SARAHAs I sat on the edge of the bed in Marco's room, I found it hard to pull my eyes away from him. My mind was still racing from everything that had happened earlier, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, but now, instead of focusing on the chaos of the night, all I could think about was Marco. How effortlessly cool and calm he had been when he stood up for me. He had exposed Isabella’s lies without hesitation, and for the first time in a long while, I felt protected. I watched him move from the counter to the bookshelf, his presence filling the room. Every motion was purposeful, and I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger. He looked different to me now—more than just the man I was forced to marry. He was... something else. Someone I couldn’t quite figure out. My heart beat faster, and I swallowed, suddenly aware of the way my gaze followed him.And then, he turned to me, catching me completely off guard."Why are you staring at me like that?" he asked, his voice teasing. His lips cur
MARCOI sat in my office, the air heavy with tension. The dim light from the lamp cast long shadows across the room, but my focus was entirely on the screen in front of me. Tony sat on my left, fidgeting slightly, while Petrov stood stoic on my right. The grainy footage from earlier played again, and my stomach twisted as the sound of Isabella’s voice filled the room.“Play it again,” I muttered, my hand gripping the edge of the desk.Petrov nodded, his fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard. The screen flickered, and there it was—the scene that had been gnawing at me since we discovered it. Isabella, standing in a dimly lit hallway, her voice filled with venom, speaking to someone cloaked in shadows.“Are you sure you can pull this off?” Isabella’s voice echoed through the room. “You know what to do. You take Marco and the rest of his family out, and Sarah… well,” she laughed softly, chillingly, “I’ll take care of Sarah. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”The laughter t
SARAHI woke up that morning with a strange sense of calm. It had been days since the whole ordeal with Isabella, and I had been hiding, practically invisible, ever since. I guess I needed that time to process everything. The accusations, the betrayal, the chaos. But I couldn’t stay locked away in my room forever. At some point, I had to face the house, the people, and most importantly, myself.I stared at the ceiling for a moment, taking in the quiet of the room. It had been peaceful. Too peaceful. While that peace was welcome at first, it was starting to feel like a cage. I needed to move, to be useful again. I sighed and sat up, pushing the covers off me. Today was the day. I was going to step out of my self-imposed exile and get some work done.“Okay, Sarah,” I muttered to myself, “no more hiding. You can’t be bedridden all day.”I swung my legs off the bed and stood, stretching my stiff muscles. I walked over to the wardrobe and grabbed a few clothes that needed washing. I wasn’t
MARCO The engine hummed steadily beneath me, but my blood was boiling. My hands tightened around the wheel, jaw clenched as we drove toward the docks. The night outside the window felt too quiet, too still for what had just happened. They stole from me. Again. And this time, they took more than goods. They took a good man’s life. Tony sat beside me, his face illuminated by his phone’s screen, fingers swiping as he tried to make sense of the reports coming in. He was calm—too calm for my liking. How could he be so composed when another one of our shipments had been stolen? And now… someone was dead. A man who had been loyal for years, taken out like he was nothing. It made my blood boil. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Tony, how the hell did this happen?” My voice was low but filled with a fury I couldn’t contain. “Again? First, the shipments, and now they have the guts to kill one of our men?” Tony sighed, his phone lowering to his lap as he glanced at me. “Marco, you need t
MARCOThe night was heavy with tension as I turned slowly, the sound of my full name echoing in the cold air. The moment I faced her, I saw an elderly woman, frail and trembling, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the dim streetlights. She was dressed in black, a scarf tied tightly around her head, and her hands were wringing together in front of her as if she was holding back all her grief in those hands.“Chi sei?” I asked, my voice gruff, though I could feel the weight of her sorrow before she even spoke.Tony immediately stepped forward, putting himself between us. “Marco, I’ll handle this.”I raised my hand, motioning for him to step aside. Something about the woman pulled me in. Maybe it was the tears in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she stood there, unshaken by Tony’s intimidating stance. “Lasciala parlare, Tony,” I said quietly.The woman sniffed, stepping closer. “Sono… la madre,” she said, her voice breaking. “Mio figlio… il mio Paolo… mio figlio è morto!” Her words w
MARCODanzo leaned back in my chair, that smug grin still plastered across his face. I tried to tell myself he was just messing with me. Hell, maybe it was some twisted joke, his idea of humor after everything that had gone down tonight. But even I didn’t believe that. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “Danzo, get your ass up. Now.”He didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. Just stared at me with that infuriating look like he was daring me to do something about it. The tension in the room was thick, my patience thinning with every passing second.I gritted my teeth. “I’m giving you till the count of three to get the fuck out of my seat.” My tone was flat, but the threat was clear.“One…”Still nothing. He just blinked at me, like I wasn’t even worth the effort of a response.“Two…”I felt my hand twitch, the desire to drag him out of that chair growing stronger with each breath. My day had already been shot to hell. First, the lost shipment. Then, one of my best men, Paol
