Semua Bab MARRIED TO MY EX-FATHER IN LAW.: Bab 91 - Bab 100

Hannah's POV Three whole days.Three days of leaving food trays outside her bedroom door and getting nothing but one-word answers through the wood. Three days of watching Ocean move around this house like a man drowning underwater...physically here, but not really present. Going through the motions, but barely. I’ve worked for all kinds of people before this. Before Lola, before this house. I once worked for this rich family in Chelsea who were perfectly polite on the surface but completely hollow inside. I lasted eight months before the emptiness got to me and I quit. I came here for the money, but I stayed because of her, because of Lola. I’d do anything for that girl. Which is exactly why, on the morning of the third day, I pick up the breakfast tray she’s barely touched again and knock on her door. “Lola, I’m coming in,” I say firmly, then push the door open before she can tell me no. She’s not in bed this time. That’s something, at least. She’s sitting in the window seat,

Sophia's POV I've been living in this world for thirty-four long years. I came into it the same way a lot of women do...young, stupidly in love, and convinced that the man I chose was worth every single risk that came with him. Vincent was thirty-two when we got married. I was twenty-four. I thought I knew what his life meant, I thought I understood what it would demand from me. I had no fucking clue. You can’t really get it from the outside, you have to live it. Breathe it, let it sink into your bones before it stops being something happening around you and starts happening to you. Now I’m fifty-eight. I’ve buried friends, raised kids while hiding in safe houses. Sat across dinner tables from men who wanted my husband dead and smiled at them like nothing was wrong. I’ve learned the difference between violence you can see coming and the kind that blindsides you. I’ve learned which battles are worth fighting and which ones you just have to absorb and carry. I’ve learned a lot

Michael's POV The bar is tucked away in Bermondsey. Exactly the kind of dirty, low-key spot nobody from our world would ever get caught dead in. No fancy white tablecloths, no pretentious wine list, no neutral ground soaked in decades of history. Just a dark, sticky-floored room with a bartender who keeps his eyes down and music turned up loud enough to fuck with any surveillance. That’s why I picked it. I arrive first, I always do. Old habit. You never walk into a room without knowing exactly what’s waiting inside. Ocean taught me that twenty years ago. Back when he was younger and sharper, he sat across from me in a different bar and told me the man who arrives second is already playing catch-up. I’ve never forgotten it. I grab a table at the back, order water, and wait. Ethan shows up eight minutes late. He’s trying way too hard to look casual and failing miserably. Dark clothes like he

Vincent's POV Paolo used to beat me at chess every single Sunday when we were kids. Back in my father’s house in Naples, the old wooden board would come out in the back room. Paolo would sit across from me, twelve years old but already carrying that calm patience like it was built into his bones. He’d wait, watch. Think three moves ahead while I rushed my pieces forward like a hot-headed idiot and paid for it every damn time. I never beat him, not once. It used to piss me off so bad. The way only losing can piss you off when you’re young and every defeat feels like it says something deep about who you are as a man. Now? I’d give everything I own...every territory, every dollar, every ounce of power I’ve spent my life building, just to sit across that board from him one more time. Even if he beat me again, especially if he beat me again. I’m still in my study when Michael a

Michael's POV Ocean calls me four times on Thursday. I answer every single one, I feed him updates that are true enough to sound solid, but carefully stripped of anything useful. I tell him the financial trail is a nightmare to trace. That the communication logs are buried under layers of encryption that’s taking forever to crack. That I’m pulling every resource we have and working around the clock. All of that is technically true. What I don’t tell him is that I know exactly where every trail leads because I built the whole damn thing myself. That the encryption is designed to peel back slowly, just slow enough that it won’t give him anything useful before the tribunal. That the resources I’m “pulling” are being sent in the completely wrong direction on purpose. He thanks me after every call. That part hits me in a way I didn’t expect, he thanks me, and he actually means it. The tribunal