บททั้งหมดของ The Mafia’s heir’s bride : บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

The forest was eerily quiet, its silence cut only by the distant rustling of leaves as the wind carried secrets through the branches. Princess Elowen's fingers trembled as she reached for the black book lying on the mossy ground. It was heavier than she remembered, its ancient cover glistening faintly under the streak of fading sunlight. Her breath hitched when she turned it over and saw the symbol etched into its back. The same insignia her father once entrusted to Donato Morano. But how? How was the book here, far from the royal archives and the castle walls? Her father had sworn it will be safe with him. Her thoughts were interrupted by voices so low, urgent, and close. Without hesitation, Elowen slid the book into the satchel slung across her shoulder, every motion sharp with fear. She darted to the nearest tree, the rough bark scraping her palms as she climbed swiftly. Perched on a thick branch, her cloak blending with the leaves, she pressed her body close to the trunk. B

The night was unnaturally quiet, the air heavy as though it carried a warning. When the old woman opened the creaking wooden door, her heart tightened at the sight before her. Two armed guards stood firm on the porch, bearing the royal insignia of Princess Elowen's father. Their presence brought with it an undeniable authority, and in the hand of the lead guard was a weathered poster... Elowen's face staring back in stark black and white."Good evening, ma'am," the taller guard said politely but firmly. "If you don't mind, we would like to ask a few questions. How many people reside in this home? Have you by any chance seen this lady?" He tilted the poster toward her.The old woman's eyes narrowed, a practiced calm masking her racing heart. "No, I haven't seen her," she replied smoothly, her voice not corresponding to her pounding heart. "And only my granddaughter is here, having her meal." She gestured toward Bianca, who sat at the dining table, feigning complete nonchalance as s

Luca stood still, his posture deceptively calm, though his heart was far from it. His eyes followed Alessia, tracing the stubborn set of her jaw, the glint of coldness that replaced the warmth he once knew. He didn't push. He didn't beg. He knew her memories were gone or worse, clouded by something sinister and forcing her to remember would only push her further away. Instead, he stayed silent, a steady anchor in the storm she was trapped in. But the pain was there, quietly gnawing at him, the woman he loved now looked at him as though he were the enemy.It was Lauretta Morano, his mother, who finally broke the tension. Her voice, calm yet edged with urgency, carried the weight of old secrets."We cannot wait any longer," Lauretta said, her gaze moving between her son and the woman who once called him hers. "Something has been done to her, Luca. This… this is not natural.""She saw you in your anger state which isn't supposed to be so, because she's the moo.... " Mrs lauretta mo

Bianca's hands trembled as she clutched the worn strap of her bag. Her heart pounded in uneven beats, fear twisting like a knife inside her. The bag wasn't torn. Not a thread undone. Yet the book, the black book that seemed to breathe with a life of its own was gone.Her lips parted in disbelief."Did it fall out? Or… did it leave me?"For a fleeting second, she imagined turning back, scouring every inch of the shadowed road she had walked. But then her son's face surfaced in her mind, soft and fragile, an image that had carried her through nights of despair. No, she couldn't delay,,,, Not now,,, not when she needed him.Her eyes closed... She resolve pushing against the weight of fear."I'll get him first," she whispered to herself, gripping the map like a lifeline.She stepped into the roadside gloom, waving down a taxi. The vehicle rattled to a halt, and she climbed in, clutching her bag to her chest as if the missing weight inside it might somehow return.The ride stretched

Bianca's heart drummed like a fist against her ribs as she stood before the Well- designed black gates of the house on Garam Street. The address felt like fate whispered it into her ear. She had followed Jackson's bus for nearly an hour, her palms sweating against the leather seat of the taxi, her eyes glued to the boy's profile against the windowpane. "Those eyes.... Blue like a storm rolling over the sea".... Now, she was here.Her lips trembled as she rehearsed her opening words in the shadows of the gate, whispering to herself like a woman gone mad."Hi… I'm Bianca Williams. Twelve years ago, my son was pulled into river basket, I think you picked him up…""No, no, that sounds desperate…" She shook her head and started again."Bianca Williams here, I came far because of coincidence, because of fate… the blue-eyed boy is my son…"She stopped mid-sentence, her voice cracking. What am I saying?Just then, the creak of the gate startled her. A slim young woman stepped out, auburn