BLOOD TIE AND BROKEN VOWS のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

The garden was silent except for the wind sighing through the roses.Adriana lingered where Damian had left her the night before, her hand still trembling from the heat of his confession. Her lips still tasted of him, her heart still raced with his vow. She should have been terrified, but all she felt was a dangerous calm.I belong to him.The thought alone could have her father hang her, could have Luca put a bullet in her skull. But it was no longer something she could deny.She brushed her fingers across the nearest rose, red velvet petals cool against her skin. A thorn pricked her fingertip, a bead of blood rising bright against her pale hand.Blood and roses. Beauty and pain. Her world now.---By dusk, the villa hosted another gathering — smaller, but no less tense. The Rossis and Bianchis sat across long tables, voices low with strategy and suspicion. Adriana sat at Luca’s side, her back straight, her smile practiced, though her mind was elsewhere.Then, like the drop of a blad

The Rossi villa was a fortress—of marble, steel, and old blood—yet even fortresses had weaknesses. Adriana had spent her entire life within these walls, but only in recent weeks had she learned their hidden truths. She knew now which guard rotated too slowly near the wine cellar… which hallway stayed unlit after midnight… which chapel door stuck just enough to seem forgotten… and which shadowed garden path led to the one man she should have feared, hated, avoided.Instead, she was running toward him.Her pulse beat a frantic rhythm as she slipped through the cracks of the villa, moving like a whisper carried on the dark. A stolen glance to make sure the corridor was empty. A silent step over the loose tile near the servants’ stair. A held breath as she slipped through the chapel door and into the cold kiss of night.And then she saw him.Damian.Leaning against the old stone fountain as though he belonged there, framed by climbing roses and moonlight. His shirt was undone at the throa

The Rossi dining hall was too quiet.Adriana sat stiffly in her chair, her back ramrod straight, her hands resting carefully on her lap, the picture of composure. But beneath the silk of her gown, her skin prickled with sweat. The silence pressed down on her like a vice, broken only by the soft clink of cutlery against porcelain and the occasional hiss of wine poured into crystal.Her father hadn’t spoken more than three words all evening. Marco had remained equally silent, his gaze flicking from her to Luca with the cold sharpness of a hawk circling its prey. And Luca…Luca hadn’t stopped watching her.He sat across the table, his glass untouched, his jaw set tight. There was no charm in his smile tonight, no velvet in his voice. Just suspicion, and something darker that curled around the edges of his silence.Adriana forced herself to breathe evenly. To eat without faltering. To act as though the crack in her reflection, the guilt of Damian’s lips still bruising her skin, wasn’t thr

Naples pulsed with unease. Every rumor, every whisper in the streets carried the Moretti name. Merchants shuttered their shops early, guards doubled their patrols, and alliances that once stood steady began to tremble like houses built on sand.Inside the Rossi villa, the air was just as tense.Adriana moved through the halls like a figure carved from marble—graceful, untouchable, but hollow inside. Every step echoed the same truth: her world was collapsing. And yet she kept her mask in place, because masks were all that stood between her and ruin.But she wasn’t the only one playing.---The council chamber was heavy with cigar smoke and fury. Enzo Rossi sat at the head of the long table, Luca to his right, Marco to his left, and Isabella lounging gracefully in the corner like a cat at rest.“The Moretti boy grows bold,” Enzo snarled, slamming his cane against the marble floor. “Striking our shipments in broad daylight. He seeks war.”“He seeks power,” Luca corrected, his gaze sharp.

Morning broke over Naples with the faint cry of gulls and the smell of salt drifting in from the sea. But inside the Rossi villa, dawn carried no peace. It carried whispers, hurried footsteps, and the bitter tang of fear.Adriana rose from her bed to find her maid pale and trembling, her hands fumbling with the silken ties of the gown.“What is it?” Adriana asked, her voice still husky from sleep.The girl swallowed. “There was… an ambush, signorina. Last night. At the docks.”Adriana’s heart stilled. “Whose men?”“Don De Luca’s shipment,” the maid whispered, darting her eyes nervously toward the door. “They say the Morettis struck… but others say the Morettis shouldn’t have known. Someone must have told them.”A chill spread through Adriana’s chest. A betrayal.She dismissed the maid with trembling fingers and hurried to dress, each tug of fabric heavy with dread. By the time she reached the council chamber, her father’s voice was already shaking the walls.---The chamber was thick