All Chapters of The Mafia King's Trophy: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

NadyaI don’t remember walking out of Dante’s office.One second, I’m standing there, trying to process the fact that my father is dead. That the man I spent my entire life fearing is gone. That I won’t be married off to a monster who would have killed me on our wedding night.And the next, I’m outside, my body moving on autopilot as my uncle leads me toward the sleek black SUV waiting just beyond the warehouse doors.The air is crisp, biting at my skin, but I barely feel it. My mind is too clouded, my thoughts tangled in a mess I can’t seem to unravel.Dmitri opens the door for me himself, waiting patiently as I hesitate for half a second before sliding into the backseat. He follows, settling in beside me, while Nikolai takes his usual spot across from me. The moment the door shuts, the sound is final, like a steel gate slamming into place.A part of me feels like I should be relieved.I’m free. I won’t be forced into marriage with Theo Vasilakis. I won’t be used as leverage by my fa

MarkusThe meeting room at Dmitri’s estate feels too formal, the air heavy with anticipation. I’m sitting at the end of a long mahogany table, uncomfortable as fuck in my suit. Across from me, Nadya sits quietly, her hands folded neatly on the polished surface. She hasn’t looked at me properly since we entered the room, her gaze fixed on the stack of documents in front of her like they’re some kind of enemy. Dmitri and Dante are at the head of the table, already deep in discussion, their voices low and measured. I tune them out for a moment, my attention drawn back to Nadya.Her expression is guarded, mouth set in a careful line, but I know enough about her by now to recognize the tension hidden just beneath the surface. A week of distance hasn’t changed a fucking thing about how I react to her. One glance and all the frustration from the past days bubbles right back up. I shift slightly in my seat, annoyed at myself. I hate that I even give a shit how she feels right now.Dmitri’s

Markus The bourbon burns as it slides down my throat, warming me from the inside out. I’m halfway through the bottle and it’s finally quiet in my head for once. The quiet is new, almost peaceful. I stare at the ceiling, my head swimming pleasantly. All the tension and frustration from today, from Nadya, from Dmitri and Dante—it all finally feels just a little bit distant, almost manageable. For the first time in fucking weeks, I don’t feel like I need to break something or scream until my throat bleeds. Instead, I’m just…empty. Quiet. And God, it’s a relief. My legs stretch out in front of me, boots still on, the tie I had earlier now discarded on the floor somewhere. There’s nothing else I can do now, no move left to make except drink and let it all sink in.I’m just lifting the bottle for another swallow when my bedroom door swings open, and Lukas walks in without knocking. He freezes in the doorway when he sees me slumped in the armchair, his usual cocky grin slipping a little

Markus My skull feels like someone took a jackhammer to it overnight, a dull, relentless pounding that only worsens with every step I take. Fucking bourbon. Fucking Lukas and his heartfelt confessions. Most of all, fucking me for thinking drowning my issues in alcohol was going to solve a damn thing. Now the whole mess with Nadya feels like it’s been amplified a thousand times, and I don’t even have the balls to check my phone. Not yet.The hallway to Matteo’s office is mercifully empty as I walk toward his door, but my head still throbs violently with every step. I have no idea if Matteo’s even awake yet, but I don’t care. I need someone to put me out of my misery before I have to face Nadya, before I have to deal with the fallout from last night’s confessional. Matteo’s office door is slightly ajar, and I don’t bother knocking. I push it open, stepping inside without greeting him, finding him sitting at his desk, casually flipping through papers. His eyebrows rise sharply when he

NadyaI never thought dress fittings could be fun, yet here I am, standing in front of a floor-length mirror with the Dragonetti women fussing over me like I truly belong. There’s laughter, warmth, and teasing that I don’t always understand but appreciate anyway.For once, I’m not surrounded by cold stares, calculating eyes, or the hushed whispers of men who see me as nothing more than a bargaining chip. Instead, I hear soft murmurs about fabric choices, feel gentle hands smoothing the silk over my frame, and catch playful nudges about honeymoon plans.Serena and Amara take every opportunity to tease me, their easy smiles coaxing small, reluctant laughs from my lips.“I think lace,” Serena says, lifting a delicate ivory fabric and holding it up to my skin. “It brings out your eyes. And the way the silk moves when you walk? Markus will lose his mind.” She smirks, her voice filled with mischief.My face heats at the mention of his name, and I look away quickly, my throat suddenly dry.A