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Chapter 9: "Don't let your mask slip."
Last Updated:
2025-12-06 18:17:11
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The Mafia ex wife's revenge Chapter 9: "Don't let your mask slip."
Chapter 9: "Don't let your mask slip."The night air felt cool against my skin as I stood on the balcony, staring out into the darkness the way someone might stare into a mirror, quiet, uncertain, and full of questions I didn’t want answers to.The wind brushed past me in soft, restless waves, teasing the loose strands of my hair and carrying the scent of the garden below. It danced around me gently, as if trying to calm the storm brewing in my chest. I lifted the glass of wine to my lips, Dante’s favourite wine, the same I had ordered at the party, and let the taste linger there longer than necessary.I shouldn’t have been thinking about him.But I was. Or maybe I should, and it should be how to destroy him.I hadn’t expected the effect he would have on me at the party. One look from him and the carefully built walls I had spent the past six months constructing had trembled—just a little, but enough for me to notice. His eyes had locked with mine, and for a heartbeat, I had forgotte
The Mafia ex wife's revenge Chapter 8: Haunting thoughts.
Chapter 8: Haunting thoughts.Dante's POV I stood by the window again.It had become a habit I never consciously formed, yet one I never broke. The city stretched beneath me, endless streets, fading headlights, the slow pulse of the night. But none of it settled the restlessness twisting inside my chest. I lifted the glass of wine to my lips, the same vintage Sierra had been drinking at the party. My favourite. For a split second, just for a fleeting one, I had thought she reminded me of Elena. Hell, she could have been Elena. I let out a bitter laughter.My fingers tightened around the stem of the glass.It had been two years.Two whole years, and the nights had not grown any easier.I turned away from the window and walked toward my desk. The drawer resisted at first—as if even it wanted to keep the past buried, but it slid open with a low scrape. I reached inside and pulled out the small photograph I could never bring myself to destroy.Elena and I, standing on the balcony of the
The Mafia ex wife's revenge Chapter 7: The little heiress
Chapter 7: The little heiress Viviana's POV The drive home was painfully quiet. Raw anger from the event still lingered somewhere within.Dante was sitted beside me in the car, staring out the window the whole time, his eyes stayed locked on nothing, his mind clearly far away. I kept my gaze on the dark road, but every few seconds, my eyes slid toward him. He didn’t blink much. He just kept his head straight ahead. This wasn't a good sign. He was thinking about her.I didn’t need anyone to tell me that.My jaw tightened. The last time I had seen Dante have this reaction over a woman was two years ago. Elena, she has been taken out of the way.The scene from the ballroom kept playing in my mind like a broken film reel. The moment Sierra De Luca walked into that ballroom, Dante’s attention snapped to her like a magnet. I saw it right away, I noticed The way his eyes widened a little. The way he froze. I didn't know what it was, big something definitely flickered.Then he sneakily lef
The Mafia ex wife's revenge Chapter 6: "Have we met before?"
Chapter 7: I watched as Viviana’s hand slowly wrapped around Dante’s arm securely, almost like she was staking a claim, like she was marking her territory, sending a direct warning to me to stay away from her property, something she stole from me.I gritted my teeth, but maintained a smile.She leaned close to him with a warm, practiced smile. I understood it clearly, I understood everything, and if gnawed at my insides.“I don’t think we’ve met, have we?” she asked, her voice smooth.I straightened in my seat and cleared my throat, trying to keep my expression calm even though anger was crawling under my skin. My fists tightened under the counter where she couldn’t see them.“We haven’t, Viviana,” I replied. “At least not officially.”She gave another smile, a wide but empty smile.“I’m Viviana,” she said, extending her hand. “Dante’s partner.” She had a malicious grin on her face, the same one she had when she pushed me from the balcony two years ago.The word partner, the thought
The Mafia ex wife's revenge Chapter 5: Facing him..... Again!
Chapter 5: Facing him..... Again!Viktor De Luca's soft touch at the tip of my fingers pulled me back to reality. I blinked and straightened, reminding myself—again that I was Sierra De Luca now. I wasn’t Elena tonight. I could never be her again, not after everything. I forced the ghost of her away and lifted my chin, straightening up my back and maintaining the composure I imagined sierra De Luca must have had when she was alive.I looked away from Dante and walked toward the red carpet beside my father. After a few steps, after all the formalities for the camera and the blinding flashes, he left my side, already shaking hands with men in tailored suits and practiced smiles. In my head, his voice echoed—the same words he had drilled into me for the last six months.“You are my heir now. You need to look like it. Own every room you walk into. There must not be a single sign of weakness in you when you face them.""Them" included Dante, it included Viviana, whom I now sought for with
The Mafia ex wife's revenge Chapter 4: The eyes that remember.
Chapter 4: The eyes that remember.Elena’s POVThe mirror had become both a friend and a stranger.I stood before it now, dressed in obsidian silk that draped over my curves like spilled ink, the low back revealing pale skin I still hadn’t accepted as mine. My hair—long, black, and impossibly smooth—had been curled into soft waves, pinned to one side with diamond clips. The woman staring back looked elegant. Lethal. Untouchable.Sierra De Luca.And yet… not.I tilted my head, studying the way the light hit my cheekbones. Even after three months, it still startled me sometimes. The reflection didn’t blink with my old warmth. Her eyes—my eyes—were colder, sharper. Her body more refined, more poised, trained in the art of danger and seduction.But no matter how many gowns I wore, no matter how many times Viktor reminded me of who I was now, I still occasionally reached for Elena Moretti in the mirror.Sometimes I’d catch myself lifting a hand and freeze midway, staring at the long, slend
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