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CHAPTER 89:The Child I Cannot Bear
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2025-09-24 01:16:43
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Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 101:The Cold Eyes of Matteo
LOLAThe door slammed behind me before I even caught my breath. The sound echoed in the cavernous darkness, sharp and final like a gunshot. My bare feet scraped against the cold marble floor as I stumbled forward. The room felt alive, like it was breathing with me dark, heavy, suffocating. Every inch of it whispered danger. The bed stood in the middle like an altar, its black silk sheets rippling faintly under the low amber glow. Metal cuffs dangled from hooks, gleaming like predators’ teeth. Chains swayed softly from the ceiling, and the faint smell of leather and sweat clung to the air.My stomach lurched. My heart beat so hard it rattled my ribs. This wasn’t just a room. It was a trap.What the hell is Matteo thinking?This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t make me his toy his pet.The door clicked open. A small sound, but it cut through the room like a blade. My breath locked in my chest. He stepped inside slowly, his frame blocking the light from the hall. One step, then anothe
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 100:His Dangerous Claim
LOLAFour days. That’s how long it’s been since we landed in New York, yet I haven’t caught so much as a glimpse of Matteo.Not that I’m complaining. The last time I saw him was in Paris the night he tore me from my brother’s arms like I was some prize he’d won. That memory still burns, jagged and raw.Since then, I’ve been hidden away here. “Kept” feels too kind, like a word someone uses to dress up cruelty. This isn’t a home; it’s a cage wearing a room’s skin. The wallpaper peels like old wounds, curling and cracking at the edges. The bed sags in the middle, its thin mattress rubbing my back raw when I try to sleep. Even the clock on the wall has teeth its steady tick-tick-tick biting into my skull, a metronome counting down my captivity.I press my forehead to the windowpane. The glass is so cold it feels like it’s leeching heat straight out of my skull. Tiny beads of condensation collect where my breath hits and disappear as quickly as my hope. From this angle, I can see fragment
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 99:Two Minutes to Surrender
MATTEOMy finger curled around the trigger, steady, unshaken. The silence between us stretched, taut like a wire ready to snap. I leaned forward, my voice smooth, velvet with an edge of steel.“What if I say no?”His jaw tightened. “This is my domain, Matteo. Your men are few. You’re nothing here.”I smiled slow, deliberate, a devil’s grin carved across my face. “Do you really think I come unprepared?”The color drained from his face as I stepped closer, the muzzle of my gun grazing the air between us. Our eyes locked his blazing with fury, mine with amusement. Anger might fuel him, but me? I thrived on it.Betrayal burned in my veins. He had chosen my elder brother over me. My dead brother. How dare he? Let him see if the grave will rise to save him tonight.“What do you mean?” he demanded, suspicion cracking through his voice.I tilted my head, savoring the moment. “Do you really want to know?” I whispered. “Because I already do.”“Spit it out, Matteo!” His tone rose, desperate.I
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 98:Nowhere to Run
RICARDOSomething had been gnawing at me ever since the night I tore my sister from that monster’s hands. The feeling was like a shadow that refused to leave, curling at the back of my mind. I couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard I tried.A few days ago, I called one of my men in New York to dig into Damian’s whereabouts. The report came back short, sharp, and impossible.“Damian is dead.”I froze when the words replayed in my mind. No. It didn’t make sense. Damian couldn’t just vanish into death. But if it was true… then Matteo would take the throne. And if Matteo took over, he would come for me.The thought slammed through me like a blade. My fist came down hard on the mahogany table, rattling the glass ashtray at the edge. “Fuck!”I didn’t waste another second. I grabbed my phone and barked into it, “Bring Lola to my office now. Make sure my strongest men are with her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”My sister was the only soft spot I had left, and Matteo know it. I couldn’t let
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 97:Inheritance of Power
ISABELLA“You don’t have a choice, Isa.” His voice is quiet but sharp enough to cut. His eyes flat, metallic lock onto mine, holding me there like a pinned insect. “You have to start again. That child is Damian’s. I won’t let it stay.”The air in the study feels heavy, like it’s closing in on me. My throat tightens, the burn of unshed tears rising behind my eyes. I press a trembling hand over my belly, as though I could shield the life inside with nothing but my palm. “But it’s also my child,” I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of it. “Your younger sister’s child. Please, brother… let my child be.”He drags a hand through his hair, a gesture that used to mean worry when we were children but now feels like a blade being drawn. He begins to pace the room. The smell of polished wood and old paper hangs in the air; every echo of his footstep thuds like a gavel, each turn at the far end of the room another silent verdict.“Isabella,” he says finally. His voice softens, but the i
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 96:When Blood Chooses for You
VINCENTI don’t sleep. The study smells of old paper and cold coffee; the city outside is a smear of neon and rain. I sit at the desk until my hand cramps, watching the door more out of habit than hope. Maria was supposed to be quick efficient. She’s the one I shaped: precise, hard, trained to disappear and reappear with answers.The door opens like a promise breaking.Light slices the room and her shape steps through all angles and practiced calm until she folds. Maria drops to one knee so fast it looks rehearsed; her forehead hovers a breath away from the carpet. Her palms come together at chest height, not in prayer so much as in the last motion of someone trying to gather courage from air. A sliver of steel peeks from under her boot; the lamplight kisses it and goes cold. She does not touch it. She never gives me that show of panic except tonight her shoulders slump in a way that makes her look younger, thinner, like the steel in her spine has been loosened.“Boss,” she says. Th
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