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Mafia King’s Regret: Winning Rebellious Bride Back 111
The guards stepped back at her nod, their hands loosening the ropes from Roman’s wrists. Vera didn’t look at them her focus was only on him. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded document. She placed it on the table between them, and a pen rolled to the edge.“Sign it… and you’ll set me free,”Roman’s eyes dropped to the words—Divorce Agreement. The muscles in his jaw flexed, but he didn’t speak. His fingers, trembling from pain and exhaustion, reached for the pen. Vera’s breath caught as she watched him. She told herself this was what needed to be done—that this was mercy. And yet, her heart hammered against her ribs as if it knew she was lying to herself. He didn’t rush, as though the seconds before his signature were the last he could hold on to her.Then, with a sharp stroke, his name bled across the paper. Vera’s vision blurred. She stepped back, clutching her hands together so tightly her nails dug into her skin. Roman looked up at her, his gaze steady despite
Mafia King’s Regret: Winning Rebellious Bride Back 110
Roman’s eyes opened slowly, as if his lids weighed a hundred pounds each. His vision blurred at first, the shadows around him swimming into focus. His left eye was swollen shut, a dull throbbing radiating through his skull. His lower lip was split and bleeding, the metallic taste thick on his tongue.His wrists ached where the rope bit deep into raw skin, and his hands were tied so tight he could barely feel his fingers except for the searing sting where fingernails had been ripped out. Pain became another definition of his body, but not his thoughts. They were still hanging only for one word, one person- VeraHis clothes hung in tatters, soaked in sweat, dirt, and blood. The sound came next—creak… The dungeon door swung open, and light from the corridor spilled across the floor. Roman’s head felt heavy, but he forced himself to turn toward it. His neck protested, every movement sharp, but he flicked his one good eye toward the sound. Viktor stepped in, his presence filling the space.
Mafia King’s Regret: Winning Rebellious Bride Back 109
Vera’s eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. Roman stood so close she could feel the heat radiating from him, one hand still cupping her mouth. She didn’t even try to pull it away. Her body was frozen—not from his grip, but from shock. She had never expected him here, in this room, in this moment.Then a thought hit her like a blow. If Viktor saw him—if he so much as caught a glimpse—he wouldn’t just throw Roman out. He’d kill him. Viktor had already promised as much. The punishment would be merciless.Roman must have read something in her eyes, because his own softened. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his hand dropped from her lips. His gaze didn’t waver. He drank her in as though he hadn’t seen her in years.“Vera…” he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue, and before she could form a single word, his lips were on hers. It wasn’t tentative. It was desperate, hungry. His mouth claimed hers like a man who’d been starved, and she felt herself pulled into the heat of him. His a
Mafia King’s Regret: Winning Rebellious Bride Back 108
Vera stood in front of the tall mirror, her hands resting lightly at her sides. The gown she wore was a deep midnight blue, smooth and soft, shine under the light. It hugged her figure gently before flowing down to the floor, swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. The neckline framed her collarbones in a neat, elegant way, and her hair was pinned up, a few loose strands falling around her face. She looked every bit the part of a woman who belonged here, though inside, she didn’t feel that way at all. Leila was leaning against the vanity behind her, watching with a smile. “You look beautiful,” she said warmly as she fixed the hair pin. Vera glanced at her reflection again, almost as if she was searching for proof in her own eyes. “I don’t know, Leila… I feel like I’m somewhere I don’t belong. Like I’m living someone else’s life.” Leila stepped forward, her reflection joining Vera’s in the mirror. “It’s all new for you,” she said, “You’ve been through a lot, and it’s going to ta
Mafia King’s Regret: Winning Rebellious Bride Back 107
“It all started,” he said slowly, “When your father, Domenico Benedetti, and I were friends. Or… should I say, I was his closest ally.”Marco’s gaze drifted for a moment, as if the memory itself was too vivid, too sharp to look at directly. “We built more than business together—we built trust. In a world like ours, that was rarer than gold.”Then, his eyes locked on Roman’s, holding him there. “Domenico and I… we became more than partners in this life. We became family, in our own way. I got married. Not long after, Domenico found his wife.” The words carried a faint smile, touched with something almost wistful, but it vanished quickly. “The years passed. He tried—God knows he tried—to have a child. But every time… something happened. Something unfortunate. And each time, he lost the baby.” Marco’s voice lowered, softer, as if saying the next part pulled at something deep inside him. “My wife… she and I were blessed. We had five children. At the time my wife was pregnant with our y
Mafia King’s Regret: Winning Rebellious Bride Back 106
The flight to Italy had been a blur of restless thoughts and half-formed memories. Roman hadn’t slept; he hadn’t even bothered with the food or the drinks the attendants offered. Every minute that passed only drew him closer to a man he had spent years hating, a man whose name had been a curse in his household.When the car finally slowed, pulling into a quiet street lined with olive trees, Roman was almost taken aback by the sight before him. No iron gates. No armed guards. No grand mansion hidden behind high walls. Just a modest two-story house with a pale stucco exterior and green shutters weathered by time.As the driver eased to a stop, Roman stepped out into the warm Italian air. The hum of a lawn mower filled the space, blending with the chirping of distant birds. His gaze shifted—and there he was.Marco Ivankov.He was not the looming, dangerous figure Roman had carried in his mind for years. He was just an old man in worn boots and a faded shirt, pushing a mower across the pa
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