Spoiled By My Overprotective Brothers のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Liana stood before the tall black doors of Draven Dusk’s penthouse, her pulse an unsteady rhythm under her skin. Paris stretched beneath her — gold lights over restless streets — but it was the silence behind that door that made her heart beat harder. Cassian’s words still haunted her. He doesn’t forget. He collects. And yet here she was, standing at the door of the man who terrified her brothers, the one they called a manipulator, a man whose power didn’t just command rooms — it consumed them. She wasn’t sure if she was walking into danger or destiny. The doors slid open before she could knock. Draven stood there, wearing a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar open just enough to make her forget how to breathe for a second. The dim light behind him caught the sharp angles of his face — too perfect, too unreadable. “You came,” he said, voice low and quiet, as t

Liana didn’t sleep that night.Every time she closed her eyes, the world shifted back to that dinner table — the dim golden light, Draven’s voice like smoke, the weight of the black folder between them. His words had clawed into her chest like something alive.Freedom. Control. Choice.Things she had fought for her entire life — and now he was offering them on a silver platter. But what he wanted in return… she didn’t even know.By dawn, her decision was still a tangled mess. She stepped into the shower hoping the water would wash it away. It didn’t.When she got downstairs, Leo was already at the dining table. Of course he was — punctual, precise, always in control. The kind of man who could look at a storm and command it to wait its turn.“Morning,” she said softly, sitting opposite him.He glanced up from his tablet. “You came home late again.”“Studio work,” she said quickly, though even she didn’t soun

The next morning, Liana barely slept. She moved through her studio like a ghost drifting between sketch tables and fabric racks, trying to pretend everything was normal. But nothing was normal anymore—not the way her brothers were treating her, not the way her heart kept racing unpredictably, not the way every decision she made now felt like a fuse waiting to ignite something bigger.Her staff kept stealing glances at her, whispering when they thought she couldn’t hear. She didn’t blame them. The energy around her had changed. Even the air felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.Just before noon, her receptionist peered into her office. “Miss Carver… someone is here to see you.”Liana didn’t look up from her sketches. “Who?”The receptionist hesitated. “He wouldn’t give a name, but he said you already know who he is.”Her stomach tightened. That could mean only one person.“Send him in,” she said quietly.The door opened, and Draven Dusk walked in like he owned the sun

Liana didn’t expect her day to end with a stranger waiting inside her studio lobby. The man stood near the front desk, tall and sharply dressed in charcoal gray, his presence so still and precise he almost blended into the shadows. His expression was unreadable, but his posture—straight-backed, disciplined—gave one thing away instantly. Draven Dusk didn’t send normal people. “Miss Carver?” the man asked the moment she stepped in. Her staff looked uneasy. Marcy kept glancing between the man and Liana like she wasn’t sure if she should call security or faint. “Yes?” Liana said cautiously. “Can I help you?” He approached her with measured steps, stopping at a respectful distance before giving a faint bow. “My name is Elias Ward. I’m an emissary from Dusk Industries.” His tone was calm, almost gentle, but it was the calm of a man trained not to show anything. “Mr. Dusk requested I deliver something to you.” Requested. Not asked. Not suggested. Requested—Draven language for he ex

Liana was sorting through fabric samples when her phone vibrated. She didn’t think much of it at first. It was probably Dante asking if she wanted pastries or Leo reminding her to eat lunch or Cassian sending another gentle threat disguised as advice.But the screen froze her in place.A number she didn’t know.Then the message:Please pick up. It is urgent. It is regarding Viktor Moretti.Her breath caught.For a moment she simply stared, hoping she had misread the name. Viktor. The mafia lord. The man her brothers despised. The man who dangerously, confusingly, persistently adored her.She answered the call hesitantly.“Hello?” Her voice sounded small, like it wasn’t sure it wanted to exist.“Miss Carver?” a rushed male voice replied. “You’re listed as the emergency contact for Mr. Viktor Moretti.”Liana blinked. “What?”“There wasn’t time to argue. He insisted. He’s been shot and brought into the ER. He keeps asking for you. We need you here immediately. He wants to see your face b