Semua Bab Taken by my stepfathers: Bab 101 - Bab 110

Eden’s POVThe wind on the jagged northern tip of the island was a physical weight, pushing against my chest and whipping the heavy silk of my robe around my bare legs. Luca walked a few paces ahead of me, his boots crunching on the white gravel path that hugged the sheer, terrifying drop of the cliffs. Below us, the Atlantic was a churning cauldron of turquoise and white foam, smashing against the rocks with a roar that vibrated through the soles of my feet.I didn’t feel the vertigo I should have. I didn’t feel the urge to step back from the ledge. Instead, the heights felt exactly the same way the men did—massive, dangerous, and something I wanted to throw myself into completely. I watched the way Luca’s linen shirt clung to the muscles of his back, his shoulders broad and steady against the gale. He moved with the ease of someone who owned the air he breathed."Stop here," Luca said, turning around abruptly.We were at the very edge, the precipice only inches from his heels. He st

Eden’s POVThe study was so silent I could hear the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, marking the seconds like a heartbeat against the mahogany walls. Six pairs of eyes were fixed on me, heavy with expectation and a dark curiosity. I didn't look up. I didn't need to. I could feel the heat of Luca still standing by the door, his gaze burning into the back of my neck, and the weight of Daddy’s stare from across the desk.I flipped the first ten pages within seconds. Most analysts would have started with the grand totals, looking for the missing millions in the wire transfers. They were amateurs. I started with the fuel surcharges and the maritime insurance premiums—the small, "boring" numbers where the real ghosts hide. My fingers moved over the paper, tracing the flow of capital through the Mediterranean shipping routes. My mind, sharpened by years of high-level financial theory, began to dismantle the complex layers of the Schmidt family's illicit wealth.My pen fl

Lilian's POV The air in Klaus’s penthouse was a stagnant, suffocating soup of sandalwood, expensive gin, and the sharp tang of sweat. It was the kind of atmosphere that clung to your clothes and seeped into your pores, a permanent reminder of the depravity that lived within these obsidian walls. I didn’t knock; in Klaus’s world, an unlocked door wasn't a welcome – it was a trap, a silent dare to see if you had the stomach for what lay on the other side. I stepped inside, the sharp click of my heels muffled by the thick, dark rugs that led toward the sleeping quarters, the hum of Manhattan’s midnight traffic a distant, buzzing ghost against the glass.I found him exactly where I expected, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the jagged, neon-lit skyline of the city. Klaus was a shadow of a man, lean and corded with a restless, violent muscle, his skin almost entirely obscured by intricate, dark tattoos that seemed to writhe like living snakes in the dim lig

Lilian’s POVThe Gulfstream G650ER cut through the Atlantic clouds like a silver blade, the interior a sanctuary of cream leather, burled walnut, and the low, expensive hum of twin engines. Outside the thick oval windows, there was nothing but an endless, bruising blue—the vast, indifferent territory of the Schmidt family. Klaus sat opposite me, a glass of neat gin in his hand, his eyes fixed on the digital flight tracker embedded in the bulkhead."Thirty-four fifty-seven North. Twenty-eight fourteen West," Klaus muttered, his voice a low, rhythmic chant. He looked energised, his dark tattoos peeking out from the collar of his black shirt. "The heart of the fortress."I gripped the armrests, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The flash drive was tucked into my bra, the data I’d skimmed from his monitors burning against my skin. I had betrayed him to get here, but I didn't care. If those coordinates were right, I was minutes away from seeing Eden. I was minutes away f

Eden’s POVThe storm that had been brewing over the Atlantic finally broke, lashing against the floor-to-ceiling glass of the master suite with a violence that matched the energy inside. The island felt smaller tonight, more intimate, as the rain turned the world outside into a blurred, grey void. I stood in the centre of the room, my skin humming with the residual heat of the day’s work. I had spent twelve hours in the study with Daddy and Silas, untangling the web of the undercover investigation, and the mental exertion had left me with a jagged, restless hunger that only one thing could dull.I wasn't alone.Daniel and Silas stood on opposite sides of the bed, a pair of dark pillars in the dim light of the fire pit. They had shed the professional armour of their suits. Daniel looked raw, his broad chest rising and falling slow and heavy, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the corded power of his forearms. Silas, usually the most composed of the brothers, had a predatory stillness abou