The Heirmaker's Bride のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

The headmaster swallowed audibly.“But… why Italy?” he dared to ask.There was a pause.Then Nikolai’s godfather answered, as if this was the most reasonable explanation on earth.“Because Nikolai prefers Italy.”The line went dead quiet.You could practically hear the headmaster’s soul leaving his body.“I see,” the man whispered. Because what else could he say?By lunchtime, flights were being cancelled and rebooked like shopping items.Paris tickets? Discarded.Non refundable fees? Doesn’t matter.Thousands bleeding into nothing? A rounding error.Nikolai’s godmother signed off payments while sipping tea like she was ordering groceries.“Add the premium seats for the kids,” she said. “They can’t sit cramped.”Her assistant hesitated. “For all of them, ma’am?”She blinked, offended. “Of course. They’re children.”More money moved.It wasn’t even a question.Then came the hotel discussions.“What about the children’s hotel?” the godfather asked the school coordinator politely. “Do yo

The bus rolled out of the school grounds like a moving fortress wrapped in innocence.Inside, it sounded like a hundred dreams colliding.Children shouted over each other, comparing snacks, trading seats, waving at parents through foggy windows with palms pressed to glass.The air smelled like perfume from over worried mothers and the sugary excitement of a trip that felt like freedom.Nikolai was in his element.He sat near the middle of the bus with Yaroslav and two other boys clustered around him like he was the leader of a tiny kingdom. His eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed, hands moving wildly as he talked.“I’m telling you,” Nikolai declared, voice full of authority, “real pasta is not like the pasta here. It’s going to be different.”Yaroslav snorted. “Pasta is pasta.”Nikolai gasped like that was the most ignorant thing ever spoken. “No! That is what uncultured people say.”The boys burst into laughter.One girl leaned across the aisle. “Are you going to eat pizza every day

The physician’s voice shook. “Your number is blocked, sir.”Damian’s hand curled into the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white.Someone had blocked him.The audacity of it made his vision flash.He erupted.He tore at the bedrail. Threw the water cup. Swore until even the older nurse crossed herself quietly like she’d stepped into a demon’s home.“GET OUT!” Damian roared. “All of you! Out!”They fled.And when the room emptied, Damian lay there shaking, rage boiling into something darker.Something obsessive.Because now it wasn’t just about his legs.It wasn’t just about recovery.It was about control.About the fact that Dr. Voss had become a wall he couldn’t punch through.He stared at the ceiling, teeth clenched, then barked into his secure line again.“Bring him in,” he ordered.Minutes later, his man arrived, stepping into the room with wary caution. The kind of caution men used around unstable kings.“Boss,” the man said quietly.Damian didn’t waste breath. “Report.”The ma

Gianni’s expression tightened. “Boss… what exactly are you planning?”Damian’s gaze went colder.“I’m planning to walk again,” he said. “And I’m planning to make her come to me.”Gianni looked uneasy. “The Volkovs will retaliate if you...”“I’m not touching him,” Damian snapped. “I’m not harming a child.”He paused, eyes narrowing.“But I’m making sure he doesn’t leave Italy.”Gianni went still.Damian’s voice lowered, precise.“Accidents happen,” he murmured. “Flights get delayed. Routes change. Paperwork becomes complicated. Security protocols tighten. Teachers get new instructions. The trip gets extended.”Gianni understood then.This wasn’t violence.This was strategy.A cage made of gold and logistics.A trap so clean no one could call it a crime.Damian smiled faintly again.“Dr. Voss will come,” he said. “Because she won’t risk her son being stuck in a foreign country with unknown dangers.”Gianni swallowed. “And when she arrives?”Damian’s gaze sharpened like a blade.“She wil

Nikolai slipped out like a whisper.No dramatic escape. No loud creaking doors. No clumsy footsteps that would alert the hallway guards.Just a small boy in a hoodie, cap pulled low, and a confidence too big for his size.He cracked the door open first, peeking into the hallway.Silence.No teacher pacing.No security leaning against the walls.No stern chaperone ready to snap his name like a whip.Nikolai blinked once.Then twice.And for a second, he just stared, suspicious.Because his mummy’s rules had made him believe Italy would be full of eyes.Full of danger.Full of people watching.Yet the corridor was empty like the building itself was asleep.A thrill ran down Nikolai’s spine.Fate likes me, he thought with quiet satisfaction.He stepped out.The carpet swallowed his footsteps. The dim hallway lights made his shadow long and skinny behind him like a secret following him.He walked calmly, not running, because running looked guilty.He walked like he belonged there.Like he