All Chapters of Twice Claimed By The Mafia Alpha and His Billionaire Twin: Chapter 131 - Chapter 138

ADRIAN'S POVHenry's voice cracked through the phone before I could even close my laptop."They found her, sir. The Den. Rogues."I didn't hear the rest.I didn't remember leaving the conference room. One moment, investors were speaking; the next, I was already halfway to the elevator, every billion-dollar discussion fading into meaningless noise."Sir! Your jacket!" Henry caught up and pushed it into my hands, breathing hard. "The investors—""I don't care.""But the deal—""Handle it."Somewhere behind me, I heard someone say, "Billions." The word echoed through the room. A few people gasped. Chairs scraped across the floor. Voices rose behind me. But it didn't matter.Not anymore.Nothing mattered except getting to her.By the time my car screamed around the last bend before Lucian's Den, I saw Evana half-dragging Ariel across the gravel, both of them limping, both of them bleeding from places I couldn't count fast enough."Adrian!" Ariel's voice broke through the wind rushing past

ARIEL'S POVI woke to an empty bassinet and my own scream still hanging in the air."Where is he?" I was already off the bed, wires ripping from my arm, my legs buckling under me before Evana caught my shoulders. "Where is my son?""He's in observation," the nurse said, too fast, too bright, the kind of voice people use when they're lying to a child. "Standard procedure after a difficult delivery. Nothing to worry about."I didn't believe her for one second. I made her walk me to the nursery myself, one hand gripping the IV pole like a weapon, and when we got there, the crib they pointed to was empty and cold like it had never held a baby at all. Another nurse checked the log. Then another. Nobody could tell me which room he'd been moved to, which doctor had signed for him, which floor. The window at the end of the hall was open, curtains snapping in the wind, and the nurse who'd carried him out of the delivery room twenty minutes earlier was nowhere in the building."The cameras," a

LUCIEN'S POVI stopped fighting three days ago.The chains dug into my wrists deep enough that I couldn't feel my fingers anymore, and every time one of Drake's men came down those stairs, I let them hit me.I didn't raise a hand. I didn't growl. My father's soldiers took turns like it was a shift schedule, fists and boots and the occasional blade edge across skin that used to heal fast and now just bled slowly, and I let every one of them land because I had already decided something in the dark that made the pain feel almost fair.I wasn't fit to be anyone's father.Ariel had survived nine months carrying my son with nothing from me but silence and a debt she never asked for, and somewhere out there Adrian was doing what I never learned how to — showing up, staying, choosing her without conditions attached. What had I ever given her except a night she didn't remember choosing and a lifetime of running from men like my father?A boy deserved better than a king who dealt in blood money

ARIEL'S POVThe remote is shaking in Lucian's hand before I even understood why.His knuckles have gone white around the plastic, and for a man who once watched his own guards die without blinking, that small tremor scares me more than anything on the screen.I follow his eyes back to the TV, where Isabella Moretti is being walked down a courthouse staircase in handcuffs, her hair perfect, her face empty, cameras stroking white against her skin like she's still posing for something. Behind her, further down the steps, a man in a rumpled suit gets shoved into another car — Mayor Moretti, no title left to hide behind now, his tie crooked, his mouth moving in words the microphones don't catch."Turn it up, that's Drake," Adrian says, and I still flinch a little every time I hear that name out loud, even now that the man attached to it is ash and paperwork.Lucian turns it up. The anchor's voice fills the room, crisp and merciless;“Sources confirm the murder weapon matches wounds found o