All Chapters of Owned By The Mafia Lord: Chapter 431 - Chapter 440

MARCOThe hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic mixed with the bitter scent of coffee that had been sitting too long on a burner. The hum of fluorescent lights pressed against the silence, and somewhere far down the corridor a phone rang once and then stopped. I stood against the wall outside Tony’s room with my arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor tiles. They were polished but dull, their faded shine catching the faint reflection of my shoes.Two days had passed since we pulled him out of that mess, but the quiet in this place felt heavier than the chaos that night. Here, the danger was not shouting in your face. It was slow, patient, and still.Footsteps came from the far end of the hall. They were steady, confident, the sound of someone who knew exactly where they were going. The doctor stopped in front of me, holding a clipboard in one hand. His glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose, and there was a deep crease between his brows from too many hours without rest.“Mr.

MARCOThe house was quiet when I walked in. Too quiet. The kind of silence that told me she was waiting. I loosened my tie as I stepped into the living room. Sarah was there, sitting on the couch with a book in her lap, but she was not reading. Her eyes lifted the second she heard my steps.I set my jacket on the armrest and lowered myself beside her. She shifted the book aside, her body turning toward me, but her face carried that look I knew. Calm on the outside, but sharp inside.“You came back late,” she said. Her voice was even, but her eyes searched mine.“I had things to settle,” I told her. My tone was flat, controlled. I let out a slow breath and leaned back, watching her. “I need to talk to you about something.”She didn’t answer right away. She just waited. That was her way of telling me to get to the point.“The Delphini deal,” I said. “It’s been moved forward. Three days from now, I’ll be in Seattle. It’s a three-day trip.”She blinked, her brows pinching slightly. “Three

MARCOThe jet touched down smooth, the kind of landing that barely jolted the cabin. I looked out the window and saw gray skies stretching over Seattle. The air looked heavy, damp. Business city. It didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t here for the view.When we rolled to a stop, I stood, buttoned my jacket, and took my bag. Sofia was already brushing her hair back, checking her reflection in the small mirror by her seat. She carried herself like the world had been waiting for her to arrive.We stepped down the stairs into the cool air. On the tarmac, two sleek black cars waited. A group of men in dark coats stood by, their hands folded, eyes sharp but respectful.“Welcome to Seattle, Mr. De Luca,” one of them said, stepping forward. His handshake was solid, his tone careful.I gave him a short nod. Sofia smiled brighter, sliding into the moment with ease. “Always a pleasure,” she said like she’d known them forever. It was rehearsed, smooth.Then I saw him.Lorenzo Delphini. Older than me by

MARCOThe suite was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside the window and the sound of papers shifting on the table. I sat with my jacket off, sleeves rolled up, pen in hand, eyes on the numbers in front of me. Everything had to be perfect for tomorrow. No distractions. No mistakes.Sofia sat across from me, but she never stayed still for long. She leaned closer with each explanation, her perfume heavy in the air. Her hand brushed mine when she pointed at a figure. I didn’t flinch, just moved the paper toward my side.“See?” she said, her voice calm but smooth. “If we present it this way, they’ll trust the numbers more. Don’t you think?”“It’s fine,” I said, my eyes on the chart. “Keep it straight. No need for theatrics.”She smiled like she hadn’t heard the coldness in my tone. She shifted in her chair, her leg crossing slowly, drawing attention without trying too hard.“Sometimes theatrics help,” she said lightly. “A little charm, a little push, it doesn’t hurt. You’ve se

MARCOThe estate rose like a fortress over the city, high walls guarding a kingdom built on silence and power. By the time our car rolled to the front, the driveway was alive with black cars, headlights cutting against stone, guards posted at every angle. Their eyes didn’t wander—they tracked every move like hunters waiting for a slip.I stepped out first, jacket sharp, tie in place. My shoes hit the ground steady. Sofia came out behind me, her heels clicking a rhythm that drew eyes before the shine of her dress did. She knew what she was doing.Lorenzo Delphini stood near the entrance, his sons just behind him. They didn’t move unless he did. His smile was wide, but his stare was made to test. His handshake had weight, the kind that reminded you this man could call your fate in a single word.“De Luca,” he said, his voice low, rough with years of smoke and deals. “Yesterday you gave us numbers. Tonight, we test presence. Numbers fade. Presence lasts.”I held his grip firm, met his ey