All Chapters of His Arranged Protection: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Lena’s POV The morning sun hit the tall arched windows of the third-floor study, spilling warm golden light across the dark mahogany desk where my father used to sit. For the past forty-eight hours, the estate had been a whirlwind of activity. Downstairs, Marco’s crew was moving at a staggering pace, the heavy thud of timber, the steady hum of power saws, and the clear, ringing sound of hammers echoing through the east wing as they gutted Costa’s former executive suites to construct the open-plan offices for the Clara Thorne Foundation. But up here, in the quiet sanctuary of the upper floor, time moved at a completely different speed. I sat in my father's old leather armchair, a stack of newly unsealed trust documents spread out across the blotter. Beside them lay a small, battered metal strongbox that federal marshals had recovered from a hidden floor safe beneath the master library during the final asset audit.

Lena's POV The small blue screen of the device went dark, but the words felt burned into the back of my eyelids. Behind the double metal wall. The physical key I had carried across three states, the one I thought had only unlocked a cheap metal box with a cassette tape and a handful of fading photographs, was meant for something entirely different. It was the physical mechanism to unlock a hidden compartment. My mother hadn't just left me a warning on a tape; she had left the most dangerous piece of leverage in the history of the Santoro family sitting in a dark, rusted storage facility at Willow Creek, waiting for me to figure it out. And now Adriano Costa knew. "Lena." Niccolò's voice broke through the rushing sound in my ears. I jumped slightly, shoving the communication device deep into my coat lining before looking up. He was watching me, his eyes narrowed as the SUV bounced violently over a thick tree root on the unp

LENAFriday morning arrived with a pale, cloudy sky. I stood in front of the full-length mirror for the third time in twenty minutes, holding another blouse against my chest.The navy felt too serious, the cream too soft, and the black made me look like I was headed to a funeral. I dropped the black one onto the growing pile on the bed and exhaled through my mouth.The press conference was in less than an hour. Outside the manor gates, vans had already begun to line the long driveway. I could hear the low murmur of voices even through the thick glass. People who had once pretended my family did not exist, now waiting to see if the Thorne name still had any weight left to it.I had survived worse than cameras. I had survived locked rooms, blood on marble floors, a gun in my hand that still sometimes woke me in the middle of the night. Somehow this felt much harder. One wrong sentence and the entire morning would become another story about the Rossis, about debt and violence and the me

LENAThe file sat on the desk in front of me, impossible to ignore. Clara Thorne.My mother’s name written in faded ink across the tab. My fingers hovered over the edge of the folder, the paper slightly worn at the corners. One movement and I would know whatever had been kept from me. Whatever had been worth hiding all this time.Months I'd stopped asking questions about her. Told myself the not-knowing was a wound that had scarred over. It hadn't. I was about to open it when I heard footsteps in the hallway. Niccolò.I shoved the file into the top drawer, closed it quietly, and stacked a random set of foundation papers on top of the desk just as the door opened.He leaned against the frame, watching me for a second longer than necessary.“There are a few businessmen interested in investing in the foundation,” he said. “They’re in the city today. You can have lunch with them if you want. It’s nothing formal.”I kept my hands flat on the desk so they wouldn’t shake.“You don’t have t

LENAI folded the note the second Mia’s eyes dropped to it. The paper disappeared into my pocket before she could read a single word. My face stayed blank.“Thank you,” I said. “It’s nothing important.”Mia hesitated, then nodded and left. The door clicked shut behind her. I stood still for a long moment, the sharp edges of the note pressing against my thigh through the fabric. My pulse was too loud in my ears.On the drive home I stared out the window without seeing the streets.Who had left it? Someone with access to my office. Someone who knew I had been looking. And someone who wanted me to stop.Someone close enough to walk into my building unnoticed. That thought alone made the list of who I could trust feel a lot shorter than it had that morning.The logical part of me said I should tell Niccolò the moment I walked through the door. He would take the threat seriously. He would tear the foundation apart looking for answers. He would protect me the only way he knew how.But the o