บททั้งหมดของ A Contract With The Devil in a Suit: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

"Prove it right now in front of me, Darren! Kiss me as if you truly consider me your woman!" Clarissa yanked the collar of Darren's black shirt with a single, violent hitch, closing the distance between them until not a shred of empty air remained. Her eyes, flashing wildly, bored straight into her husband's hawk-like gaze, radiating the sadistic gratification of a ruler who had successfully cornered her prey at the edge of a cliff. Her warm, rapid breaths battered the surface of Darren's rigid lips, carrying the dense aroma of her black rose perfume—a fragrance that, to Darren tonight, felt more toxic than the venom of the world's most lethal serpent. Darren stood frozen, allowing his muscular frame to be pulled without offering a fraction of physical resistance. His sharp jawline locked to an extreme degree, the veins around his temples bulging rigidly as he suppressed the tidal wave of revulsion burning through his chest. His ego and arrogance as the number-one billionaire of the

The private jet sliced through the gray clouds over the European sky with cold elegance. Inside the silent cabin, Dante sat motionless, staring at his reflection in the window. He wore a pitch-black shirt—the color now seeming like a uniform for his ever-darkening soul. On his lap, the tablet displaying Vargas’s betrayal remained lit, showing the steady flow of funds into Dr. Keller’s account in Switzerland.Dante felt like a conductor of a symphony of destruction. Leonard had taught him that love without power was vulnerability, and power without cruelty was weakness. Now, as he headed to Switzerland to confront betrayal at its source, Dante realized he was no longer trembling prey.He was a predator returning home.“We’ll be landing in Zurich in thirty minutes, Mr. Dante,” Marco’s voice broke the silence. “The tactical team is already in position around the clinic. Dr. Keller is unaware that we’ve cut off her communication with Vargas.”Dante gave a slight nod. “Make sure my mother

The ticking of the pocket watch, now resting in Dante’s vest pocket, felt like a second, foreign heartbeat. In the silence of his room in Switzerland, the sound became a metronome for the emptiness consuming his soul. Dante stood before the wide window overlooking Lake Geneva. Morning fog still clung to the surface of the water, painting a scene that was calm yet lifeless—just like what he felt after last night’s “celebration” of Vargas’s downfall.He had won the war. Leonard’s enemies now understood that the “pet” possessed fangs far sharper than his master’s. And yet, the victory brought no satisfaction. Each time he looked at his hands, he no longer saw the fingers of a writer or the son of a factory worker—he saw the hands of a ruler who had just destroyed a man’s life without blinking.“Breakfast is ready, Mr. Dante,” Marco’s voice came from behind the door. “And Dr. Keller… she’s already in your mother’s ward. She’s working very diligently this morning.”Dante turned, his gaze h

The thin ticking of the pocket watch, now beating steadily in Dante’s vest pocket, felt like a second, unfamiliar heartbeat. In the silence of his room in Switzerland, the sound became a metronome for the emptiness that had taken hold of his soul. Dante stood before the vast window overlooking Lake Geneva. Morning mist still clung to the water’s surface, creating a view that was serene yet lifeless—exactly how he felt after the “celebration” of Vargas’s destruction the night before.He had won the war. Leonard’s enemies now understood that the “pet” possessed fangs far sharper than his master’s. And yet, victory brought no satisfaction. Every time Dante looked at his hands, he no longer saw the fingers of a writer or the son of a factory worker. He saw the hands of a ruler—one who had just destroyed a man’s life without hesitation.“Mr. Dante, breakfast is ready,” Marco’s voice came from behind the door. “And Dr. Keller… she’s already in your mother’s ward. She’s working very diligent

The silence that filled the Upper East Side townhouse that morning felt different. It was no longer the suffocating quiet of looming threats, but the stillness that follows a war—the kind left behind after a storm has passed, leaving debris waiting to be cleared.Dante stood in the center of his study, gazing at the bookshelves once curated to Leonard’s taste. With calm, deliberate movements, he began removing the books one by one, placing them into large boxes.He was no longer dressed in his usual tailored suits. Instead, he wore a simple white cotton shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. At his waist, the silver pocket watch now hung from a new chain, ticking steadily in his vest pocket. Each beat was a quiet reminder: Leonard’s time had ended, while his had only just begun.“Mr. Dante, all arrangements for your mother’s relocation are complete,” Marco said from the doorway, his voice softer than usual. “The west coast location is secure. No trace of the Virelli name. No digital foo