The Mafia Lord's Secret Lover-Chapter 347: His Mind Refused To Accept It

Blake moved instinctively, but shock rooted him in place for half a second.

By the time he caught her, she was already on the floor. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

He knelt beside her, his mind refusing to process the words he had just heard.

"What did you say?" Blake asked hoarsely, as if his ears had betrayed him. "Repeat it."

Rudy lowered his head slightly, his voice steady as he said, "Sir, the maid found Miss Natalie in the bathtub with a cut wrist, blood filling the tub. She was no longer breathing."

The word hit them hard.

Grace’s composure was utterly shattered. She clutched Blake’s arm with desperate strength, her nails digging into his skin.

"No. No. This is impossible," she sobbed. "How could Nat be dead? No! This has to be a lie. It must be a mistake. She was fine. She was just fine..."

Blake felt his own knees weaken.

He sank down beside his wife, holding her tightly against his chest. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud and erratic. He was never prepared to hear this. Never.

Grace lifted her tear-streaked face toward him.

"Blake, let’s go there. Right now. Let’s go see her." Her voice broke with every word. "I will not believe this unless I see her with my own eyes. This has to be a lie. It has to be..."

Blake closed his eyes for a brief moment, forcing himself to breathe.

When he opened them again, they were sharp, controlled, and burning with a fury that hid his terror.

"Prepare the car," he ordered, his voice low and deadly calm.

Rudy bowed quickly and hurried away.

Grace clung to Blake to keep herself from falling apart.

"Our baby... our Natalie..." she whispered, her tears soaking into his shirt.

Blake tightened his arms around her.

"Hold on, Grace," he murmured against her hair. "We are going to Pine Mountain. And we will find the truth."

...

The drive to Pine Mountain felt endless.

The car cut through winding roads, its headlights swallowing the darkness ahead.

Inside, no one spoke.

Grace sat rigid in the back seat, her hands clenched together so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

Blake stared out the window, jaw locked, his thoughts a violent storm he refused to show.

When the cabin finally came into view, soft yellow lights glowing against the white snow, several figures were already waiting outside.

The maid stood near the entrance, her shoulders hunched, eyes red from crying.

Beside her stood the head of security, his posture stiff with unease, and a few guards shared the same expression.

The car stopped.

Blake stepped out immediately. He did not turn back to help his wife.

His long legs carried him forward with urgency that bordered on fury.

"What the hell happened here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the cold air. "Why did my daughter suddenly do that?"

The head guard hurried after him. "Sir, we also did not know. We never come to this place unless the young miss calls us."

They entered the cabin. The warmth inside felt wrong, almost mocking, considering the dread weighing down every step.

The guard continued, following Blake up the staircase. "Only the maid enters this place regularly. She comes every two days. The young miss requested privacy. She did not want anyone bothering her."

Blake stopped at the last stair. He turned and looked down to check his wife.

Grace was being helped by the maid. Her legs felt wobbly, and she stared straight ahead, eyes wide and scared—like she knew that once she went upstairs, her life would never be the same.

Blake waited for her.

When Grace finally reached him. She drew a shaky breath.

Together, they walk into their daughter’s bedroom.

Each step felt like a countdown to disaster.

At the bathroom door, Blake paused. He took one deep breath, bracing himself for a reality he still refused to accept.

Then he pushed the door open.

Grace stepped forward first.

And her world shattered.

Natalie lay in the bathtub. The water had gone cold. Blood stained the porcelain, smeared along her arms, trailing into the drain. Her skin was pale. Her hair floated like dark ribbons around her face. Her eyes were closed. Her body was completely still.

For a moment, Grace did not breathe.

Then a broken scream tore from her throat, "Na-Natttalie..."

She rushed forward, nearly slipping on the tiled floor, reaching for her daughter as if she could warm back into her lifeless body.

"Nat... Natalie... wake up... please, baby, wake up..."

Blake caught her from behind, holding her before she collapsed into the tub.

His arms wrapped around her, but his own body trembled.

He stared at his daughter, his only daughter, lying there like a porcelain doll.

His mind refused to accept it.

Natalie. His fiery, stubborn, spoiled, laughing daughter. The girl who argued with him and always rolled her eyes at rules. Now gone.

Grace sobbed uncontrollably in his arms. "Oh, Blake, our baby... our baby..." she choked, her voice hoarse with disbelief. "Why, why did she do this...? No. This is impossible. Nat won’t do this kind of thing. This is wrong. This is wrong..."

Blake closed his eyes. He forced himself to stay standing, to stay strong, because if he fell, they would both break beyond repair.

"Take her out," he said quietly.

The head guard and maid hesitated.

"Now," Blake repeated, his tone sharp enough to slice ice.

They moved quickly, carefully lifting Natalie from the tub.

Grace reached out, touching her daughter’s cold hand, kissing her forehead again and again as if love alone could undo death.

Blake briefly looked away, watching as the blood-stained water was drained away while they moved her to the bed.

Rage burned beneath his grief. Something about this felt wrong. He didn’t believe his daughter would kill herself.

While Natalie was cleaned and wrapped, prepared to be taken back to the city, Grace remained beside her, whispering apologies and promises that came too late.

Blake stepped outside.