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KABANATA 82
Last Updated:
2025-01-25 09:06:31
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To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss KABANATA 83
CALISTA'S P. O. VThe tears flowed freely, hot and stinging, a testament to my frustration, my anger, my despair. My carefully constructed plans, my meticulously crafted strategies—they had all failed. Niccolo’s suspicion, his anger, his rejection—they were all a crushing blow to my carefully constructed facade. Kung kailan iniisip ko na gumagana na ang lahat, kung kailan akala ko umuusad na 'yung plano ko. I had underestimated him, miscalculated his response, failed to anticipate his reaction. And now, I was paying the price.The pain wasn't just physical; it was emotional, a deep, aching wound that went beyond the bruises and the cuts. It was the pain of betrayal, the pain of rejection, the pain of being used, the pain of being discarded. He treated me as if I were nothing, as if I were disposable, as if I had no value, no worth. And the realization was a crushing blow, a bitter pill to swallow.My carefully constructed image, the seductive persona I had cultivated, had crumbled.
Last Updated : 2025-01-25To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss KABANATA 84
CALISTA'S P. O. VThe cold, hard floor had become my bed, my sanctuary, my symbol of defiance. Nights bled into days, a monotonous cycle of solitude and introspection. At sa bawat gabing lumipas ay dito na ako natutulog palagi sa sahig. Mula no'ng araw na sinimulan kong gawin 'tom. At mula rin no'ng nagkasagutan kami ni Niccolo, hindi na s'ya ulit pumunta pa rito sa kwartong 'to. And his absence was a heavy weight, a suffocating presence that filled the empty space in my life. His touch, his kiss, his presence—they were all distant memories now, fading echoes of a past intimacy.Alam ko na hindi ko dapat nararamdaman 'to. But what can I do? Paulit ulit na lang at pagod na pagod na rin akong i deny sa sarili ko ang katotohanan na may kakaibang dating pa rin talaga si Niccolo sa akin. There's still a part of him that I longed to have. To feel, to own. Pwede naman siguro akong maghiganti kahit may nararamdaman ako sa target ko, 'di ba? As long as I know my limitations and boundaries.
Last Updated : 2025-01-25To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss KABANATA 85
NICCOLO'S P. O. VA restless unease had been gnawing at me for days, a disquieting sense of emptiness that I couldn’t quite explain. Calista’s absence from my bed, her deliberate choice to sleep on the cold, hard floor—it had been a constant, nagging reminder of my own failings, my own shortcomings. Alam ko 'yon dahil mula no'ng nag away kami, walang araw na hindi ko s'ya pinupuntahan. Walang gabi na hindi ko tinitingnan kung okay lang ba s'ya. But I did it during those times that she's asleep. Ayokong maisip n'ya na naaapektuhan ako sa kanya. Well, yes I am. But I don't want to give her some reassurance, dahil ayokong isipin n'ya na ayos lang na disrespetuhin n'ya ako dahil hindi ko rin naman s'ya matitiis. It shouldn't be that f*cking way. The calculated seduction, the intoxicating passion—it had all been a game, a twisted, dangerous game that I had been playing, and yet, I found myself increasingly drawn to her, increasingly captivated by her resilience, her defiance. Alam ko na
Last Updated : 2025-01-25To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss KABANATA 86
CALISTA'S P. O. VThe scent of alcohol was unmistakable, a familiar tang that hung in the air, a subtle hint of expensive brandy. Niccolo was drunk, his senses dulled, his inhibitions lowered. And I knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was my chance. My opportunity. My moment.Naisip kong gamitin ang kalasingan n'ya para mapapayag na s'ya sa mga gusto kong mangyari. And that's what I want. Having him drunk is a great advantage. Pero kahit anong pilit ko sa sarili ko, malakas ang pakiramdam ko na hindi ko 'yon magagawa. Hindi ko kayang gawin. “Wake up, kitty,” he slurred once again, his voice thick with alcohol, his touch gentle, his demeanor surprisingly tender. “Come back to your bed. Doon ka na ulit sa kama matulog, please. Do you want me to carry you?”The tears flowed freely, hot and stinging, a testament to my carefully constructed vulnerability, my calculated surrender. “S-Sorry,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion, my body trembling. I threw my arms around him
Last Updated : 2025-01-25To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss KABANATA 87
