Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 28

Chapter 28: "It’s Aren"

The Sartori estate was massive.

Not merely large by the standards of old money and powerful families, but sprawling on a scale that bordered on absurdity.

Its grounds stretched across acres of carefully maintained gardens, stone courtyards, fountains, and private woodland paths.

A newly hired servant could spend hours wandering its corridors and still find themselves hopelessly lost before reaching the main entrance again.

Aren walked calmly along one of the stone garden paths with Biscuit trotting happily ahead of her.

The little dog zigzagged between bushes with endless enthusiasm, occasionally circling back toward her legs before darting away again the moment another scent caught his attention.

Aren observed the surroundings with grave professionalism, then informed Biscuit with a serious tone.

"No abnormal activities today, Captain Biscuit!"

Biscuit glanced up at her, tongue lolling happily from his mouth as though thoroughly pleased with every word.

"Looks like we’ll have a good night’s sleep," Aren continued with a small nod. "Let’s head back, pretty boy."

The dog spun around and hurried after her at once.

Together, they made their way through the immense estate and back into the mansion itself.

Most of the household had already settled into the quiet rhythm of the evening. Only a handful of staff still moved through the distant corridors.

The silence felt peaceful.

Comfortable.

It lasted exactly until Aren stepped onto the second-floor hallway.

Suddenly...

Something stopped her cold.

A low, broken groan drifted through the silence, barely audible. More importantly, she recognized where it came from.

Her gaze snapped toward the suite directly opposite her own.

’Don Caio’s room.’

Every muscle throughout her body tightened instantly.

Ever since moving into the west wing, she and Caio rarely crossed paths except during scheduled meals or occasional work discussions.

She would be awake while he was finally collapsing into bed after work, or he would already leave before she woke. But right now, he was definitely inside.

Another groan escaped from behind the closed door.

This one sounded worse.

It was followed by ragged breathing that immediately triggered every alarm in Aren’s mind.

’His condition is unmistakably compromised.’

A sudden knot of anxiety tightened in Aren’s chest.

Without hesitation, she hurried back into her own suite and gently nudged Biscuit through the doorway, crouching to scratch behind his ears.

"I’m very sorry, Biscuit," she whispered quickly. "But I need to check on our client."

Biscuit blinked at her, unhappy and confused with the news.

"Go to sleep first," she added. "Don’t wait for me."

After quietly shutting the door behind him, Aren crossed the hallway at a near run and stopped outside Caio’s suite.

Knock, knock.

"Don Caio?" she called. "Are you okay?"

No response came. Only another strained groan from somewhere deeper within the room.

Aren knocked again, louder this time.

"Don Caio," she called. "May I come in?"

Still nothing.

Her hand immediately dropped to the handle. Twisted it. But it was locked.

’No time to hunt down a master key.’

Aren spun around and sprinted down the staircase.

Seconds later, she burst through the nearest terrace doors and into the cool night air outside.

Moonlight bathed the estate in silver, illuminating sweeping balconies and towering stone architecture.

Aren’s eyes scanned upward, then locked onto the balustrade surrounding Caio’s private terrace one level above.

She planted a foot against the stonework and launched upward. Within seconds, she reached the balcony railing and vaulted over it silently.

Fortunately, Caio had neglected to close his curtains completely. Aren approached the glass and peered through the narrow opening.

The room beyond lay almost entirely in darkness. Only faint moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, revealing the outline of a body twisted across the mattress.

Caio.

Alone.

No second person was visible anywhere in the room.

Carefully, Aren reached for the balcony handle.

It turned immediately.

’He forgot to lock it.’

Her brow furrowed.

’I’ll have to remind him tomorrow.’

Quietly, she slipped inside.

’He drank past tolerance level and mixed narcotics before sleeping.’

’Client just survived another assassination attempt.’

’Severe psychological stress reactions are normal.’

’Ah... right.’

’He doesn’t like to sleep alone.’

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify