Semua Bab Mafia's Heir: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The rain had stopped, but its memory lingered — the streets outside glistening silver under the pale morning sun. Elena woke to the faint hum of distant voices and the smell of fresh coffee. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the room she was in. The ceiling was too high, the sheets too soft, the silence too heavy. Then it all came rushing back. The contract. The pen. Adrien D’Angelo’s eyes were watching her as she signed her freedom away. She sat up slowly, clutching the silk sheets against her chest. Her throat was dry, her heart pounding like she’d run a marathon in her sleep. Across the room, a maid was quietly arranging clothes on a wooden stand — all perfectly folded, neatly pressed. When the woman noticed her, she bowed slightly. “Good morning, Mrs. D’Angelo.” Elena froze. The name hit her like a slap. “Don’t call me that,” she said before she could stop herself. The maid’s eyes widened. “ I-I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr. D’Angelo said—” “Just… call me Elena,” she muttered, pul

The first light of dawn crept through the heavy drapes, painting soft gold across the polished floor. Elena hadn’t slept. The words Adrien said last night—Before I forget the terms of our deal—echoed in her mind like a warning she didn’t want to understand.She sat up slowly, the silk sheets whispering against her skin. Somewhere down the hall, faint voices murmured—men, low and serious. The sound of a door shutting. The hum of the mansion waking up.Her new prison.Elena wrapped herself in a robe and stepped out into the hallway. The marble beneath her feet was cold, her reflection faint in its polished surface. Every painting she passed seemed to watch her—stern men in dark suits, all bearing the same proud, cruel look as Adrien’s father. The D’Angelo legacy was carved into every corner of this house. Power. Control. Fear.At the end of the corridor, she saw a figure — Luca, Adrien’s right-hand man. He was leaning against the wall, dressed in black, his expression calm but alert.“M

Morning sunlight spilled across the marble floors of the D’Angelo mansion, but Elena barely noticed it.Sleep hadn’t found her — not after what she’d learned.Her father.Adrien’s father.And Adrien himself — standing in the middle of that truth like a living wound she couldn’t close.She wrapped her arms around herself as she stood by the window, watching the garden below. Guards in dark suits moved like shadows. Even the roses looked cruel here — beautiful, but surrounded by thorns.When the door opened behind her, she didn’t turn.“Elena,” Adrien said quietly.His voice always did that to her — soft and sharp at once, like silk over glass.“You don’t have to check on me,” she said. “I’m not planning to run.”“I know.” His tone was low, unreadable. “But you’re not safe wandering alone. Not anymore.”“Not safe in your father’s house,” she murmured. “What a surprise.”He exhaled slowly, stepping closer. “You’re angry. You have every right to be.”She turned then, meeting his eyes — co

The morning broke with a pale light filtering through the curtains, soft but cold. Elena hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep in the chair by the window until the faint sound of footsteps stirred her awake.Her eyes fluttered open. Adrien stood by the doorway, his jacket already on, his expression unreadable. There were faint shadows under his eyes the kind that spoke of another sleepless night.He didn’t say good morning. He never did.“We’re leaving again,” he said simply.She rubbed her eyes, disoriented. “Leaving? Where?”“There’s someone I need to meet,” he replied. “And I don’t trust anyone else enough to watch my back.”She blinked. “So you’re taking me with you?”Adrien’s gaze met hers sharp, steady, unreadable. “You wanted to know what kind of man I am, Elena. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”He turned to leave.She exhaled slowly, her heart caught between fear and something she couldn’t quite name. Trust me, he’d said last night. And though she wanted to hate him, she found he

The night they left the estate, the sky was moonless.Adrien moved through the dark with the precision of someone who’d done this too many times — every motion sharp, calculated. Elena followed close behind, her heart thundering in her chest as the gravel crunched under her shoes.He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The danger hung in the air like smoke.When they reached the car hidden behind the old stone wall, Adrien finally glanced her way. “Get in,” he said quietly, his voice carrying that low command she’d come to recognize — not cruel, but absolute.Elena slipped into the passenger seat as Adrien started the engine. The headlights stayed off until they were far from the gates. Only when the mansion disappeared behind the trees did he allow a single breath to escape his lungs.“Adrien,” she said, breaking the silence. “Who took that picture of me?”“I don’t know,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road. “But whoever it was… they were close. Too close.”“Could it be Alessandro?”Adri