The Mafia's Forbidden Heiress 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 11 - 챕터 20

Aria POV When Luciano sent for me, I already knew sleep would not come that night.The hallway felt endless as I walked toward his room. I stopped in front of his door, took a deep breath, and knocked softly.The door opened almost immediately.Luciano stood there, his face unreadable. His dark eyes seemed even darker in the low light. He didn’t greet me. He just simply stepped aside.“Come in,” he ordered.I stepped inside. The door shut behind me with a heavy click that sounded final.“How far have you gone?” he asked, voice low.“I have not found anything new yet,” I answered carefully. “I am still reviewing the registry access logs and cross-referencing timestamps.”His jaw tightened. “Nothing? After all these hours?”“I need more time.”The words had barely left my mouth before he closed the distance between us in two strides. His hand shot up and wrapped around my throat — not enough to choke me, but firm enough to remind me who was in control.“Are you playing with me, little

Luciano's POV The doors had barely stopped swinging when Ricardo pulled out a chair and sat across from me like he owned the room.“You should have informed me,” he said calmly, placing his cigar in the ashtray. “Family matters should not be handled in silence.”“This is not a family dinner,” I replied coldly. “This is war preparation.”Ricardo leaned back, eyes locked on mine. The younger man beside him stayed standing, arms folded, watching everything like a hawk.Maps covered the long table — port routes, market districts, warehouse locations. Red ink circled key points.Dagger spoke first. “Santiago hit the market in broad daylight. He wants attention.”“He wants dominance,” Carmen added sharply. “Public humiliation builds fear faster than bullets.”One of the captains slammed his fist lightly on the table. “Then we cut his fear tonight. We take his southern docks.”Ricardo tapped ash from his cigar. “Too obvious. He expects retaliation. You walk into a trap.”“So what do you sug

Aria’s POVWhen I asked Madam Rosa where Don Luciano had gone that night, she hesitated before answering me. That alone told me the departure had not been ordinary.“He received a letter in the meeting,” she said quietly while folding fresh linen in the hallway. “It seemed urgent. He left almost immediately.”A letter. My heart tightened.Ever since the black book disappeared from the shelf, something inside me had refused to rest. The missing ledger. The secret warning printed on its cover. The way it vanished within minutes of me touching it. None of it felt accidental. Someone was plotting something.And now? An urgent letter that pulled Luciano out alone in the middle of a brewing war. The pieces did not sit right.So I made a decision I knew could cost me everything.I went to his room.The hallway outside his bedroom felt colder than usual. I stood there for a moment, listening if there were any; footsteps, and voices. There were no footsteps, no voices. I pushed the door open

Aria’s POVBy the time I was led back to his room, my legs still felt unfamiliar beneath me, as though the darkness downstairs had drained something permanent from my bones.The guard pushed the door open.Luciano was seated on the edge of his bed.His hair, usually arranged and combed back, had fallen forward in loose strands, shadowing his eyes. The white bandage wrapped around his arm stood out sharply against his tanned skin. He looked tired, and disordered.And yet, he was still infuriatingly handsome.The sight stirred something I refused to name.So I looked away.Anger was easier to hold onto.The guard remained inside until Luciano lifted his chin slightly.“Leave.”The man obeyed immediately. The door shut with a firm click.Then Luciano leaned back slightly, studying me through the strands of hair that fell across his forehead.“Now,” he said, voice low but edged with steel, “are you ready to confess, or do you still want to play smart?”I said nothing.My throat felt tight

Luciano’s POVAfter Isabella left my room, the silence she abandoned behind felt heavier than her presence.London had shaped her into something sharper, louder, and harder to predict. She had lived there for years, building her own empire of fashion shows, charity galas, far from blood, docks, and gunpowder. The only time she returned before now was for our father’s burial. She stayed one night. The next morning she was gone, claiming the mansion suffocated her grief.She said she could not mourn inside the walls that she grew up in.I never argued.But I knew my sister.She did nothing without a reason.And if she had come back now, in the middle of tension, and shifting alliances, then something had pulled her home.I would find out what.Time always reveals what pride hides.Aria had stood quietly near the door before I dismissed her.“Get some sleep,” I told her without looking up. “We have a war to prepare for.”She hesitated, then left.When the door closed, I reached for the t