BLOOD TIE AND BROKEN VOWS のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Adriana’s first sensation was heat. Not fire — that had already passed — but the lingering burn in her lungs, as if every breath dragged smoke deeper into her chest. She coughed, body convulsing, the sound muffled by rubble pressing down on her ribs.Her eyes fluttered open. Darkness. Not complete, but broken by faint, shifting light filtering through cracks in the collapsed ceiling. Ash drifted like snow, settling in her hair, her lashes, her mouth.For a moment she couldn’t move. Panic clawed at her throat, threatening to choke her more than the smoke. Am I buried alive?Then she remembered — Damian.Adriana twisted, ignoring the pain lancing down her side. His weight was sprawled half over her, heavy, protective. His arm still caged her, shielding her body from debris.“Damian?” Her voice rasped, barely audible over the faint groan of settling beams. She shook him weakly, her hands trembling. “Damian, wake up—please.”Nothing.Fear surged colder than the fire ever had. She shoved a

The Moretti estate hadn’t been this alive in years.Word of Damian’s return traveled like lightning, igniting every corner of the criminal underworld. Allies arrived dressed in silk and suspicion. Rivals sent spies disguised as messengers. Servants rushed through hallways that had long grown silent, dusted by months of absence. Now, the rooms glowed again — chandeliers burning bright, crystal glasses clinking, music weaving through marble corridors like a ghost resurrected.But for Adriana, the sudden liveliness felt suffocating.Everywhere she went, eyes followed her. Some widened in confusion. Others narrowed with hostility. A Rossi in Moretti territory? A Rossi standing beside their heir? She was a contradiction they couldn’t reconcile, a threat they couldn’t name, a secret Damian had dragged from the ashes into the center of his empire.He hadn’t let her leave his side since the fire — not in the car, not in the safehouse, not even now, surrounded by dozens of watchful eyes. His p

The days that followed were worse than the fire. At least flames were honest in their destruction.Isabella was not.She moved through the Moretti estate like a shadow in silk, her laughter echoing in every corridor, her perfume clinging to Damian’s suits, his office, even the very air Adriana breathed.Adriana tried to avoid her, tried to hold her head high. But Isabella never allowed her peace. Wherever Adriana went, she was there — smiling too sweetly, her words dripping like poisoned honey.---It began over breakfast.Adriana sat at the long oak table, pushing food around her plate. Damian hadn’t come down yet; he’d been locked in meetings since dawn, trying to rebuild control over the fractured Moretti empire.Isabella entered like she owned the house, sliding into the seat opposite Adriana without asking. She poured herself coffee, her movements graceful, deliberate.“You look tired, Adriana,” she said casually, stirring sugar into her cup. “I suppose nights with Damian can be…

Damian Moretti sat alone in his father’s study, though the man who had ruled these halls was long buried. The walls still carried the scent of cigars and leather, the heavy silence of judgment. A single glass of whiskey rested on the desk before him, untouched, as though even fire couldn’t burn away the knots in his chest.The night replayed in fragments. Adriana’s trembling voice. Her accusation. The sharp sting in her eyes when she said silence was killing her.He had faced bullets without blinking, blood without hesitation. But her words cut deeper than any blade.For the first time in years, Damian felt powerless.She thinks I don’t care. That I let Isabella claim me because it means nothing.But the truth was worse. He cared too much. He knew the moment he shattered Isabella’s façade publicly, war would erupt — one his clan wasn’t yet strong enough to win. And Adriana would be the first target.His father’s voice haunted him still, cold and ruthless: Love is a weakness, son. A wo

The grand ballroom shimmered under crystal chandeliers, their light scattering across the gilded walls in a cascade of gold and silver. Music spilled from the orchestra, rich and commanding, weaving through the chatter of the city’s most dangerous and influential families. Masks glimmered on porcelain faces, hiding intentions and secrets alike.Adriana stepped into the room, her gown a flowing cascade of midnight blue silk that brushed the marble floor. Her mask covered only half her face, leaving her eyes free to scan the room. She moved carefully, every step deliberate, every breath measured. She had survived fire, betrayal, and shadows — but this night felt like another battlefield.She spotted Damian across the room. He was a vision of controlled power, the black mask emphasizing the sharpness of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. Soldiers and allies clustered around him, yet he moved like a wolf through his pack — fluid, commanding, untouchable.And then she saw her — Isabell