All Chapters of BLOOD TIE AND BROKEN VOWS : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The night pressed against the Moretti estate like a velvet curtain, heavy with secrets. The chandeliers in the grand hall glimmered, throwing fractured light across marble floors that had seen too much blood. To anyone on the outside, the gala was a display of wealth and power. To those inside, it was a battlefield wrapped in silk and champagne.Adriana stood near the edge of the room, her gown a sleek shadow of midnight, shoulders straight, chin raised. She had been trained for this posture—grace under scrutiny, poise under fire—but her heart betrayed her with its uneven rhythm. Every time her eyes betrayed her and drifted toward Damian, the world tilted.He was across the room, a wolf among wolves. The cut of his black suit made him seem even taller, broader, more dangerous than he already was. He commanded attention without asking for it, and people—men and women alike—leaned toward him instinctively, as though pulled by invisible gravity.And beside him, Isabella gleamed. The silk

The Rossi daughter had never felt so caged.The Moretti estate was a palace of shadows, its marble corridors echoing with silent watchers, its gilded rooms smelling faintly of gunpowder beneath the perfume of roses. Yet for all its vastness, Adriana felt trapped in it, as if the walls themselves were closing in.Sleep had not come easily after her exchange with Damian. His answers—carefully chosen, carefully withheld—echoed in her mind like a riddle. Handling business. What did that mean? Who had been with him that night?And why, when Isabella whispered her poison, had it felt so plausible?Adriana sat by the window in the quiet hours before dawn, the city lights scattered beneath her like fallen stars. Her reflection in the glass looked pale, drawn, a stranger in her own skin. She traced the edge of the window frame with her fingertip, her mind circling endlessly.She had fought so hard not to care, to guard her heart, but Damian had broken through her defenses with his fire, his lo

The storm had been building for days.It began in whispers—shadows of doubt planted in Adriana’s heart, splinters of lies lodged in Damian’s mind. But now, as night draped the Moretti estate in heavy silence, the storm broke open with the sharpness of glass shattering on marble floors.Adriana stood in Damian’s office, her chest heaving, her golden hair damp from the rain outside. Her eyes, usually pools of warmth, burned like molten amber. She looked every bit the lion her father had raised—cornered, wounded, but unwilling to bow.On the desk between them lay the silver flask, open, the forged note beside it like a venomous snake. Damian had been waiting, jaw clenched, his gaze cold and unreadable.“You left this in my room,” Adriana’s voice cut the silence, trembling but sharp. “Care to explain?”---Damian’s jaw tightened. “That’s my flask. Yes. But that note—” he held up the crushed paper— “I didn’t write this. You should know that.”Her laugh was brittle. “Should I? How many time

The night was heavy with smoke and rain when Damian finally came.Adriana heard his footsteps before she saw him, the unmistakable stride that made her chest clench with longing and dread. She rose from her chair, her fingers gripping the edge of the table for strength. Days of silence had hollowed her, but now that he was here—real, flesh, storm—her heart betrayed her, racing like it had when she first saw him across the ballroom floor.The door opened.Damian filled the frame, his presence dominating the room. His eyes were darker than she remembered, rimmed with exhaustion and fury. His jaw was clenched so hard she feared it might shatter.For a moment, they only stared.Then, in a voice rough as gravel, he spoke.“Why didn’t you come to me?”Adriana’s lips parted. The question cut deeper than a blade. “Damian—I couldn’t. My father locked me in this house. You think I chose this?”“You could have sent word. Anything.” He took a step forward, and though she longed to reach for him,

The ballroom glittered with chandeliers, their crystals dripping light like icicles. Gold, wine-red, and black—the colors of power—draped the walls. Every seat was filled, every eye watching. It was a gathering of the clans, a council masked as a celebration.At the center of it all, Isabella shone.Her gown was spun from midnight velvet, cut to reveal just enough skin to tantalize but tailored to remind everyone she was no mere ornament. A serpent of diamonds coiled around her throat, its jeweled head resting just above her pulse. She had chosen it deliberately: the crowned snake.When she moved, conversations stilled. Men turned their heads. Women studied her with envy or suspicion.But it was when Damian entered the hall that Isabella’s smile truly sharpened.He was late, as always, dressed in black, his aura suffocating the air around him. His gaze swept over the crowd, cold and unreadable—until Isabella stepped forward.She slipped her arm through his as though it had always belo