All Chapters of To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

CALISTA'S P. O. VRexia’s words were a revelation, a cascade of information that shattered my preconceived notions, overturned my assumptions, and reshaped my understanding of the conflict between the Fibonacci and Sy families. Her calm, measured tone, her unwavering gaze, her genuine remorse— they all contributed to a sense of unsettling truthfulness. I listened intently, my mind racing, my emotions a chaotic mix of disbelief, anger, and a dawning understanding.“Suspect,” Rexia began, her voice soft, her tone laced with a quiet sadness. “It was never proven, Calista. And that’s why I’m here. To clear everything up.”0“Okay,” I replied, my voice steady, my tone controlled. “I’ll listen. Just make sure everything you say is true. I want the truth, not something designed to clear your family’s name or Niccolo’s.”She nodded, her expression serious, her gaze unwavering. “Let’s start with the person who started it all— Margaret.”My eyebrows rose in surprise. “Margaret? Margaret,

CALISTA'S P. O. VPagkatapos kong magmukmok, nagsimula na akong gawin ang mga dapat kong gawin. Besides, sleep was a distant luxury, a forgotten comfort. My mind was a whirlwind, a maelstrom of information, of suspicions, of revelations. Rexia’s words echoed in my ears, her account of Margaret’s treachery, her explanation of the feud between the Fibonacci and Sy families— it all resonated with a chilling truthfulness. I spent the night immersed in research, corroborating Rexia’s claims, piecing together the puzzle, searching for evidence.And I found it. More than I had ever expected. Almost every detail Rexia had shared was confirmed by my own research, by the clues I’d uncovered, by the connections I’d made. Natanggap ko na rin ang sinasabi ni Rexia na kopya ng mga ebidensyang hawak nila. And everything was overwhelming, undeniable. And then, I found it— a photograph of Margaret, her face flushed with passion, locked in an embrace with another man. The date on the photograph was c

CALISTA'S P. O. VKinabukasan. Sa office. May mga dumating pang bagong ebidensya galing kay Rexia. The digital copies of the evidence arrived as promised, a weighty collection of documents that confirmed Rexia’s account, solidified my suspicions, and fueled my anger. The photographs, the financial records, the communication logs— they were all damning, all irrefutable. Margaret’s treachery, her greed, her ruthlessness— it was all laid bare, exposed, undeniable.Without hesitation, I made copies of everything, ensuring I had a backup before sending the originals to Calvin. He’d promised to review the evidence and take appropriate action, his assurance a reassuring balm to my simmering anger. The weight of responsibility, the burden of expectation— it was heavy, but I carried it with a newfound resolve, a steeled determination.Returning home, I found Margaret and Monica waiting, their presence a stark reminder of the simmering conflict that lay beneath the surface of our uneasy truce.

CALISTA'S P. O. VThe courtroom was a pressure cooker, the air thick with tension, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Margaret’s trial had been swift, the evidence overwhelming, the verdict inevitable. Multiple charges, multiple convictions— she was facing a lifetime behind bars, a fitting punishment for her crimes. Monica, her accomplice, her equally culpable daughter, was also being sought, her complicity in Margaret’s schemes now undeniable.The inquest was a formality, a mere procedural step in the larger process of justice. But the tension in the courtroom was palpable, the atmosphere charged with a volatile energy. And then, chaos erupted. Men, their faces masked, their weapons drawn, stormed the courtroom, gunfire shattering the tense silence, sending the room into pandemonium. Margaret’s new boyfriend’s men, I realized with a chilling certainty. Their objective was clear— to make Margaret be able to escape.The scene unfolded in a blur of motion, a chaotic ballet of

CALISTA'S P. O. VThe air hung heavy with the scent of jasmine and the soft murmur of prayers. I stood at the threshold of Ayi Hana's room, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. It had been months since I last saw her, years since the scandal that had ripped our family apart. Months since I had last called her "Ayi."She sat by the window, her frail hands clasped in her lap, her face etched with a weariness that spoke of years of sorrow. Her eyes, once bright and welcoming, were now clouded with a milky film, the light of life dimmed. "Ayi Hana," I whispered, my voice trembling.She turned, her head moving slowly, her lips curving into a faint, sad smile. "Cali," she said, her voice a raspy whisper. "You've come."I stepped into the room, the worn, familiar scent of sandalwood and incense washing over me. I knelt beside her, my hand reaching out to touch hers. It was cold, frail, a stark contrast to the warmth I remembered."I'm so sorry, Ayi," I said, my voice choke