All Chapters of The Don's Dirty Obsession : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The cage was metal, small, and cramped. Cedric could barely stand up straight inside it. The bars were cold against his back as he sat on the concrete floor, knees drawn to his chest. He could hear Gianni shouting in the distance, voice raw and furious, echoing through the compound. Somewhere else, Lily was crying, soft, broken sounds that tore at Cedric’s heart like claws. He pressed his forehead against the bars and closed his eyes, trying to block it out. Hours passed. Days? He couldn’t tell anymore. The lights never turned off. The air smelled like rust and fear and his own sweat.On the third day, the door to the room opened. Enzo walked in, smug and well-rested, dressed in a clean suit like he was going to a meeting instead of torturing people in a basement. He stopped in front of Cedric’s cage, smiling down at him.“Comfortable?” Enzo asked.Cedric said nothing. He just stared at the man with dead eyes.Enzo shrugged. “Fine. I’ll talk to Lily instead.” He turned to leave.Cedri

The safe house was a weathered farm in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, far from the chaos of New York and the glittering lies of Monaco. Fields of corn stretched out under a gray sky, broken only by a barn that looked like it had seen better decades and a main house with peeling white paint. Delia met them at the door, a retired FBI agent with steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun and eyes that missed nothing. She was in her late fifties, built like someone who had spent decades chasing monsters and winning most of the time.She didn’t ask questions. She just ushered them inside, fed them hot soup and fresh bread, bandaged Marcus’s leg with efficient hands, and gave Lily a small upstairs room with a real bed and a worn stuffed bear on the pillow. The puppy, or what was left of the memory of the puppy, seemed to settle the moment Lily curled up with the bear.“You’re safe here,” Delia said, pouring coffee for the adults at the scarred kitchen table. “For as long as you need.”Cedr

The warehouse was neutral ground, Rachel had said. Cold concrete floors, dim overhead lights, the faint smell of oil and rust hanging in the air like a warning. Linda sat at a metal table in the center, flanked by two of Rachel’s guards. She looked older than Cedric remembered, lines etched deeper around her eyes, shoulders slumped under the weight of years of secrets. When she saw Lily step through the door behind Cedric, her face crumpled.“My baby,” Linda whispered, voice breaking.Lily didn’t move. She stayed behind Cedric, her small body rigid, eyes blank. “Don’t,” she said, voice low and steady. “You don’t get to call me that.”Linda’s face crumpled further, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I know. I know I don’t deserve…”“You let Ray touch me,” Lily cut in, her voice small but sharp as a blade. “You knew. You heard me cry at night. And you did nothing.”Linda shook her head, hands trembling on the table. “I didn’t… I didn’t know how bad it was…”“You knew,” Cedric said, steppi

The compound was in the Caribbean, a private island bought under a dozen shell companies and guarded like a fortress. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, but the beauty felt wrong, too perfect, too clean for the rot that lived at its center. Marcus led the way, his face a mask of cold fury, crutches sinking into the sand with every step. Gianni’s men surrounded the perimeter, silent shadows ready to strike. Cedric and Lily waited on the boat just offshore, watching through binoculars, hearts in their throats.“You don’t have to do this,” Cedric had told Marcus before he left the boat.“Yes, I do,” Marcus had replied, eyes hard. “He’s my father. My ghost. My sin.”Now Marcus walked through the gates of the compound, unarmed, hands raised. Guards stopped him, patted him down, and led him inside. The man waiting in the study was older, softer around the middle, but his eyes were the same, sharp, calculating, cold.“Marcus,” the man said, standing from behind a massive desk. “I knew you’d co

The courtroom was packed to capacity, every seat filled with a tense, restless energy that made the air feel thick and heavy. Reporters crammed into the back rows, notebooks ready and cameras flashing discreetly despite the rules. Families of victims sat in clusters, clutching tissues and each other’s hands, their faces etched with years of grief and hope. Curious onlookers filled whatever space remained, drawn by the spectacle of a fallen empire finally facing judgment. The wooden benches creaked under the weight of so many bodies, and the faint hum of whispers created a constant undercurrent of anticipation.Cedric sat in the witness box, hands folded tightly in his lap to hide the trembling. He had been testifying for three long, exhausting days, three days of reliving every trauma in front of strangers. The questions had torn open old wounds: the debts, the cold alleys, the nights he sold his body just to survive, the fear in Lily’s eyes after their father’s murder. Today was the