CALISTA'S P. O. VThe lifting of the room confinement was a victory, a small but significant step towards my ultimate goal. Niccolo’s concession, his willingness to allow me to eat in the dining area, to move freely within the house— it was a sign of his growing trust, a testament to the effectiveness of my manipulation. I woke before dawn, eager to seize the opportunity, to familiarize myself with the house, to identify potential escape routes, to plan my next move.Pagbaba ko, naabutan ko na nagluluto ng almusal si Rico. "Hello, good morning,” nakangiti kong bati sa kanya bago ako umupo sa isa sa mga upuan na nando'n. Napalingon agad sa akin si Rico at halatang nataranta pagkakita sa akin. "Anong ginagawa n'yo rito? Paano kayo nakalabas? Bumalik kayo do'n sa taas, sa kwarto. Kung hindi, malilintikan ako—” "Relax!” putol ko sa mga sasabihin n'ya pa. And then I laugh. Isang malakas na halakhak. "How do you expect someone like me, to get away with those security something you put
Last Updated : 2025-01-25To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss KABANATA 88
CALISTA'S P. O. VThe descent to the breakfast table should have been a mundane act, a simple transition from one part of the day to another. Instead, it felt charged, tense, heavy with unspoken anxieties and simmering resentments. Niccolo walked beside me, his arm brushing against mine, his touch both possessive and protective. But the air crackled with a different kind of energy, a different kind of tension. Lyra was there, already seated at the table, her presence a stark contrast to the usual quiet solitude of the mornings. Her gaze was sharp, her expression cold, her demeanor hostile. And it was directed squarely at me.“Good morning, Lyra,” I said, my voice carefully modulated, my tone laced with a practiced politeness. The greeting was met with a withering stare, a cold, dismissive silence. The pretense of normalcy, the carefully constructed illusion of a happy couple— it was crumbling.“So the news is true,” Lyra finally said, her voice sharp, her tone laced with a mixture o
Last Updated : 2025-01-25To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss KABANATA 89
CALISTA'S P. O. VLyra’s warning echoed in my ears, a chilling reminder of the danger I was in, the precariousness of my situation. Kahit nakabalik na ako sa kwarto ay tumatakbo pa rin 'yon sa isip ko. At ngayon na mag isa lang ako ay lalong inaba ng isipin na 'yon ang utak ko. The casual cruelty with which Niccolo had struck his own sister, the cold fury in his eyes— it had shaken me to my core. If he could treat his own family with such brutality, what would he do to me? Lalo na kapag galit pa s'ya? Especially if he discovered my deception, my manipulation, my plan for revenge?Fear gnawed at me, a cold, relentless dread that threatened to consume me. The carefully constructed facade, the calculated confidence, the unwavering resolve— they all crumbled in the face of this raw, visceral fear. My safety, my well-being— they were suddenly precarious, uncertain, threatened. The escape, the revengpe— they seemed increasingly distant, increasingly elusive.The thought of retreating, of
Last Updated : 2025-01-25To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss KABANATA 90
NICCOLO'S P. O. VLyra’s words struck me like a physical blow, each syllable a sharp, stinging rebuke, each accusation a cold, hard truth I couldn’t deny. We stood facing each other, the tension between us thick, palpable, suffocating. Her eyes blazed with a fury I hadn’t seen before, a righteous anger that chilled me to the bone. And I knew, with a chilling certainty, that she was right. I had been wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. Just somehow. “You’re making a huge mistake, Kuya,” she said, her voice low, her tone laced with a chilling conviction. “Isang napakalaking pagkakamali. Dead wrong to defend that woman. One day, you’ll see it. Tandaan mo 'yan. And when that day came, expect me to say "I told you so."”Her words hung in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on me, suffocating me. Ayoko s'yang kaharapin lalo na at pareho pa kaming mainit. But I couldn't shake the feeling that she just made me feel. At ayoko rin na kimkimin lahat ng 'to. And somehow, I know, I better spea
Last Updated : 2025-01-25
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MARGARET'S P. O. VThe years that followed were a blur of opulence and carefully calculated risk. Arnaldo’s wealth had become our playground, a source of endless luxury and power. But it wasn't enough. The thrill of the game, the adrenaline rush of manipulating others, had become addictive. I craved more, something beyond the confines of our carefully constructed world. That's where the Fibonacci Mafia came in.They were a powerful organization, their tentacles reaching into every corner of the city's underbelly. I'd initially approached them cautiously, offering my services as a financial advisor, a seemingly innocuous role that allowed me to infiltrate their inner circle. My charm, my intelligence, my ruthless ambition quickly won their trust. I learned their secrets, their weaknesses, their intricate network of operations. I became an indispensable part of their operations, privy to their most sensitive information.But my ambition knew no bounds. I wasn't content to be merely a pl
