Todos os capítulos de TRAPPED BY THE MAFIA: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Matteo's PovWe spend a few more hours at the hospital, breezing in and out of one observation room to another. And in all the hours we spend at the hospital, all my wife does is talk my ears off about how upset she is with me for not disclosing the details of the surprise I have for her.I love the woman, but she can be infuriating and wearisome when she wants to be.After the checkup, I dismiss my men to head back to the estate, seeing how I’d like to enjoy a more private time with my wife without those brooding men hovering over us like some spy birds.I open the passenger’s side for her to get in, bowing my head like her very own private chauffeur. That’s exactly what I am, putting in consideration how many rides I’ve taken her on.Get your mind out of the gutters, Matteo Denaro.When I get into the driver’s side, my mouth part for words, but Mirabella put her hand up, stopping me from speaking even before I get the chance. “If whatever you intend to say has nothing to do with you

Mirabella's PovMonths later.I'm huddled in the kitchen with my husband, whispering and giggling like conspirators. We're planning a surprise party for our twins, Mariano and Mariana.A party to celebrate their sixth birthday.It’s been months since my children turned six, but I was skeptical about throwing a party for them for several reasons.First, my son doesn’t exactly like being surrounded by lots of people. He in-fact only enjoys the company of his sister and I do not wish to trigger him by forcing him out of his natural habitat.Secondly, our worst enemy, my father, was roaming free and devising several means to harm my family. I didn’t want to have us all in one place where he could easily hurt us.Now, he’s dead; hence, we’re throwing an intimate party for the kids."Okay, so we've got the cake, the decorations, and the games," I say, ticking off each item on my list. "What about the guest list?"Matteo replies, "Just family and close friends. We want to keep it intimate."

Mirabella's PovMonths later.I stand by the glass window, a beautiful smile etched to my face as I watch my husband and children interact in such a soul touching manner.After the events at the twins' birthday months ago, Matteo and I made a decision to move to Rome for a little while in order for us to give our full focus to our growing children.The house he purchased for us here in Rome is elegant, modern, small, and intimate. We decided to go for something smaller because we wanted a place that allows us to be closer to our kids, not a house that keeps us so far apart from one another.Matteo is chasing the children around the garden and they’re both laughing out their lungs as they tease him.My heart warms with a smile, my hands cradling my now huge bump.As though he notices my eyes on him, he stops chasing the kids and looks up at me. He waves at me, his face beaming with a smile. I chuckle and blow kisses at him.He grabs his chest, acting like someone shot with a love arrow

Mirabella's PovIn my younger days, my mother made it a point to make me feel like a princess. She’d dress me up, doll me up, making sure I felt as content, beautiful, seen, and happy as possible.“You’re a princess, my love, and all princesses always have their wish granted to them. All you have to do when you want something is to wish upon it and it’ll all be yours. You deserve all the best life has to offer,” she’d say.I didn’t believe her.And the tragic events of my life were enough reasons not to believe her.But today, as I stand by the grand door of the St. Peter’s Basilica Rome, with my daughter by the right side of me, and my son by the left side of me, both of them holding my hands and ready to lead me down the aisle where I’ll once again exchange my vows with their father, this time in truth and from the depth of my heart, I now have an understanding of what my mother used to say to me.As my husband comes into view, holding our eight month old babbling daughter to his ch

Mariana's PovMy life is fucked.There’s a certainty that the devil is clapping and laughing in pride, rejoicing over what I’ve become—a slave to his evilness.It’s laughable how I’m supposed to be in control of my life, yet, I’ve opened myself up to the dirtiness and suffering of humanity, pushing my body to a point of eruption with self destruction.The heel of my boots knock against the tiled floor, the sound bouncing off the walls in echoes. I leisurely stride into the large living room of my parent’s manor with a bottle of scotch in one hand, and in another, between my index and middle finger, a joint.My parents took up half of the estate, building their manor and I sometimes wonder what they do with such a large space when it’s just the two of them. A few helps included.“Where are they?” I ask the maid who comes to usher me in. But instead of giving me an immediate answer, she takes her time, judging my outfit, her disgust laced eyes roaming my barely covered body from head to