บททั้งหมดของ Owned By My Mafia Brother-in-law : บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

Chapter 150|| Reinaldo’s POV ||Texas had not been an accident."New York had not fooled me," Fiol says inHer name, her clean paperwork, her quiet life of an artist—that had all been impressive. Almost admirable.Nearly.I had observed her for months before I finally set foot in this apartment. I knew her patterns. Times. Her momentary indecision over crosswalks. The habit of checking her reflection in store windows rather than turning her head. She had been careful—pain can make people predictable.And hope made them careless.I sat in the dark of her apartment, drinking in air thick with the scent of oil paint and turpentine, listening to the creaking of her building. I had gotten there hours before she arrived. The cameras were already online. The door had opened readily. She trusted the world far too much.Hearing her footsteps in the hallway, measured but fatigued, a knot formed in me—not anticipation, not relief.Feedback."This," I thought, "was the woman who had destroyed my

Chapter 152|| ANASTASIA’S POV ||The mansion had not felt like a home. It had felt like a decision.I had woken long before dawn, though I could not call what I had done “sleep.” My eyes had closed, yes, but my mind had stayed alert, circling around the same truth like a blade circling its target.Today, I was going to marry the Duke.The words should have sounded unreal. They should have sounded like something spoken about another woman. But they did not. They landed in my chest with blunt weight, and they stayed there, heavy and immovable. When the first pale light slipped through the curtains, it did not bring warmth. It only made the room visible. It showed me the carefully chosen elegance: the carved furniture, the polished wood, the expensive fabrics that had been placed here to create an illusion of comfort. But no matter how beautiful the room was, it could not soften the fact that I was here because someone had decided I needed to be here.The maids arrived as if they had b

Chapter 154 Sleep did not come to Reinaldo easily that night.His eyes were closed, yet his mind refused to rest. The silence of the palace felt heavy, almost accusing, and with every slow breath he took, memories crept closer, pressing against his consciousness until they finally broke through.He was no longer a man lying in a grand bed. He was a child again.The memory began with speed—too much of it. The road had blurred past the windows, lights stretching into long streaks of white and red. He remembered laughter, careless and young, filling the car only moments before everything shattered. Tires screamed against wet asphalt. Someone had shouted his name. Then there had been the violent impact, metal screaming louder than any human voice.Pain had exploded through his body.Reinaldo remembered the sensation of being thrown forward, his head slamming hard, the air ripped violently from his lungs. His chest had burned as if fire had been poured into it. He had tried to inhale, but

Chapter 156|| REINALDO’S POV ||The chamber felt heavier than stone that day. Even before the council session began, I sensed the tension hanging in the air—sharp, impatient, almost eager to draw blood. Ryan stood opposite me.He smiled first.He clasped his hands behind his back and took a step forward, as if the chamber belonged to him already.“Well,” Ryan said, his voice smooth and loud enough to carry to every corner of the hall, “it seems we’re here again, cousin. Competing for something that should have been obvious from the start.”A murmur rippled through the panel.I met his gaze. “If it were obvious, we wouldn’t be here.”Ryan chuckled softly. “Still sharp-tongued. That hasn’t changed.”One of the elders cleared his throat. “State your case, Lord Ryan. Concisely.”Ryan inclined his head, feigning respect. “Of course.” Then his eyes flicked back to me. “I speak not just as a noble, but as a man who has fulfilled his duties—to family, to legacy, to the crown.”I felt it bef

Chapter 158 || REINALDO’S POV ||The announcement hall felt colder than it looked.Reinaldo stood in his assigned place, his posture straight, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression carefully neutral. He could feel hundreds of eyes on him, measuring, judging, waiting.This is not a celebration, he reminded himself. This is a test.The Panel members sat on the raised platform ahead of him, their faces composed, almost bored, as if they were deciding the fate of a document instead of a man’s life. Cameras lined the sides of the hall, red lights blinking softly, ready to capture every blink, every breath.A voice echoed through the hall.“His Highness Reinaldo de Valencia, please step forward.”Reinaldo moved.Each step felt heavier than the last. He stopped at the center, bowed with practiced precision, and raised his head again. His eyes scanned the room—nobles, officials, reporters, strangers pretending to smile. He recognized admiration in some gazes, resentment in others