All Chapters of THE CURSED NECKLACE: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Roberto woke first, the morning light softer now, wrapping their room in a quiet golden haze. Elena was still tucked against him, her breathing slow and even, one leg tangled with his beneath the sheets. For the first time in his life, he felt *happy*. Not satisfied. Not victorious. Simply, deeply happy. No weight of the organization on his shoulders. No shadow of his father looming. No debts or blood to answer for. Just Elena.He stayed still for a long time, content to hold her. When she shifted, he pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. “Don’t move,” he murmured against her skin, voice rough with sleep and lingering pleasure. “Not yet.”Elena laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. She turned in his arms and brushed her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead with a tenderness that made his throat tighten. “You’re clingy this morning, Roberto.”“Only with you.” He caught her hand and kissed her palm, then her wrist, then pulle

They stood before the small, isolated cottage, the mist curling around its weathered walls like a shroud. Smoke rose steadily from the chimney, thin and defiant against the oppressive gray of the Harbor. Roberto stared, unblinking, his body locked in place. The First Bonded watched him carefully, its ancient eyes unusually guarded. Elena’s gaze dropped to Roberto’s hands—they were shaking, a rare crack in the armor he had worn for so long. She reached out and steadied one with her own.“This isn’t possible,” Roberto said, voice low and rough.“Yet here we are,” the First Bonded replied quietly.Elena squeezed his hand, her touch gentle but firm. “Let’s find out.”They stepped inside.The cottage felt impossibly lived-in—warm, normal, almost painfully so. Sunlight that had no right to exist filtered through small windows, illuminating jars filled with wildflowers on a wooden table. Books lay stacked on shelves, their spines worn from years of reading. A kettle whistled softly on

The silence in the cottage felt heavier than anything Roberto had ever carried. “Francesco was never your father.”The words kept ringing in his head, over and over. Everything he thought he knew about himself cracked apart in that moment. The man he had spent his whole life trying to impress, trying to earn even one kind word from—that man wasn’t his blood. The abuse, the coldness, the hatred… it had all been because Roberto existed at all. And his real father had been right beside him this whole time, hidden behind shadows and centuries, already dead.Roberto didn’t shout. He didn’t cry. He simply turned and walked out of the cottage. The door closed softly behind him.Elena started to follow, worry clear on her face, but his mother reached out and gently caught her arm. “Let him breathe, child. He needs a moment alone with this.”Roberto walked without thinking, feet carrying him toward the black shoreline. The mist wrapped around him like old friends. Waves lapped quietly at the

The silence in the cottage was thick and heavy, pressing down on everyone like the mist outside. Eduardo’s words still echoed: “Francesco.” The name felt like a curse that refused to fade.Elena steadied herself, ignoring the way her heart raced. She took a small step forward, eyes fixed on the man she had once trusted, once mourned. “Where did you get that stone, Eduardo? Tell me the truth. What has Francesco been doing here in the Harbor? How long has he been tampering with it?”Eduardo’s smile stayed wide and unnatural, his fingers tightening around the jagged weapon. He looked at her like nothing else in the room mattered. “He’s been fixing things, Elena. Making the rules bend a little. For souls like us. For bonds that never should have broken.”Elena opened her mouth to ask more, to push harder, but a sudden sharp pain bloomed behind her eyes. She blinked, and warm wetness trickled from her nose. She lifted a trembling hand to touch it. Blood. Bright red against her pale fingers

Three Years LaterElena hurried along the cracked sidewalk, her worn coat pulled tight against the late afternoon chill. The daycare center’s bright yellow sign came into view, and she quickened her pace, checking her watch. She was only five minutes late today—better than last week. The familiar ache in her feet from another long shift at the café reminded her that time didn’t wait for anyone.Inside, the warm, chaotic noise of children washed over her. Little voices chattered about crayons and snacks. She spotted her daughter immediately, sitting quietly on the colorful rug with a picture book in her lap. The girl’s dark curls bounced as she looked up, brown eyes lighting with recognition.“Mama!”Elena knelt down, pulling the three-year-old into a tight hug. “Hi, my love. Did you have a good day?”The little girl nodded, clutching her book. “We drew trees. I made one for you.”Elena smiled, taking the crumpled drawing and folding it carefully into her bag. “It’s beautiful. Let’s ge