Married Off To The Merciless Mafia King のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 151 - チャプター 160

SerenaHer name was Maria. Doctor Maria. And I knew this because, for the past five weeks after the announcement of my pregnancy, I’d been visiting her hospital for routine checkups.The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air as I sat in the small, brightly lit waiting room. The muted sound of a news anchor’s voice played from the TV mounted in the corner. I rested my hands on my lap, admiring the new bracelet Timur had gotten me two nights ago. I smoothed out invisible wrinkles in my dress, pretending I wasn’t completely out of place here.The yellow on my dress made me smile.Pchelka.Timur would have been here if he could. I told myself that over and over, trying to drown out the ache of his absence. An important meeting, he said. A necessity. Still, I couldn’t help but wish he’d been able to push it aside, even just for an hour. On all those days, my husband accompanied me. All those days except today.Apart from this exception, I’d had unlimited access to Timur Yezhov’s supporti

Timur“What we need is stability and steady projection. Expansion can come later. We are already big enough as it is, and we’re doing fine. We don’t need to impress anyone.”Petrov Ludovico slid his briefcase across the desk, a smug look plastered on his chubby face, and with his vintage slicked-back silver hair, navy blue suit, and heirloom rings lined on his fingers, he was the pictorial representation of a bloody arrogant ass.I didn’t like him, and he didn’t like me, but he did good business. That was why, despite the urge to whack his face with the back of that leather briefcase, I opened the lid and frowned at the neatly arranged rows of mint green bills.“You think you can fucking buy me, Ludovico?”“Buy you?” He laughed, and the sound of his hoarse cackle grated my nerves. “Anyone who thinks they can buy the great and mighty Timur Yezhov surely takes delight in wasting his or her time. I’m not an idiot, Timur. Take that as an increase in my investment.”Shutting the lid, I pus

“Pregnant,” I repeated with more conviction.“I can’t believe that—”“That what?”“You slept with him, Serena.”Raising my chin, I glowered at him. “He’s my husband, Jay, and that’s beside the point right now. I have to protect my child. I need to get out of here. You have to stop them from getting to Timur.” Scanning the area to make sure we were really alone, I whispered, “These people—the Italians, you know they hate the Russians. If Enzo finds out I’m carrying Timur’s child, can you guess what would happen? He’d want to cause him as much pain as he felt when he captured Leonara. Jay, I don’t think I’d survive if anything happens to my baby.”Only then did the gravity of our situation sink into my brother. His eyes widened for a fraction before he cupped my cheeks and stroked reassuringly. “The only way that’ll ever happen is if they go through me first, and I swear on everythingwe hold dear, I’d die first before I let anything happen to you. I promise, Serena.”****The air in the

Lost in my anger at her brother, I hadn’t noticed her rise to her feet and make her way toward me. She collapsed into my arms, and for a moment, the rage subsided, replaced by the overwhelming need to keep her safe.“I don’t understand what’s happening.” She touched my face and searched my eyes. “How?”I reached for her wrist. My fingers closed around it, the delicate bones fragile under my grasp. She didn’t resist, but her eyes darted up to meet mine, questioning. I didn’t explain—not yet. Instead, I tilted her hand, examining the bracelet that circled her wrist. The diamond caught the light, glinting like it had a secret of its own. And it did.A tracker.Mytracker.It had been a wise decision, one I’d made without consulting her. Not that she needed to know the details.The memory resurfaced when I’d walked into that high-end boutique on Fifth Avenue weeks ago, the bell above the door chiming softly as I entered. The moment I steppedinside, conversations died. The polished salespeop

SerenaI sauntered almost aimlessly around the house, going nowhere but enjoying the feel of everywhere at the same time. With one hand placed protectively over my small baby bump, I stretched the other one out to caress a monochrome painting hanging up on the wall. The artwork depicted a serene but dark landscape, a withering tree at its center with gnarled branches stretched toward the sky, its dead leaves shimmering in coated black and silver. Surrounding the tree, rolling hills met a horizon of silver moonlight. It was sad and beautiful but looked out of place in the midst of nothing else but a vast, empty wall. And being drawn to the masterpiece, there was an instant connection.Years ago, I never would have thought I’d be the girl with the complicated life story, where her own brother would kidnap her to save her, or where she’d be married to one of the leaders of the Russian mob and be expecting his child. Undoubtedly, it was still a hard truth to digest, but even as I moved pa