All Chapters of Master of Her Sins: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

SebThe penthouse living room was dead quiet at five in the afternoon.I stood beside the marble bar in a black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, my dark suit jacket abandoned over a leather chair. My right hand was wrapped in thick white bandages, fresh blood seeping through the cotton. I held a crystal glass filled with scotch and took two heavy gulps, letting the liquor burn down my dry throat.Three empty bottles of aged whiskey sat beside the bar.I had not slept in two days. My eyes were bloodshot and sunken, burning with the kind of destructive exhaustion that made everything feel distant and unreal. The penthouse smelled of scotch, stale tobacco, and the rot of a man who had stopped caring what happened to him.High heels clicked sharply across the floor.Alessandra marched into the room wearing a tight yellow silk dress. Her face was flushed, her dark eyes narrowed with anger. She carried a heavy leather folder stuffed with wedding venue brochures and flower samples before slam

SebIt was three in the morning, and the darkness inside my master suite felt heavy enough to crush a man’s bones.I sat on the floor with my back pressed against the massive king bed. My dark suit trousers were stained with spilled liquor, my white shirt hung open to my stomach, and sweat soaked through the fabric. Four empty whiskey bottles surrounded me on the carpet, mixed with a sea of broken crystal.In my right hand, I clutched a small, crumpled piece of dark blue silk.The fabric was stained with my dried blood, the edges rough from how many times I had squeezed it. I held it so tightly that my bandaged fingers trembled.My left hand raised a fifth bottle to my mouth.I took another long swallow.The scotch burned down my throat, but nothing could touch the agony lodged inside my chest.A key turned softly in the brass lock.The heavy oak door creaked open.Mateo stepped inside holding a small flashlight. The beam swept across the room, illuminating the broken glass, empty bot

BelaTHE SUN was setting over Milan, painting the manicured gardens of Alejandro’s estate in deep orange and violet.Through the tall windows of the private study, I could see the last light slipping between the trees, but inside, the room remained warm and quiet, filled with the faint scent of fresh coffee and old paper.Alejandro’s chief intelligence officer and lead corporate attorney sat across from us, reviewing several digital tablets and thick folders of documents. I sat on the edge of the plush sofa in a cream cashmere sweater and gray trousers, my fingers nervously picking at the hem.Something about the atmosphere felt wrong.Alejandro sat beside me, his tailored jacket draped over the back of the sofa. He was studying a thick folder when he looked up and caught me watching him.“Is something wrong, Alejandro?” I asked softly.He gave me a small, reassuring smile before turning to his legal team. “Gentlemen, could you give us a moment?”The two men immediately stood, gathere

BelaTHE DARK blue leather folder lay open on the white linen tablecloth, illuminated by the soft glow of the conservatory candles.Alejandro sat across from me, his hands resting loosely on the table, his warm brown eyes filled with patient encouragement. He did not rush me or try to influence my decision. He simply waited while I ran my fingers over the crisp parchment inside the folder.Each page contained carefully chosen French and Italian names, their origins and meanings written in elegant black ink.I scanned the first page.Clara. Genevieve. Elena. Vivienne.They were beautiful names, filled with grace and history, but none of them felt like mine.I turned the page.Halfway down the parchment, a single name caught the candlelight.Aveline.My breath caught.I traced the smooth black letters with my fingertip. Beneath the name, a short description had been written in precise script.Aveline, French. Derived from the hazel tree, representing light, resilience, and unyielding st

SebThe heavy iron elevator doors opened into the private foyer of the Moretti penthouse.I stepped into the living room, my tactical boots leaving rain-soaked footprints across the polished marble.Freezing rain dripped from my jacket, and blood had already soaked through the fresh bandage around my right hand. I still carried the semi-automatic rifle in my left hand.The penthouse was silent.Only the faint gray light filtering through the massive windows illuminated the room. The air still carried the familiar scents of polished wood, lavender, and expensive wine.Everything was clean.Everything was calm.Everything was exactly as I had left it.But I wasn't the same man who had left.My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. The memory of the highway, of watching Alejandro take Bela farther away from me, had burned through the last piece of control I possessed.I raised the rifle.The gunfire exploded through the penthouse.Bullets tore into the grand crystal chandelier. Glass ra