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MARGARET'S P. O. VThe wedding was a spectacle, a lavish affair that masked the cold calculation that had orchestrated it. Arnaldo, still bearing the scars of grief, looked like a man walking through a dream, his eyes holding a strange mixture of sorrow and something akin to… contentment. Contentment that I had carefully cultivated, nurtured, and manipulated. My own daughter, Monica, stood beside me, a picture of innocent obliviousness, unaware of the darkness that fueled our ascent.The mansion was opulent, even more so than I remembered. It was a gilded cage, a testament to Arnaldo's wealth, a prize I had finally claimed. I stood in the master bedroom, gazing out at the sprawling gardens, a triumphant smile playing on my lips. Isabella’s presence was completely erased, her belongings gone, her memory relegated to a distant, inconvenient past. This was my victory, my conquest, my reward for a meticulously planned campaign of manipulation and deceit.Arnaldo, now my husband, was a sha
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MARGARET'S P. O. VThe polished mahogany of Arnaldo Sy’s office felt different this time, heavier, draped in a somber veil of grief. The air hung thick with unspoken sorrow, a stark contrast to the usual crisp efficiency that permeated the space. Arnaldo sat behind his large desk, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with a weariness that went beyond simple fatigue. He looked older, broken, the vibrant energy that had once characterized him extinguished, replaced by a hollow emptiness.I approached him slowly, my movements deliberate, my expression carefully crafted to convey sympathy and concern. The news of Isabella’s death had been plastered across every news outlet, a spectacle of tragedy that I had orchestrated with cold precision. Now, I would play the role of the sympathetic friend, the comforting presence in his time of need. My heart, however, felt strangely devoid of emotion, a cold, calculating engine driving my actions.“Arnaldo,” I said softly, my voice laced with a car
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MARGARET'S P. O. VThe champagne was cold, the crystal flute elegant in my hand, but the celebratory mood felt hollow, a thin veneer over the churning anxiety within me. I sat alone in my opulent apartment, the city lights a blurred spectacle outside my window. The silence was deafening, a heavy blanket smothering the usual vibrant hum of the city. It was a silence pregnant with anticipation, a silence that screamed louder than any celebration.The news had been sparse, deliberately vague. A small chartered plane, en route to a remote region, had gone down. Details were scarce, the investigation ongoing. But I knew. I knew what had happened, what I had orchestrated. The weight of my actions pressed down on me, a crushing burden of guilt and exhilaration.My phone lay beside me, a cold, inert object. I longed for it to ring, to break the suffocating silence, to bring confirmation, to bring closure. But the silence persisted, stretching into an eternity of agonizing suspense. Each tick
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MARGARET'S P. O. VThe information arrived like a poisoned dart, precise and deadly. Isabella was scheduled to fly to a remote region in the north, leading a relief operation for victims of a recent typhoon. The details were scant, but enough to ignite the cold fire of my ambition. This was it, the opportunity I'd been waiting for, the perfect chance to finally take my plans to the next level. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat accompanying the chilling certainty that consumed me.I paced my opulent apartment, the city lights a glittering backdrop to my dark thoughts. The phone call had been brief, anonymous, a whisper in the night. But the information it contained was a detonator, setting off a chain reaction within me. This wasn't just about acquiring Arnaldo; it was about eliminating the obstacle, removing Isabella from the equation. The thought sent a shiver of exhilaration down my spine, mingling with a chilling sense of dread.The plan formed in my mind, swift
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