Todos os capítulos de Size-Plus Girl Owned By Three Heirs: Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

The darkness of night hung heavily over the magnificent roof of Blackthorne Mansion, bringing with it a silence that felt suffocating. On the second-floor bedroom balcony, Isolde stood there alone, lost in thought. The night wind blew fiercely, sending strands of her black hair flying and making the thick wool coat she was wearing rustle softly. She had been cooped up inside this room for a week, carrying out a hunger strike that had left her body increasingly weak. An overwhelming sense of boredom gnawed at her soul. There was no entertainment, no freedom, only the towering walls of the gilded cage and the shadows of the three men that continued to haunt her thoughts.Isolde stared blankly at the spacious courtyard below. Her eyes narrowed when she saw a luxurious black sedan entering the main gate and stopping directly in front of the lobby. The car door opened, and a man in a neatly tailored suit stepped out with long, authoritative strides.Lucien.The mature man had just returned

The morning sunlight lazily slipped through the gaps between the heavy velvet curtains, casting a languid golden glow across Isolde’s bedroom. On the king-size bed, Isolde hugged her pillow tightly, feeling her stomach growl violently after nearly two full days of a complete hunger strike. Her throat felt dry, and her head was slightly dizzy from the lack of nutrition. Yet, that hunger was completely overwhelmed by her hatred and irritation toward the three men who were keeping her imprisoned.Knock, knock.A soft and polite knock sounded at the bedroom door. Isolde did not move at all. She assumed it must be a servant sent by Lucien to deliver the same boring food she had absolutely no intention of touching.“Go away!” Isolde shouted hoarsely from beneath the blanket, her voice weak yet filled with rejection.“It’s me, Azriel,” a calm and gentle baritone voice slipped through the crack in the door, unlike his usual cold or sarcastic tone.Isolde frowned. Her brows knitted tightly tog

Isolde rose unsteadily from the cold marble floor. Her breathing was still ragged and irregular, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to suppress the sobs that tortured her throat. Her vision blurred from a combination of hunger, the piercing dizziness in her head, and emotions that had exploded to their breaking point. The three men before her—Lucien, Evander, and Azriel—were still kneeling on the floor with their hands half-heartedly extended, their eyes reflecting a pure panic they had never shown before.Without wasting any time or caring about the horrified looks of the three predators, Isolde turned around. She ran up the remaining stairs, hurried along the second-floor corridor, and immediately burst into her own unlocked bedroom.“Isolde! Wait!” Lucien shouted in panic, immediately getting to his feet and following the girl, with Evander and Azriel running right behind him.Isolde grabbed the first sharp object she could find on her vanity—a small fruit knife with a s

The sound of a wooden cane tapping against the marble floor of the Capital University corridor in a slow and steady rhythm brought the tension between Evander and Isolde to a halt. Both of them turned toward the source of the sound at the same time. At the end of the corridor crowded with passing students, Azriel approached with an elegant demeanor that did not give off the slightest impression of an intruder.The man wore a long cream-colored coat over a black knitted shirt, contrasting with the academic bustle surrounding him. Although Azriel was not a student at this university, his presence in the middle of the elite campus immediately attracted numerous pairs of eyes—especially those of the women captivated by his mysterious aura.Evander snorted harshly, folding his arms across his chest as he stared sharply at his cousin who had just arrived. “What are you doing here, Az? This isn’t your art gallery,” Evander said sarcastically.Azriel completely ignored Evander’s sarcasm. His

The hands of the antique wall clock in the main study of Blackthorne Mansion slowly crept toward two in the morning. Its ticking sounded deafening, breaking through the suffocating silence that blanketed the room, which was as vast as a tennis court. The light drizzle outside the glass windows had now turned into a small storm, pounding against the glass as the wind roared fiercely.Standing motionless on the thick charcoal-colored wool carpet was Lucien Blackthorne. The mature man looked far older than his actual age; his suit jacket had been removed, his white shirt was disheveled with the top buttons undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His strong fingers gripped a cigarette that had already burned almost halfway down, its ashes falling carelessly onto the floor.In the corner of the room, Evander leaned his back against a marble pillar, his breathing heavy and uneven. Meanwhile, Azriel sat rigidly on the long sofa, his cold eyes staring blankly at the cup of tea t