All Chapters of THE MAFIA'S PRISONER: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

"Lady Chateau, would you like to browse some clothes? There’s a shop here with affordable yet high-quality outfits," Sophie offered enthusiastically. Chateau naturally nodded in agreement.Sophie clasped her hand, leading her to the store she had mentioned—a modest clothing shop across the street. The shop was quite busy, likely confirming Sophie’s claim. With its classic vintage ambiance, it wasn’t extravagant like a boutique but carried a charm reminiscent of Chateau’s hometown. Stepping inside, she felt a wave of nostalgia.They wandered through the relatively small store, exploring the assortment of clothes. The activity felt refreshing, providing a pleasant distraction. Situated in a French village, the shop predominantly carried French-inspired attire, adhering to a vintage theme featuring styles from before the 2000s.“Lady Chateau, try this on,” Sophie said, interrupting her companion’s quiet admiration of another section. Sophie held up a 90s-style yellow dress, adorned with

The room fell into a deep silence. All eyes turned to Leonard, the source of the Frederick family’s unease. Their confusion was evident—why had the once-pleasant atmosphere of the party turned so heavy, as if the Angel of Death himself had joined the celebration of the little girl’s birthday?Ellijah remained quiet, her demeanor calm and reserved. Yet Leonard, ever observant, detected a faint trace of fear in her wide, innocent eyes. “Do not be afraid, Ellijah. I am not a kidnapper or someone who would harm you,” Leonard said, his voice steady and his face cold.Unexpectedly, Ellijah responded, albeit briefly, “Really?” Leonard nodded. She asked again, “Are you my uncle?”“Yes…” Leonard replied after a brief pause, his piercing gaze fixed on her. He extended his long, slender fingers, gently tilting Ellijah’s chin upward. “I am your father’s brother, your grandfather’s nephew. We were very close.”“Is that true?” she asked.Leonard confirmed with a faint hum before adding, “Even so, y

[Flashback – 24 years ago]Leonard pushed open the grand doors with his small hands. His thin frame, sunken eyes, and weary expression betrayed his fragile state. He dragged his feet as he walked, each step unsteady. His frail appearance would invoke pity in most people—but not in the sharp-eyed man seated at the dining table."Good morning, Leonard." The man's voice greeted him. Leonard glanced at his uncle, Frédéric Chevalier, who had just set his glass of premium milk back on the table. "Take a seat and enjoy your breakfast."Leonard never dared to raise his head when speaking to Frédéric. Whether out of fear or sheer resentment, he refused to meet the gaze of the man he held responsible for his family's downfall. Slowly, Leonard shuffled to his seat and sat down.An extravagant spread of luxurious food lay before him, but none of it stirred his appetite. His eyes scanned the table, but his hands remained still. Frédéric, noticing the boy’s hesitation, paused his own meal and studi

Leonard awoke abruptly one morning, once again shaken not by his alarm but by the recurring nightmare he so desperately wanted to end. He instinctively touched his head, checking for blood. Of course, there was none. It had only been a dream, though the pain coursing through his arms felt disturbingly real as his thin fingers pressed against his skin. He sat still for a moment, attempting to steady his labored breathing.“Leonard!”His attention snapped toward the voice. A tall, striking woman with a sultry figure strode toward him, clad in nothing but a bikini. Leonard sighed and rubbed his temple before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.It was Odette. She threw her arms around his neck the moment she reached him. “You didn’t tell me you’d be going there!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with both enthusiasm and disappointment.Odette had been thrilled when Leonard invited her to Paris, but now that they were here, she felt abandoned. He hadn’t even bothered to inform her of

The door was flung open violently and slammed shut with a deafening bang. The sound reverberated through the room, a clear indication of the occupant's unstable emotions. It wasn’t unusual for him to be so easily provoked, especially by the presence of a nephew he hadn’t seen in decades. The once-sniveling child who used to cling to his legs, begging for scraps of kindness, now stood before him, transformed into a man he could hardly recognize.“Mafia...” he muttered, his tone betraying his unease. Frederick Duval gnawed at his fingernails, unable to hide the worry etched into his weathered face. He struggled to reconcile the dangerous figure before him with the boy he discarded 24 years ago. That weak, crying child had grown into someone formidable—someone who now held the power of a ruthless Lafleur executive, a criminal syndicate infamous across Marseille.Frederick couldn’t believe the irony. He might as well start preparing for his end. Begging would be futile; after all, he had