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9. MATTEO
Last Updated:
2025-05-22 15:52:08
ArchnemesisTEASER: In Chapter 10, locked in a gilded cage, Giulianna refuses to surrender—to him, to the hunger burning between them, or to the twisted illusion Matteo keeps pushing as love. But with each passing hour, her resistance frays. The tension between them is electric, dangerous, and far from over. As Matteo grows bolder and the lines blur between manipulation and obsession, Giuli is forced to face the terrifying truth: wanting him might be her greatest downfall.
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His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 117. GIULIANNA
The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains. The soft rhythm of Sofia’s breathing filled the quiet, delicate and even, like a lullaby we didn’t dare interrupt. She was curled on the far side of the bed, her tiny arm clutching the edge of her stuffed toy one that my parent's has bought her which now had a mismatched eye and all. She looked so peaceful, her chest rising and falling steadily, a small patch of gauze peeking from under her pajama sleeve.And for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to exhale.I lay on the other side of the bed the hospital provided for watchers, half-propped against the headboard, legs drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Matteo was sitting next to me, his shoulder brushing mine, the silence between us warm—not heavy.He turned his head slightly, his eyes studying Sofia the same way I had been. “She’s okay,” he whispered, as if saying it aloud might jinx it.“She’s sleeping,” I replied quiet
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 116. GIULIANNA
The night outside was still, too still. The air in our new flat was thick with the soft hum of the heater, the only sound breaking the silence aside from Sofia’s faint, steady breathing in the other room. She was recovering, slowly but surely, and tonight was the first time in weeks I felt like I could truly exhale.I stood by the bedroom window, my fingers curled around a steaming mug of chamomile tea, staring out at the distant lights of a city I barely knew. Our escape had brought us here far from the ashes of Italy and the bloodied memories of home. Here, we were ghosts trying to be human again.I felt him before I heard him. Matteo’s presence was always a quiet storm: invisible yet impossible to ignore. His hands brushed over my waist as he came up behind me, warm and grounding. I tilted my head just enough to rest against his shoulder, sighing quietly.“She’s asleep,” he whispered, his lips grazing the edge of my jaw.I nodded, feeling his breath on my skin, every nerve beneath
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 115. GIULIANNA
It was a quiet kind of miracle.The machines beeped steadily in the background, the IV line hanging like a lifeline from the hook above her bed, and Sofia, our daughter, our warrior lay there with her tiny chest rising and falling under the pale blue sheets. It had only been four days since the transplant. Four days since I last remembered how to breathe without the taste of panic on my tongue. And even now, as I sat by her side and brushed my fingers through her curls, I still found myself waiting for something to go wrong.But for the first time in what felt like forever… nothing did.Matteo stood behind me, his arms crossed, leaning against the far wall of the hospital room, but I could feel his presence like gravity. He hadn’t left this room unless someone forced him to, not even to eat properly. His face was drawn and unshaven, eyes shadowed by the sleepless nights we both endured—but when his gaze landed on Sofia, there was a softness there that gutted me.“She’s warm,” I whispe
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 114. GIULIANNA
The world slowed to a lull, like the silence after a storm that nearly claimed everything.I stood just outside Sofia’s recovery room, staring blankly at the pale blue tiles of the corridor floor, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to my nostrils like a weight I couldn’t shake off. The ticking of the wall clock felt louder than the gentle beeping from Sofia’s monitors behind the door. Each tick a reminder that time had not stopped… even if I had.Matteo was inside with her, seated on the far side of the bed, fingers brushing over the back of her hand like a prayer. He hadn’t left her side since the surgery ended. Not even once. Not to sleep. Not to eat. And somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to either.I finally gathered the courage to push the door open.The scent of antiseptic hit stronger in the room. Sofia looked smaller than ever under the hospital blankets. Her skin was pallid but her lips—God, her lips had color again. Her chest rose and fell, slower than I was used to, b
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 113. GIULIANNA
The walls of the private hospital suite were too white. Too sterile. Too silent.Even with the soft hum of the monitors and the muffled footsteps of nurses outside the door, everything felt like it was holding its breath—like the entire world paused just for her. Just for Sofia.She lay there, so small in the massive hospital bed, her chest rising and falling slowly beneath layers of sterile blankets. Her face had lost the sickly pallor, but the color hadn’t quite returned to her lips. Her dark hair was slicked back, sticking slightly to her forehead from the fever that had broken only hours ago. The oxygen tube nestled beneath her nose looked like it didn’t belong—like it didn’t deserve to mar her innocence. But it had saved her. That, and the heart beating carefully beneath her ribs.Our daughter now held a stranger’s heart in her chest. Someone else’s love. Someone else’s pain. Someone else’s sacrifice. And every beat that pushed blood through her fragile veins reminded me of every
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 112. GIULIANNA
The ticking of the clock on the sterile hospital wall was the loudest sound in the universe.Each tick drilled into my skull, measured in the shallow, ragged breaths I didn’t realize I was taking until Matteo’s hand gripped mine—his knuckles pale and tight as bone.They’d taken Sofia two hours ago.I could still feel the ghost of her little fingers clutching mine as they wheeled her away, her voice soft with sleepy confusion, not fully grasping the weight of what was happening. I had smiled at her through tears I refused to let fall, whispering promises I wasn’t even sure I had the right to make.I promised her to wake up with a stronger heart. I promised to bring her to that beach here in Portugal she couldn't stop talking about the moment we arrived here. Now the hallway outside the operating theater smelled like antiseptic and silence. Clean but cold. Hopeful but hollow. Making me doubt all my promisesI stared down at my hands—hands that had held her close, bandaged her wounds,
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