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CHAPTER TEN: THE KISS

Author: Bara
last update publish date: 2026-07-02 00:02:43

Lena’s pov

The rest of the party blurred past, but not in a good way.

After the garden, Enzo vanished. No scene, no explanation. One minute he was bleeding on the gravel, the next the Moretti guards were dragging him toward the gate. No one asked questions. No one had to.

The music kept playing for a while, but it felt hollow. Guests started leaving in small groups. Car doors. Muffled voices. The clink of glasses being cleared away. The house got quieter with every exit until the la
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  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE: JEALOUSY JEALOUSY

    LENA’S POV I stretch, waking up to the nothingness that fills the guest room. The dull gray of early morning is pushing through the thin curtains of the guest room. My eyes are swollen from lack of sleep last night. My mind has been occupied with thoughts of my conversation with Dante. His mouth on mine in the rain, like he’d been waiting all day to touch me and couldn’t hold back anymore. I groan and press the heels of my palms into my eyes. Stupid. Stupid. I can't believe I kissed him back after everything. The only silver lining is that I didn't sleep in his bed. And thank God for that, because if I’d woken up next to him I don’t know what I would’ve done. I sit up slowly, detangling the sheets around my legs. I drag myself out of bed and my legs feel like lead. I pull on a robe, splash water on my face, and try to make myself look like I didn't just fall apart But firstly I need to check on my mother and brother to see how they sle

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER EIGHTY FOUR: REBUILDING

    LENA’S POV I sit in the quiet garden, just watching birds fly across the gray sky, and enjoying the smell of rain coming in on the wind. I lean on the stone bench by the fountain. It reminds me of the one I used to have in my father's house growing up. He used to bring me to it when I was ten and scraped my knee. He’d tell me to watch the water and breathe. “Problems look smaller when you’re not screaming at them, Principessa.” I just wish he was here. I fold my hands in my lap but they won’t stop shaking. My head is full of Marco’s words and the guilt of watching my father's house burn. I feel like I’m drowning and everyone’s watching to see if I swim. “Please,” I whisper. “God, please, I can’t do this on my own. Everything is falling apart and I don’t know how to fix it. I just… I just need help.” The words turn into a sob before I can stop them. I cover my face with both hands and it all comes out. The weight of all the e

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE: THE PLAN

    LENA’S POV The word hangs in the air between us. *Step down.* My mother’s face goes blank for half a second. Then it crumples like I just told her I was dying. “No,” she breathes. Her hands come up to my arms, gripping me tight. “No, Lena. You can’t, you can’t just quit.” Her voice sounds so tender and warm, that I almost believe she cares. “It’s okay,” I say. “It’s what’s best for the family. I can’t keep putting everyone including myself in constant danger.” She shakes her head, “Baby, I don’t want you to make a hasty decision, not when you’re upset…” “Oh mom just let her,” Marco cuts in. “She should’ve done this a long time ago,” He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his sling. He looks at me with anger in his eyes. “You should’ve stepped down before it resulted to all this,” he says flatly. “Before you made us look weak and dragged our family name through the mud all because you wanted to be important.” His words sting so much because they a

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO: STEPPING DOWN

    LENA’S POV The picture of my father’s house burning shatters my world. The house he taught me how to read in, the house I played tag in, the house that held the last memories of my father. Gone. My hand starts shaking. “This is my fault,” I whisper. Dante moves fast and plucks the phone from my hand before I can even process it. “Don’t look at it,” he says, I look away from him, if I do I’ll fall apart right here on the driveway. “This wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t Don,” I say. The words taste like bile. “The Commission must have done this.” “Hey.” Dante’s hand comes under my chin. He forces me to look at him. “Breathe.” “Don’t tell me to breathe!” I jerk away. “My family’s house is burnt to the ground. Because I wanted to fulfill some stupid last wish.” “Stop.” His voice cuts through me. “This is not your fault.” “Then whose is it?” I laugh, and it sounds hysterical even to me.

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE: REUNION

    LENA’S POV The car door slams and Dante floors it before I even have my seatbelt on. I’m shaking and it feels like my bones are trying to crawl out of my skin. “God. God please. God, please don’t let them…” “Hey.” Dante’s hand comes across the console. “Breathe, Lena.” I jerk away from him. “Don’t touch me,” I manage to say through my sobs. All I can think about is how distant I’ve been from my family. I’ve avoided my mom for weeks even though she’s tried to fix our relationship. I even chose him over her, over the woman who birthed me. God, I’m so stupid. I should’ve looked past her mistakes and just forgiven. “Fuck,” I choke. “I said I didn’t need her anymore.” Tears are pouring now and I can’t stop them. “What if I never get to see her again?” “You will,” Dante says, “They’re okay. Ricardo said crews got there fast.” “You don’t know that!” I yell. “You don’t know anything! You weren’t there! You don’t get to tell me it’ll be okay!” His hands grip the w

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER EIGHTY: NEW CRISIS

    LENA’S POV The air in the study is thick. Dante and I just stand there, staring at each other. His jaw is clenched, and his hands are fisted at his sides like he’s holding himself back from either touching me or punching the wall. I decide to break the silence first. “Is Diego the child you and Camila were talking about?” His eyes flicker across the room. “Yes.” He tries to take a step forward. "Lena, let me……… " "Don't." I cut him off. "You brought your son into this house, into my house. And you didn't tell me, you let me think his parents were dead.” "Lena . …" "And you made him lie about it." The words tear out of me. "What type of father does that to his thirteen year old son,” He drags a hand through his hair and I can see the exhaustion in his eyes. “I knew it was wrong,” he says. “I knew the second I brought him in and made him lie. I just didn’t know how you’d react to the truth.” “Well, congratulations,” I laugh, “Now you know how I w

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