All Chapters of The Mafia Widow's Revenge : Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

DELUCA When we returned in the limousine, there was a heavy silence hanging between us, thick enough to be cut with a knife. No one said a word as we pulled up outside the resort. Lucas got out first, retrieving our belongings—mostly the essentials we couldn’t afford to lose. Important documents, encrypted devices, and the bag that held what was left of our evidence.Once everything was secured, we drove straight to the private airstrip on the outskirts of the island. My jet was already waiting on the tarmac, engines humming low like it sensed the urgency in our steps. I had called for it before we even found Elena, anticipating we might need a quick exit.Now, seeing it there, I allowed myself a brief breath of relief. We were leaving that cursed place behind.During the flight back, the cabin was eerily quiet.Lucas sprawled out across a reclined seat and was snoring within minutes—completely knocked out. The exhaustion had hit him hard.Elena sat across from me, her arms wrapped p

DELUCAI didn’t know what came over me.Maybe it was the heat of the moment.Maybe it was the weeks of pent-up frustration and the way she looked at me like I wasn’t beyond saving.Maybe it was the sound of her breath hitching just before my lips crashed into hers.The moment her lips met mine, everything stopped.She tasted like fire and pain and something I couldn’t name—but needed. God, I needed it more than I’d realized. I kissed her like she was the answer and the problem at once. Like if I held her too tight, she’d break... but if I let go, I’d be the one shattered.Her hands gripped the front of my shirt, tugging me closer. I could feel the beat of her heart against my chest, frantic, desperate—just like mine. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was real. And it told me more than either of us had dared to say.When we pulled apart, it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t stop.Her breath was shaky, her lips kiss-bitten, and her eyes—hell—her eyes

ELENAThis morning, I was in unusually high spirits. For once, the sun streaming through the kitchen windows didn’t feel like a harsh reminder of everything I’d lost—but a soft promise of something lighter.Sarah had been the one taking care of the boy I brought back. She had a gentle way with him, the kind that made me wonder if maybe... just maybe, he’d be better off somewhere more stable. Perhaps I should consider sending him to Francisco’s orphanage. It might be good for him—to be around other kids, to learn, laugh, and just be a child again.I pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the sizzling sound of pancakes browning on the stove and the melody of one of my favorite songs playing faintly from my MP3 player on the counter.I checked the last batch of pancakes and smiled, glad breakfast would be ready before Sarah and the boy woke up.“Jeez!” I yelped, nearly dropping the plate in my hand when I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder.Spinning around, I saw Sarah standing behi

ELENA Mr. Leo drove us to La Belle Luxe, one of the most iconic boutiques in all of Chicago. Sleek windows, golden trims, and high-end displays. It screamed class, and if you asked me, Sarah had impeccable taste. I found myself silently impressed, lips twitching in amusement as I stared out the tinted windows."I promised Sarah I'd spend the day with her and the kid," I reminded myself aloud, although my thoughts stubbornly drifted back to the casino. The way things were moving behind the scenes—too many moving pieces and too many secrets buried in stone walls—I hated being away from it all for too long.The boy sat between us, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His small fingers tugged at the fabric like it had answers. I glanced down, unsure if I made him nervous... or if it was Sarah. I couldn’t blame him, though. He had seen too much. He’d been right there when DeLuca made an example out of Dain Saint, the cold brutality of it all still fresh in my memory.What had Dain done to

ELENA The casino lights shimmered like stars trapped beneath a glass ceiling—blinding, dizzying, and cold.I stepped through the entrance, the sound of slot machines clashing with murmured conversations and distant jazz. My heels clicked with quiet authority across the marble floor. I hadn’t come here to gamble.I owned the place.My dress clung to my figure like a second skin—midnight blue, long-sleeved, with a slit daring enough to draw eyes but not approval. I didn’t need approval. I needed presence. And tonight, I intended to make mine felt.The boss lady was back.Then I saw him.Dante.Reclined like a king in exile at the edge of the lounge, a cigar in one hand and arrogance in his eyes. He hadn’t changed. Same smug smirk. Same air of entitlement. As if the blood on his hands had dried into dust and disappeared.I walked toward him with slow, deliberate steps, every part of me poised to strike.“What the hell are you doing here, Dante?” I asked, my voice sharp and cold like gla