottle of water.His footsteps echoed slowly as he walked toward her.His eyes were calm. Too calm.Isadora glared at him. “I’m not eating anything.”Lorenzo chuckled. “You don’t even know what I’m offering you.”“I don’t care,” Isadora snapped. “I’m not eating your food.”He stopped right in front of her and crouched, placing the tray down carefully.He tilted his head slightly, studying her with interest.“You look exhausted,” he said softly. “You’ll pass out if you don’t eat.”“Good,” Isadora hissed. “Let me pass out. I don’t want anything from you.”Lorenzo smiled. Slow. Controlled. Cold.“You’re stubborn,” he murmured. “Just like your