Alle Kapitel von One Night Stand With My Future Uncle In Law : Kapitel 161 – Kapitel 170

Gabriella's POV The digital clock on the bedside table glowed in the darkness of the room. The silence surrounding me was heavy, broken only by the sharp, frantic sound of my own shallow breathing. I held the phone pressed tightly against my ear, the plastic casing growing warm against my palm. Every nerve in my body was on edge. "Mariano—" I began, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Listen to me." His voice came through the speaker, urgent and sharp. It was filled with that familiar authority, the tone of a man accustomed to commanding rooms and dictating outcomes. "Do not accept the plea deal. Do not call your lawyer. Do not agree to anything. I am going to fix this. I am going to find a way to prove your innocence. I am going to make sure your mother pays for what she did." I listened to the steady rhythm of his speech. He sounded so certain, so completely convinced of his ability to step in and alter the course of events. He was a man who had spent his entire life taking con

The law office was small and clean. It smelled like fresh coffee. I sat in a leather chair across from a woman named Mackenzie Cole. She was in her forties with sharp eyes and short dark hair. She had been recommended to me by a former classmate who owed me a favor. She did not work for my father. She did not work for Mariano. She worked for me.“I need you to understand something,” Mackenzie said. She folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “You are facing serious charges. Plagiarism. Embezzlement. The evidence against you is strong on paper. But paper can be burned.”I leaned forward. “I do not want you to burn anything. I want you to help me fight.”“That is what I am here for.” Mackenzie picked up a pen and tapped it against her notebook. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”I told her everything. I sat in the chair and spoke clearly. I told her about my mother. I explained how my mother had manipulated me for months. I told her about the forged documents that had my na

Gabriella's POV The taxi pulled up to the curb on the east side of the city. I paid the driver, opened the car door, and stepped out onto the pavement. The air hit me instantly. It was cold, damp, and heavy with the smell of salt water and rotting wood from the harbor. I looked around. The area was completely abandoned. The old docks stretched out before me in long, silent lines. The warehouses were rusted and falling apart, their metal walls peeling away from the frames. The water in the harbor was dark, still, and black under the grey sky. There was no one around. There were no cars parked on the streets. There were no people walking by. There was only the sound of the wind blowing against the metal buildings and the distant lapping of water against the concrete piers. I started walking. I walked past building one. The windows were smashed out, and dark holes stared back at me. I walked past building two. The wooden loading dock was splintered and broken. I walked past buildi

Gabriella's POVIt had been three days.I sat at the wooden desk in the corner of my bedroom, surrounded by stacks of white paper. Pages were scattered across the floor, draped over the edge of the bed, and piled high around my laptop. The continuous hum of the small desktop printer vibrated through the room as it spit out another set of property records, public deeds, and financial disclosures.My eyes burned from staring at the bright screen in the dim lighting. My stomach was a tight, painful knot of empty air, but I ignored it. I had not eaten a bite of food in seventy-two hours. I had not left this room. My entire world had shrunk down to these four walls, the ink on these pages, and the relentless search for my mother.The bedroom door clicked open.Raphael walked into the room carrying a porcelain plate loaded with hot food. Steam rose from the meal, filling the room with the smell of meat and vegetables. He stepped over a pile of printed documents on the rug and walked over to

Gabriella's POVPain was the first thing that returned to me. It came back in slow, heavy waves, throbbing behind my eyes, pulsating in my chest, and burning through my right ankle.My eyelids felt like lead. I forced them open, but it made almost no difference. Darkness enveloped me, absolute and thick. The sharp, bitter smell of gasoline and burnt rubber was gone, replaced by the damp, stagnant odor of concrete, rust, and mold.I tried to reach up to touch my head, but my arms would not move.I jerked my wrists, and the sharp metal of cold handcuffs bit deep into my skin. My arms were pulled back behind my torso, secured tightly to the iron frame of a heavy chair. I tried to shift my legs, but thick, coarse ropes bound my ankles to the wooden chair legs, pulling the fabric of my pants tight against my swollen, injured right joint. Pain shot straight up my spine, forcing a sharp gasp from my throat.Memory slammed into me like the bumper of the truck that had run me off the road—the