MARCOMy fists pounded against the heavy bag, each strike landing with a dull thud that echoed through the gym. Sweat dripped down my forehead, my muscles burning, but I didn’t stop. The anger that churned in my chest had to go somewhere, and this was the best way I knew how to deal with it. I thought about all the people I’d lost lately. Good men. Honest men. And for what? Some power play, some twisted game of control. My knuckles ached, but the pain felt good. It reminded me that I was still here, still fighting. “Marco,” Tony’s voice cut through the sound of my fists against the bag. I glanced over at him, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.“What is it?” I asked, not really in the mood for whatever news he was about to bring me.Tony held up my phone, a serious look on his face. “It’s a call. From the Red Table.”I paused, letting the bag sway in front of me as I processed his words. The Red Table. A group of the most powerful men in the city, the heads of th
MARCOThe engine went silent as the car came to a halt, and I stepped out, taking in the sight of the venue. It was a wide, open space, not the kind of place you’d expect for a secretive meeting of the city’s top mob bosses. But that was the thing with the Red Table—they always knew how to play things close to the vest. No obvious signs of anything shady going on. Just an innocent-looking building that could have been a high-end restaurant for all anyone outside would know.I glanced over at Tony as he stepped out of the car behind me. His expression was calm, but I knew him well enough to catch the slight tension in his movements. I asked, “Petrov got eyes on the place?”Tony nodded, checking his phone. “Yeah, he’s got the perimeter covered. We’ve got men positioned in case things go sideways.”“Good.” I took a moment to scan the area again, making sure there wasn’t anything out of place. Couldn’t be too careful. These types of meetings, you never knew who was playing what angle.We
SARAHI froze mid-step, my heart skipping a beat as I nearly collided with Marco. He stood in the hallway, his broad frame filling the space, and his face was a mixture of annoyance and something else I couldn’t quite place. Relief? Concern? Either way, I smiled automatically, my nerves kicking in.“You’re back early,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt. “What’s the occasion?”Marco’s eyes narrowed slightly as he crossed his arms. “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing down here?”I blinked at him, playing innocent. “What do you mean? It’s just the kitchen.”“You know exactly what I mean, Sarah,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “If you needed something, one of the staff could’ve brought it to you. There’s no reason for you to be walking around.”I frowned, the tension in my chest flaring. “Marco, I’m pregnant, not a log of wood. I needed to stretch my legs and take a break from staring at the four corners of that room. Besides,” I added with a shrug, “I wanted t
SARAHI got out of bed, unable to stand the restless feeling that had taken over. The silence of the room felt oppressive, and just lying there made my thoughts race even more. I stretched my arms above my head, rolling my shoulders to ease some of the tension. But it wasn’t enough. My muscles still felt stiff, my mind still a mess.I glanced down at my stomach and placed a hand there, exhaling slowly. “This is all for you,” I whispered softly, a mix of frustration and warmth flooding through me. Marco’s strictness made more sense now, even if it grated on my nerves. But did he think I was some fragile doll who’d shatter if I so much as left my bed? The thought made me snort quietly.I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself.My eyes landed on the pile of clothes in the corner. Folding them wasn’t exactly exciting, but it would keep my hands busy. I moved to the pile and started sorting through it. One shirt, then another. The steady rhythm of crease, fold, stack was almo
MARCOTony leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “The past few weeks have been crazy, man. I don’t even know where to start. Feels like the hits just keep coming.”“No doubt,” I said, pouring a generous measure of whiskey into three glasses. “Danzo’s finally out of the picture, but the mess he left behind? That’s going to take time to clean up.”Tony sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “It’s not just the mess. It’s what it means, Marco. If someone like Carlos could turn on you, someone that close? What the hell are we supposed to do now? Trust anyone? Forget it.”I nodded, sliding a glass to him and one to Petrov before sitting back down. “Exactly. That’s what’s been eating at me. Carlos was like family. Hell, he was family. And he worked with Danzo to take me down. It makes you question everything.”Tony took a sip, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the amber liquid. “You’re telling me. The guy smiled in our faces, broke bread with us, laughed at all our dumb jokes… and t
