The Mafia King and His Bride のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

* Miranda *The house seemed too quiet when Lorenzo left. It's already time for bed yet I didn't want to sleep. I haven't even had the appetite to have dinner; I force myself to join Salvatore in the dining room. After that, I had excuse myself and stayed in my room.The corridor outside my bedroom held the faint trace of Lorenzo's scent, it almost felt like he never truly left this place. I stood near the window where Lorenzo had abandoned the evening light, my hands clasped so tightly they trembled after he left.The Brussels. Investigation of the incident. Pressure is closing in like a vice on Salvatore and Lorenzo.And he was walking willingly into it now.He would never say to me if he was in danger. He would call it structure, strategy, or stability. But I had seen the investigator's eyes on that picture, men like him who believed in something did not negotiate with mercy. They endured the call of danger. They pursued the bad man. They will not stop until they get justice.My ch

* Lorenzo *I thought I had a moment of peace when my father decided not to sleep in the mansion. He would probably stay in his penthouse in the city. Yet my phone dings early in the morning. The message came around six am.There was no greeting or explanation. Just a location and a command for me."Come to the hotel now, I'm waiting."I read it twice while the sky outside Miranda's window bled from black into a thin, reluctant gray. Her room was quiet and without anybody's knowledge, I have been sleeping here often. My mind recalled the details of what we had spoken of last night.Then my father occupied my head. I already knew where he wanted news from the investigator so I had to see him.I stood from the edge of her bed slowly, without waking her. For a moment I watched her breathe, steady now, though tension still lived in the line of her brow. She had stood against my father alone. That fact settled inside me like iron.I went to my bedroom just wash my face and change my clothe

* Miranda *The house did not announce his return. But I noticed that one of the servants went to serve drinks in the master's bedroom. Then I heard the commotion of suitcases and the voice asking what other things to pack.Is Salvatore leaving? My heart beats rapidly inside my chest. It would be better if he went on a vacation somewhere far from me. I had hoped to be far away from him.The wheels traced a slow, deliberate line across the marble floor outside my room—a number of them in big sizes. I stood where Lorenzo had left me, near the window, hands folded too neatly, with my spine too straight. Waiting had become a discipline for me.Then my door opened without a knock. Salvatore De Luca did not enter fully. He occupied space the way storms occupy horizons, inevitable, and self-justified. His coat hung over one arm, already dressed for leaving. He smelled of smoke and something sharp beneath it, a scent that clung like memory. I was surprised to see him."So," he said, surveying

* Miranda *Dinner was quieter than I expected, yet fuller than any feast the mansion had offered on top of the table. Without Salvatore's presence, the long table seemed to shrink. Now I can look at Lorenzo anytime I want.He insisted we sit near the window instead of at opposite ends. It was less formal. Candlelight moved gently across the glassware, and for once the servants withdrew without hovering. Even Martha left after the first course, her knowing glance softened into approval.We spoke of ordinary things at first. He asked about the garden I used to walk through at my mother's home. He listened, not politely, not out of duty, but with an attention that made memory feel present again. The smile on his face was genuine.In return, he spoke of business matters without naming their danger. Words like 'negotiations,' 'accounts,' and 'shipments' each carried a weight he did not force me to bear. He allowed me only the outline of his burdens, not their sharp edges.At some point,

* Miranda *The mansion was too quiet after Salvatore left and Lorenzo was busy performing tasks for the De Luca business.Days passed in the rhythm of doors opening for men who did not look at me and closing behind footsteps that did not linger. His schedule stretched longer than the corridors. Mornings came without him. Evenings returned only his coat, the faint scent of wind and earth clinging to the fabric as if he had left a shadow behind to apologize in his place.I did not resent it. I understood his duty the way quiet women understand storms, by listening for what they cannot stop.But understanding does not cure my loneliness deep inside.So I read books. I walked the gardens. I watched light move across the marble floor like a slow tide. I spoke little, even to Martha, because words felt like small coins spent too easily. And somewhere within those long, careful days, something fragile grew restless inside me.Not longing exactly. But I want to have a companion beside me.He