All Chapters of Forbidden By Her Mafia Stepbrother : Chapter 321 - Chapter 330

Fiora stood watching the corner where Viola disappeared until the faint sound of footsteps died out completely.She let out a slow breath, picked up the laundry basket, and walked toward the third wing. At the very end of the hall stood the heavy, reinforced oak door that separated the rest of the house from the forbidden wing. She pulled a heavy brass key from around her neck, inserted it into the deadbolt, and turned it twice. The heavy oak door gave way with a soft, dull click.Fiora stepped into the dimly lit foyer, reaching behind her to pull the door shut.Before the latch could catch, a large, calloused hand clamped around her slender wrist like a steel vise.Fiora gasped, her basket tumbling to the floor, clean linens scattering across the dark parquet.In a single, violent motion, she was hauled backward and pinned firmly against the wooden floorboards, the heavy weight of a man looming directly over her.Fiora flinched, shutting her eyes tight."You're late," a rough, hoars

Diego didn't make a sound. His gray eyes never left her face. He watched every breath she took, watching the quiet concentration in her features as she wound clean white gauze around his palm and tied it securely. A faint, manic smile began to touch his lips. "My flower," he murmured, his voice soft and reverent in the dark room. "My little flower isn't scared of me." ______ Across the estate, Viola slipped quietly back into her old second-floor bedroom. She clicked the lock into place and stood in the dark, her heart hammering against her ribs. She needed money. A keycard would get her through the back door, but once she stepped outside the gates, she would be alone. Without cash, she couldn't buy a bus ticket, call a cab, or find a place to hide. Viola stood by the bed, her mind racing through the years she spent in this house. Think, she told herself, pressing a trembling hand to her temple. Think. Then she remembered. When she ran away from the estate the last time, she

Viola stayed quiet, waiting calmly for a reply. She was too calm for the violent storm tearing through her chest, but she refused to let him see her break. Not tonight. Not in front of him.Sebastian lifted his hand, his fingers moving in the air to touch her cheek.Viola took a sharp step back, turning her face away from his reach."Don't."Sebastian’s hand hung empty in the air for a second before slowly dropping to his side."Where were you going, Dulzura?" he asked, his voice low and level."Don't call me that," Viola said, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white. "You don't get to call me that anymore.""Where were you going?" he repeated."I was going away from here," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "Away from this house. Away from you. And I don't need your permission, Sebastian."She used his name with quiet defiance, throwing it back at him like a stone.Sebastian looked at her, his expression remaining completely calm. "Yo

"No."The single syllable fell between them like lead."You don't own me," she said, her voice rising as panic finally pierced through the exhaustion. She wedged her forearms between their chests, digging her elbows against his ribs, pushing with everything she had left. "Let go of me! I said let go!""Stop fighting me, Viola."His grip shifted, wrapping around her upper arms like steel bands, completely absorbing her struggle without yielding an inch."I hate you!" she cried out, her small hands clawing frantically at his wrists, her nails scratching against the dark ink along his skin. "I hate you, I hate this house, and I hate every word you ever told me! Let me out!"She twisted violently, dropping her weight to drag herself out of his reach.Sebastian’s patience broke.With a low, dark growl in his throat, he spun her around, his arm locking over her collarbone, hauling her straight toward the narrow iron bed.Viola’s knees hit the mattress hard, the springs groaning beneath the

In the dark behind his eyelids, the ghost of Viola’s tear-stained face refused to leave him. He could still see the bruised swell of her lower lip, still hear the broken rasp of her voice tearing at him in the bedroom. She was never supposed to know about the alliance. He made sure she was hidden miles away in the secluded countryside villa, guarded behind layers of security, far from Madrid and the suffocating political theater of the Syndicate.Then Lorenzo Belladonna struck.The Italian played his hand with ruthless precision. He timed the breach for the exact afternoon of the gala, testing the waters when every syndicate boss, politician, and spy had their eyes fixed squarely on Sebastian. Lorenzo wanted to see if the Hierro boss would flinch, if he would break ranks and expose a hidden weakness.Sebastian knew Viola was back inside the estate—Enoch alerted him the moment she crossed the gates—but he never expected Octavia to drag her straight into the blinding lights of the ballr