บททั้งหมดของ The Ricci Heir: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 98

CiaraDinner felt different tonight. Not quiet the O’Connells and Riccis didn’t do quiet, but heavier. Focused. Every conversation had an edge to it, like everyone was waiting for the next shoe to drop. Matteo sat beside me, his knee brushing mine under the table, his hand resting on my thigh as if he needed the contact as much as I did. Across from us sat my father, clear-eyed and steady, with all five of my brothers. On Matteo’s side, Wolf, Salvatore, Luca, Kat, Mama Red, and GreenLee filled the rest of the long table.Family. All of us. Even in the middle of a storm. Wolf cleared his throat, pulling everyone’s attention. “Lockdown stays in place until Shamrock checks in. No exceptions.”A few of the guys groaned, but no one argued. Lockdown meant safety. Lockdown meant control. Lockdown meant we weren’t giving Hector or that unknown MC a single opening.Matteo squeezed my hand once before speaking. “We’ve got a new plan. And this time, we’re doing it smart.”All eyes shifted to him

Ciara finally fell asleep. It took longer than usual, her body fighting it, her mind spinning, but she’s been off for days now. Tired. Snappy. Sad one minute, furious the next. All of it wrapped together so tight she didn’t even realize how wound up she was. I did. And I knew the only way she’d rest tonight was if I made her. So I did.And hearing her scream my name into my shoulder while she finally let go of all that tension… yeah, I didn’t mind that part at all.Now she’s curled against my pillow, breathing soft and even, hair a mess across her cheek. I brushed it back before I left, kissed her forehead, and whispered that I’d be right outside. She didn’t stir. Good. She needs the sleep. I slipped out of the room quietly and headed across the yard toward the shed. The night air was cool, the kind that wakes you up fast. The lights were low around the clubhouse. Wolf kept the lockdown tight, even after the mission was done. Smart. Until Hector and Isolde were secured and questioned,

By the time I finished showering and got dressed, Ciara was already gone. She’d said she needed to talk to Kat, and I didn’t think much of it at first. She’d been emotional, overwhelmed, and honestly, after the water‑throwing incident, I figured she just needed a minute to breathe. Still… something felt off. I headed to the kitchen, expecting to find her there. Mama was at the stove, humming as she flipped pancakes. Mama Red was chopping fruit with the kind of focus that made even Wolf behave.“Morning, sweetheart,” Mama said. “Ciara with you?”“No,” I said, grabbing a mug. “She went to find Kat.”Papa and Salvatore walked in a moment later, both looking too awake for this early. They sat beside me at the table.Papa studied me for all of three seconds. “What’s wrong?”I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “Ciara’s been… off. Mood swings. Crying. Snapping. Exhausted. I don’t know what’s going on with her.”Papa gave me a slow, knowing look, the kind that said he already had a theory. Before I

The shed felt heavier after Ciara walked out. Not because of the bodies. Not because of the ropes. Because of one word. Pregnant. It kept echoing in my head, over and over, like a heartbeat I could suddenly hear.My woman. My child. My family.And the man tied to the chair in front of me had tried to rip all of that away.Hector shifted, coming fully to. Isolde was already awake, eyes wild, wrists bound, watching every move like a trapped animal.The door shut behind the others, Ciara, Sean, Kat, Declan, and the space shrank around us.Mama stepped forward, calm as ever, wiping her hands on a towel like she’d just finished baking instead of watching a man’s life unravel.“Matteo, sweetheart,” she said, voice soft but edged with steel, “handle Hector first. I’ll get my art kit.”Hector’s eyes snapped to her. He didn’t recognize her face. But he recognized the word. Art. His pupils blew wide, fear cutting through the fog.“The Artist,” he whispered, almost to himself.He’d heard the sto