All Chapters of The Mafia’s heir’s bride : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Sirah stammered, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "Ch-Chloe told me that she's working for someone… and that the person paid her to poison your wife's drink"Luca's gaze sharpened. "And who is this person?"Sirah's throat bobbed. "It's… e-eerrrr… I don't know, please Master."A slow, cold smile curved on Luca's lips. "Since when did you become a liar, Sirah?"The room fell into a heavy silence. The maids standing behind exchanged uneasy glances as Luca's voice deepened. "Tonight, we will watch you both on the CCTV footage."Their eyes widened. Gasps filled the air. There was footage?Chloe's trembling lips parted. "I—I will mention the name now," she cried.But Luca raised a hand, his signal was calm, commanding, and final. "No. It's of no use. The time granted to you both to spill the truth is over."His tone dropped into a deadly whisper. "Six p.m." He turned away. "You may leave now."As the door closed behind them, Luca's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, it was

The office was wrapped in half-light, the city skyline casting broken gold through the blinds.Bianca had removed her jacket revealing her net lingerie, she proceed and removed his belt, kneel beside him and began to suck his d*ck in between his legs. He became so had and lay her back on the table in a doggy position. He stroke her from the back, while she moan out of pleasure. With was indeed juicy and wet, creating sweet sounds as the organs bang into each other. Until they both had enough. His d*ck collapse as he cum into her for the fifth time. While her Pussy was full of his cums. Just as she wanted it. Bianca wore back her cloths and adjusted her jacket, pausing long enough to let the silence thicken. Every breath inside that room carried the scent of risk, of something forbidden, of a victory she thought she had finally claimed.Luca's chair faced away from her, the dimness turning his silhouette into a mystery. She smiled, slow and deliberate, a predator savoring the quiet

​The sound of the door crashing inward wasn't just wood splitting; it was the final, violent punctuation mark to Daisy's fragile control. Instinctively, she melted back against Romeo, his arms like a sudden, solid cage around her. The vanilla-scented air turned acrid with the smell of old concrete and newly-drawn tension.​Two men stood framed in the splintered doorway, their suits expensive, their faces cold, and their intent unmistakable. They were not police; they were cleanup crew, sent by someone powerful to make a mess vanish.​"Don't move," Romeo whispered again, his body language shifting from protective lover to honed weapon. He didn't tighten his grip on her, but the muscles in his arms tensed, a silent promise of violence.​Daisy, however, was already moving. Not away, but subtly, her hand sweeping across the small table beside the sofa, her fingers closing around the cold, weighty base of a ceramic lamp. The action was swift, trained, and silent. She didn't cling to h

​The gilded cage had become Alessia's whole world. A week passed, then ten days, and Xavier's presence shifted from a resented imposition to a fundamental part of the silence. He was the anchor in a storm of uncertainty, a human lighthouse whose beam never wavered, even if it was cold.​His routine was the metronome of her isolation. She knew the exact cadence of his footsteps on the marble when he paced the perimeter of the library. She knew the faint metallic scent that clung to him not cologne, but the clean, cold smell of gun oil and discipline. Most tellingly, she knew the rhythm of his breathing when he stood guard just outside the panic room at night, Steady, Unflappable. It was the sound of her own survival.​Her initial resentment had curdled into a brittle, wary respect. She had tried to goad him, to make him talk, to make him react.​"You're a robot, Xavier," she had challenged him one afternoon, watching him from the balcony as he stood sentinel over the rose garden.

Alessia sat on the bed ​Panic, cold and absolute, seized her. She couldn't be caught with this, Not now. She whipped around, pressing the small journal flat against her back, clutching it tight, trying to make her body rigid and natural at the same time.​It wasn't a maid or one of the staff. "It was Xavier".... ​He stepped into the room, impeccably dressed as always, his face unreadable, a faint, unsettling smirk playing on his lips. He wasn't in the apartment—he had just opened the door and walked in.​"Ma'am," he said smoothly, his eyes sweeping over her, lingering for a fraction of a second on the rigid line of her shoulders.​Alessia's mind raced. Why was he here? How did he get in? The apartment had state-of-the-art security. Luca's personal security team would never have let him past the lobby and now into their matrimonial bedroom? Perhaps he was her new personal security guard, so getting access to her would always be easy. This wasn't just a sneaky entry; this was a de