The Mafia King's Trophy のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

AmaraThe morning is unusually peaceful. Sienna and I sit in the front garden, the sun warm on our skin, a gentle breeze rustling the flowers. She’s been telling me stories about Matteo as a child, her laughter infectious as she recalls his stubbornness and his knack for mischief even at a young age.“You mean to tell me Matteo locked a tutor in a closet because he didn’t like their voice?” I ask, struggling to contain my laughter.Sienna grins, her eyes alight with mischief. “Oh, it wasn’t just their voice. The poor man also insisted on calling him ‘Matt.’ You can imagine how well that went over.”I burst into laughter, the sound ringing out in the quiet of the garden. It feels good—too good, almost.“And what did Dante do when he found out?” I ask, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.Her grin softens into something more wistful. “Oh, Dante was furious. But secretly? I think he was proud. Matteo’s always had a way of making his opinions known.”I smile, shaking my head as I try

TW: Sexual AssaultMatteoThe Cerulli estate looms in the darkness ahead, its gates high and menacing, flanked by guards who don’t yet realize tonight is their last shift. My pulse is steady, my breathing controlled. The storm that should be raging inside me is strangely absent. Instead, there’s a calm, cold rage settling in my chest, like ice spreading through my veins.I grip the edge of the car door as Markus and Lukas sit in the backseat, their chatter subdued for once.“Are we really doing this?” Lukas mutters, glancing at Markus, who’s unnervingly quiet.Markus shrugs, loading another magazine into his Glock with meticulous precision. “Of course we are. Matteo’s not the type to let something like this slide.”“That’s not what I mean,” Lukas hisses, leaning forward. “I mean this. Him.” He gestures toward me with a nod of his head. “Look at him.”I glance at Lukas in the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. “You have something to say, cousin?”“You’re too calm,” he says flatly, n

MatteoThe hallway outside Amara’s room feels endless, its sterile white walls closing in on me with every passing second. The air reeks of antiseptic, the faint beeping of monitors inside her room the only sound breaking the oppressive silence.I pace, my boots clicking sharply against the linoleum floor, my chest tight with a fury I can’t release. My fists curl and uncurl at my sides, itching for something to hit, to destroy, to rip apart until this rage inside me is satisfied. But there’s nothing here to fight, nothing I can do except fucking wait.“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” my father says, his deep voice cutting through the silence. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.I glare at him, my pacing slowing for a moment before I pick it up again. “I can’t just stand here,” I mutter, the words grinding out through clenched teeth.“You need to calm down, Matteo,” my mother says gently. Her hands rest in her lap, her fingers twitching s

MatteoA month. Thirty goddamn days since I almost lost her.It’s been the longest and hardest month of my life. Amara’s recovery hasn’t just been physical—it’s been about breaking through the walls she built after what happened. Some days are good, and she teases me with that fire in her eyes that makes me want to kiss her senseless. Other days… other days, she’s quiet, withdrawn, lost in her head.But lately, there’s been more light in her. More life. She’s started venturing outside the house again, taking small steps back into the world. And I’ve been waiting for the right moment to show her what I’ve been working on.Today is that moment.I lean against the doorframe of my room, watching as she brushes her hair by the vanity. She’s wearing a pale blue sundress that flutters around her knees, and the sight of her looking so calm and put together makes something in my chest ache.“Busy?” I ask, my voice cutting through the quiet.She turns to look at me, her expression softening. “

MatteoThe dining room feels warmer tonight, though it has nothing to do with the flickering candles or the cozy atmosphere. It’s her.Amara sits across from me, her head slightly tilted as she studies her plate. She’s wearing a simple dress, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders, and I can’t stop staring. It’s been impossible to keep my eyes off her since this realization hit me like a freight train.I love her.The thought alone should terrify me, considering who I am, what I’ve done, and the life I lead. But when I look at her, I can’t bring myself to feel anything but certainty.She glances up, catching me mid-stare. “What?” she asks, a faint blush creeping up her neck.“Nothing,” I say, smirking as I spear a piece of steak with my fork. “Just admiring the view.”She rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to hide a smile.“Do you always have to be so insufferable?” she mutters, taking a sip of her wine.“Only with you,” I reply, leaning back i