The Mafia King’s Fake Widow のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

The locket against her skin pulsed faintly, warm—alive.“Say no.” Kael’s voice came immediately. Low. Controlled. Too controlled.Evie didn’t answer. Her fingers traced the edge of the invitation instead, slower this time, as if she could feel something underneath the paper—something unspoken. Or maybe she was just buying time.“It’s a setup,” he continued. “Victoria doesn’t invite people to dinner unless she plans to gain something from it.”A faint smile curved her lips. “Like you?”“That’s different.”Evie let out a quiet breath. “Is it?”She stepped toward the mirror, her reflection catching her eye. Composed. Calm. Untouched. Like nothing had happened.Like that night hadn’t existed.“Don’t go,” Kael said again.Evie tilted her head slightly, still looking at her reflection. “You’re very good at giving orders.”“I’m not ordering you.”“No,” she murmured. “You’re just… deciding what’s best for me.”“That’s not what this is.”Her gaze finally shifted. “Then what is it?”Silence. An

Evie stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing her skin, but it did nothing to calm the fire already burning in her chest. Her phone trembled slightly in her hand. Bank app. Fifty million. Gone. Gone. Her breath hitched. She pressed her palm to the locket. Warm. Alive. Insistent. Its pulse echoed her own panic. “Kael…” Her voice trembled. “Someone… took everything.” “Relax,” his voice came immediately through the locket. “I’ll replace it. Every cent.” She laughed, bitter and sharp. “Replace it? Do you even understand? Fifty million—my life, my plans—gone! And you just say… replace it?” “I said I’ll handle it,” Kael replied, calm but with a hint of tension. “No one can touch what’s mine… or yours.” “Don’t tell me what’s mine!” she snapped. “Don’t tell me what matters!” Her fingers clenched on the locket. “You weren’t here when it happened. You weren’t here when Damien—” Her voice caught. She swallowed. “When he touched me! Kael, I don’t like that. I don’t wa

Evie sat rigid in the backseat, the taste of Kael’s savage kiss still burning on her lips, her silk dress torn at the shoulder from their earlier struggle. She hadn’t spoken a word since sliding into the car. Neither had he. The silence between them was thicker than the blood still drying on her skin from his earlier wound. She reached for the door handle the moment the car stopped in the underground garage. “I can walk myself—” The first shot cracked before she could finish. Glass exploded inches from her face. The rear window shattered in a glittering storm, shards raining across the leather seats. Evie screamed, but the sound was swallowed by Kael’s body slamming into hers. He drove her down hard, shielding her completely with his frame as a second silenced bullet ricocheted off the armored panel with a metallic whine. The third shot found its mark—tearing straight through his left shoulder with a wet, sickening thud. She felt it. The violent jerk of his muscles, th

Evie stood for a split second, smoothing Kael’s shirt over her leggings, her heart performing a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She looked at her hands, they were clean, but she could still feel the phantom heat of his fevered skin. Click. She turned the heavy brass lock just as the locksmith’s tool touched the external cylinder. The door swung open to reveal Victoria Voss, draped in charcoal silk, her face a mask of aristocratic fury. Behind her stood two security guards and a confused-looking man holding a leather tool kit. "Evelyn," Victoria hissed. "Explain this theatrical isolation immediately." Evie didn't flinch. She leaned against the doorframe. "It’s called a migraine, Victoria. Or perhaps just the natural exhaustion of living in this house." Victoria stepped into the room, pushing past her with a scent of Chanel No. 5 and cold ambition. She began to pace the suite. “You’ve been 'indisposed' for twenty-four hours," Victoria noted. "This house feels... unbalanced."

Victoria stood motionless, her silver robe shimmering like a blade. She wasn't just waiting for a sample; she was waiting for Evie to break. “Don't touch it,” Kael’s voice finally crackled in her earpiece, so low it was almost a growl. “Do not pick up that kit, Evelyn.” Evie’s hand, which had been hovering inches above the bed, froze. She looked up at Victoria, forcing her expression to shift from paralyzed terror to a mask of cold, regal indignation. "You want my DNA, Victoria?" Evie’s voice was a whisper, but it carried a razor-thin edge. "Or do you want to ensure that Kael’s child never breathes a word of his inheritance?" Victoria’s eyes narrowed. "I want the truth. Something you’ve been allergic to since the moment you stepped into this house." "The truth is that you are terrified," Evie said, slowly sliding her legs off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold rug. She stood up, pulling her silk robe tight around her waist. "You are terrified that a woman you consider 'nothin