All Chapters of Contract Wife for the Cartel Heir : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Aria’s POVAll guests for the charity had to stay in the hotel overnight. I wasn’t avoiding Romano.I was simply choosing not to be in the same room as him.There was a difference.At least that was what I kept telling myself as I wandered through the hotel the next afternoon carrying a book I hadn’t actually read in twenty minutes.My thoughts kept drifting back to the dinner night.To Enzo.To the way his expression changed when he heard my surname.To the strange conversation I had overheard afterward.None of it made sense.And whenever something didn’t make sense, my brain refused to let it go.“You look like you’re trying to solve a murder.”I nearly jumped.Thomas stood a few feet away holding a cup of coffee.I hadn’t even heard him approach.“That’s concerning.”His smile appeared immediately.“That you look like you’re solving a murder?”“No.”I crossed my arms.“That people keep sneaking up on me.”“Maybe you’re distracted.”Unfortunately he was right.Thomas fell into step

Aria’s POVI hated silence, especially this silence. The mansion was unusually quiet, but not the peaceful kind, this one felt wrong.Romano hadn’t spoken to me since the argument, not at breakfast, not when we passed each other in the hallway, not even when Dante awkwardly tried to force both of us into the same room twice. I wanted some type of space from him but this kind was the exact opposite of what I needed but unfortunately, Romano seemed determined to give me exactly what I asked for and worse. I stared down at my coffee, then sighed. I’ve been staring at my coffee lost in thought. “You look miserable.”I looked up, Dante was standing in the doorway, wonderful. “Go away.”“No.”He sat down across from me, I immediately regretted not standing up to leave. Dante studied me for a second. “You know, for someone who won the argument, you don’t seem very happy.”“I didn’t win.”“No,” he agreed. “You really didn’t.”I groaned.“Thank you, Dante. That’s very helpful.”“Anytime.”

Aria’s POVThe address sat folded inside my pocket for a few days before I finally lost the battle, a few days of fighting an internal battle, three days telling myself Romano was right and I should wait. Three days of wondering if my parents had once walked through the same front door I couldn’t stop imagining.By the fourth day, curiosity had become something else, a big need.I waited until late morning when Romano usually left for meetings and Dante had disappeared to do some work for the cartel. I came downstairs to the garage, I wasn’t going to drive but I needed aomething from he car Romano had assigned to me; I was about to leave when I met a guard.“Ms Vale.” He said gesturing at the car, then I lied; it wasn’t even a good lie“I’m going shopping.”The guard assigned to me nodded.I convinced my self I wasn’t lying, because technically, I wasn’t.I was going shopping but just not for clothes. I decided last minute to take the car in case something bad happened. The drive t

Aria’s POVThe journal was gone, I searched my room twice before accepting it, then a third time because denial was easier than reality. I scattered every drawer, every shelf, even under the table, inside the wardrobe, the bathroom, nothing. The journal could not have vanished, it was stolen and that only meant there was an intruder in the house. My hands were shaking by the time I ran downstairs. For the first time since finding the Vale estate, genuine fear settled in my chest.Because whoever had taken the journal didn’t want money, they didn’t touch my jewelry or laptop, they had only taken one exact thing and it was the thing connecting me to my parents, capable of answering questions and somebody clearly didn’t want me having that but why. I found Romano in the library. He looked up the moment I entered, one glance at my face and he was already standing.“What happened?”“The journal.”My voice sounded strange, I spoke fast and panicked. “It’s gone.”Every trace of warmth d

Romano’s POV The body was discovered just after dawn. I had been awake for less than twenty minutes when one of my men called. The urgency in his voice immediately told me this wasn’t routine business. “Boss, you need to see this.” Thirty minutes later I was standing beside an abandoned road outside Milan staring at a dead man. The victim looked ordinary enough. Mid-thirties. Dark hair. Average build. No identification. No immediate clues. At first glance he could have been anyone. Then I saw the carving. My stomach tightened. Half of an unfamiliar symbol had been carved into the skin near his ribs. Most people wouldn’t have recognized it. But I did, because I had seen that symbol before. The Vale estate, the journal, the documents, the photographs. Every single one contained variations of the same mark. “What do we know?” I asked. “Nothing yet.” I crouched beside the body, studying the symbol carefully. Whoever had done this hadn’t been careless. This wasn’t random viol