The Mafia King’s Fake Widow のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

Thorne drove in a silence that was both protective and ominous. His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror every few seconds, tracking the headlights of Victoria’s car trailing them like a predator that had lost its kill but refused to lose the scent. "You performed admirably today, Evelyn," Thorne said. "But a win like that makes them desperate. And in this family, desperation is usually the prelude to a funeral." Evie didn’t answer. Her fingers were interlaced so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned the color of bone. As soon as they reached the house, Evie retreated to her attic suite. She locked the heavy mahogany door, leaning her back against the wood and closing her eyes. She felt like a mouse that had barely escaped the snap of a trap, only to realize it was still trapped in a room full of cats. Bzz-bzz. The vibration against her ear canal made her jump. "Evelyn. Do not turn on the lights." Kael’s voice was a jagged whisper, urgent and sharp. Evie froze in

The air in the wine cellar felt like the interior of a tomb. Damien stood in the center of the vaulted chamber. "Damien, drop the weapon!" Victoria’s voice thundered, echoing off the stone arches like a whip crack. The searing white light faded into dancing spots behind Evie’s eyelids. She coughed, the acrid smell of magnesium filling her lungs. When her vision cleared, the space next to her was vacant. Kael was gone, as if he had been nothing more than a trick of the light, a phantom dissolved by the wind. "Mother! He’s here! Kael is right here!" Damien screamed. He swung his gun wildly toward the shadows behind a thick stone pillar. "He lured me down here! He’s using Evie to set me up!" Victoria stepped forward. She followed the line of Damien’s trembling barrel. There was nothing there. Only a stack of rotting wooden crates and a few undisturbed cobwebs. "There is no one there, Damien," Victoria said. "He was standing right there! He spoke to me! He was wearing black!" Damien

The dining room of the Voss Mansion felt like a cathedral dedicated to the gods of old money and cold blood. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the frescoed ceiling, its light shivering against the polished mahogany table that stretched like a dark river between the family members.Victoria sat at the head, a queen in charcoal silk, her eyes tracking every movement Evie made. Damien sat opposite Evie, his face a bruised mask of suppressed rage, his hands trembling slightly as he cut into his rare steak. The silence was punctuated only by the rhythmic clink of silver against fine bone china."You look pale, Evelyn," Victoria remarked, her voice smooth as aged cognac. "The pregnancy must be taking a toll. It’s a heavy burden to carry the future of this empire alone.""I’m managing, Victoria," Evie replied.Victoria smiled—a sharp, thin movement of her lips. She reached for a crystal decanter and poured a deep, ruby-colored wine into Evie’s glass. "This is a vintage Kael favored. A

Evie sat on the edge of the bed, the heavy cardstock of Kael’s note still clutched in her hand. The black handgun beside it glinted in the sunlight, a cold, unyielding promise of the life she was about to embrace.Luke, as Kael had once called him in a rare moment of transparency, stood by the door."Master Kael is in the command center," Luke said, his voice echoing in the vast room. "He expects you on the shooting deck in thirty minutes. Put on the clothes provided. Your life as a victim ended the moment that yacht went dark."Evie looked at the clothes. It wasn't the silk and lace of the Voss lifestyle. It was a tactical bodysuit, black and flexible, designed for movement and concealment. Beside it were combat boots and a holster."He wants me to be a soldier?" Evie asked."He wants you to be a survivor," Luke corrected. "In the Voss family, those are the only two options: the predator or the meal. You’ve been the meal for long enough."***Thirty minutes later, Evie stepped onto t

The air inside Kael’s private office was stagnant, preserved in a state of suspended animation since the night of the explosion. The heavy steel doors had groaned as they slid open, a sound that felt like the mansion itself was protesting the intrusion. Evie stepped inside, her midnight-blue silk suit a sharp contrast to the mahogany and dark leather of the room. This was the sanctum. The heart of the Voss empire. Behind her, the doors hissed shut, sealing her in a silence so profound it made her ears ring. “I am in," she whispered, tapping the discreet transmitter tucked behind her ear. “Proceed with caution, Evelyn," Kael’s voice crackled, sounding distant yet intensely focused. “The room is a minefield of analog and digital traps. Do not touch the desk. Go to the bookshelf behind the fireplace. The third volume of 'The Divine Comedy'. Pull it." Evie followed his instructions, her movements precise and tactical. Gone was the girl who had trembled in the wine cellar. Her ha