SARAHMarco guided me through the front door, his hand steady on the small of my back. I paused just inside, looking around. The house felt familiar, yet somehow foreign. It was strange—like stepping into a dream you couldn’t quite remember. Everything looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Maybe it was because so much had happened since I was last here.Marco must have noticed the way I lingered, my eyes scanning the space like I was trying to recognize it. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, leaning closer. “Does it feel different?”I nodded slowly. “A little. It’s like… I’ve been gone for years instead of weeks.”He smiled at that, his hand brushing against mine. “Well, you’re home now,” he said firmly. “And I’m going to make sure it feels like home again.”As we moved further inside, the staff was already lined up in the grand hallway, their faces lighting up when they saw us. The maids, the guards, even the cook—they were all there. It was almost overwhelming.Marco stepped f
SARAHMarco hovered like a mother hen, his hand never straying far from the small of my back as we walked down the hospital hallway toward the lobby. His other hand lingered near my arm, ready to steady me even though I was perfectly capable of walking on my own.“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice lined with what I could only describe as exaggerated concern.I bit back a smile, trying not to let his overprotectiveness get to me. “I’m fine, Marco. You don’t have to keep asking.”“I do,” he replied without missing a beat. “You might not realize it, but this is a big deal. I’m not taking any chances.”I sighed, shaking my head slightly. “I’m pregnant, Marco, not dying. You need to chill.”He ignored me, his hand gently pressing against my back to guide me toward a nearby chair as we reached the lobby. “Sit down for a minute,” he said, his tone firm but still laced with that same overbearing concern.I gave him a look but complied, easing into the chair. “Happy now?”“Getting ther
SARAHIt had been a few days since I learned the news, yet it still felt surreal. Pregnant… I was pregnant—with Marco’s child. The words felt strange, even in my own mind, like they belonged to someone else. I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled mess. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would they look like him? Strong jawline, sharp eyes, and that commanding presence that made people stop and listen? Or would they take after me—quieter features, softer edges, and a personality that blended in rather than demanded attention?The thought made me smile for a moment, but it didn’t last long. My chest tightened. Marco. My joy was tied to him, and that wasn’t exactly comforting. He was overwhelming—controlling, even. Sometimes, he was impossible to predict. But then again, he was also passionate, fiercely protective. Could I trust him to be all those things for our child? Or would his darker side, the one I’d seen far too often, cast a shadow over our family?I let out a long breath, rub
MARCOI followed the doctor down the hallway, my mind spinning like a carousel of worst-case scenarios. Every step felt heavier than the last. My gut churned, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead felt like a dull roar in my ears. What did he need to tell me in private? If Sarah was stable, why couldn’t he just say it in the waiting room?The idea that something worse might be going on clawed at my brain. I couldn’t stop the flood of possibilities. What if her condition had suddenly deteriorated? What if they’d missed something? What if she wasn’t actually stable?The doctor didn’t say a word as we walked, and that silence only made it worse. I was on the edge of asking him to just spit it out, but the look on his face—calm but serious—kept me from speaking. He stopped in front of a door, opening it and motioning for me to step inside.The room was small, standard, with a desk, two chairs, and shelves lined with books and folders. The kind of place where conversations you d
MARCOThe nurse stepped in front of me as I tried to enter Sarah’s room. Her face was calm but unyielding, and I could tell this wasn’t her first time dealing with someone on the verge of losing it.“Sir, you can’t come in here,” she said, her voice firm but polite.“Move,” I barked, my chest heaving. My eyes were fixed on Sarah lying there, pale and lifeless, with wires hooked up to her like she was some machine. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might crack a rib.“Sir, I need you to step back,” she repeated, her tone sharper now. “You’re only going to get in the way.”I clenched my fists, my body halfway through the doorway. “Get in the way? That’s my wife in there! She’s unconscious, and you want me to just stand out here doing nothing?”“Sir!” The doctor’s voice cut through the tension. He strode toward me, peeling off his gloves as he approached. His face was calm, like nothing fazed him, but there was an edge of authority in his tone. “You need to stay outside.”“Sh
MARCOThe doctor motioned for me to follow him into a smaller, sterile-looking room down the hallway. I walked in without hesitation, though my body was screaming for a break. Every step felt like dragging a dead weight. My clothes clung to me, sticky with dried blood and sweat, and the sharp stings of my wounds were becoming impossible to ignore. But showing weakness? That wasn’t an option—not here, not now.“Take a seat,” the doctor said, nodding toward the examination table as he pulled on a pair of gloves. His voice was calm, unnervingly so, like he wasn’t staring at someone who looked like they’d walked out of a warzone.I sat down stiffly, rolling up my sleeves with deliberate movements. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the faint antiseptic scent of the room, making my head swim for a moment.The doctor began gathering supplies from a nearby tray, humming under his breath as though this was just another routine check-up. He grabbed a swab and turned toward me. “Let’s start