All Chapters of MARRIED TO THE MAFIA: Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

LilaI barely made it two steps into the hall before the relief of seeing Luca turned into something else.Something cold.Something that made the edges of my vision go blurry.It started as a slow, dull throb in my side. Like a pulled muscle.Then it grew sharper. Hotter.I thought maybe it was just the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe I was finally letting my body feel the toll of the last few hours.But when I shifted Gabriel in my arms, something warm and wet slid down my hip, soaking into the waistband of my leggings.I stopped walking.My breath caught in my throat.“Lila?” Luca’s brow furrowed. He took a step toward me. “What’s wrong?”I looked down.There was a spreading patch of crimson staining the pale fabric.I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.“Lila?” Luca’s voice cracked. “Talk to me.”“I… ” My throat closed. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “I think…I’m bleeding.”For a second, no one moved.Then everything happened at once.Lena let out a strangled

LilaThe dining room felt warmer than it ever had before.Maybe it was the low golden light from the chandelier. Maybe it was the flowers someone probably Lena had arranged in tall vases along the sideboard. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that for the first time in months, everyone was sitting at the same table without shouting.I watched Luca settle into the chair beside me, his face pale and drawn. Even though he was exhausted, I could see the way he kept his hand resting on the handle of his cane, ready to stand if he needed to.He hadn’t let Gabriel out of his sight since we walked in the door.I couldn’t blame him.Gabriel was sleeping in a bassinet just a few feet away, swaddled tight and oblivious to the way this family was trying awkwardly, clumsily to stitch itself back together.Anna sat across from me, her gaze fixed on the baby as if she still couldn’t quite believe he was real.Alex had poured himself a glass of wine but hadn’t touched it. He just kept rolling the s

LucaI’d never known a moment so quiet.Not the hush before a gun went off.Not the silence after a man took his last breath.Not even the bone-deep stillness of lying awake at night, wondering if I’d made the right choices.None of that compared to the silence of sitting in this hospital room, watching my son sleep against Lila’s chest.He was finally here.A part of me one I hadn’t even known existed felt anchored by that truth.But under the relief and the wonder, there was something darker, too.A coil of dread that tightened around my ribs every time I looked at him.Because I knew exactly what kind of man my father was.And I’d spent my entire life trying to prove I was nothing like him.But now, holding my son’s entire future in my hands, I couldn’t help wondering what if the rot was already in me?What if I became him?What if, one day, this little boy looked at me the way I used to look at Richard Romano with fear instead of love?The thought made something in my chest seize

LilaI didn’t think I could cry anymore.My tears had run dry hours ago, or so I thought.But the second they placed him in my arms warm, tiny, impossibly perfect I started all over again.He was so much smaller than I expected.His little hands were curled into tight fists, one pressed to his rosy cheek. Dark hair stuck to his damp forehead. His skin was soft as velvet against my chest.And when he turned his face just enough to make a small, hiccupping noise, something in me broke open completely.I forgot the pain.I forgot the fear.I forgot the way my heart had nearly torn itself apart when I realized I’d be delivering him without Luca at my side.Because he was here now.And so was Luca.I looked up from the baby our, baby to find Luca watching me from the chair beside the bed.He hadn’t said much since they’d cleaned our son and tucked him against my chest.He’d just sat there, one hand braced on his cane, the other clenched so tightly on the armrest his knuckles were white.Hi

LucaThe car was waiting at the front steps when I emerged from the house.The morning was grey and cold, a damp wind sweeping in off the coast. It matched the hollow churn in my gut.I paused for a second on the top step, gripping the railing tighter than I meant to.The driver, Marco opened the back door without a word. He didn’t look at me.I couldn’t blame him.No one liked to look too long when a man was about to go hunt down his own mother.I forced myself to move, every step a reminder that I was still weaker than I’d ever admit. The cane hit the flagstones with a dull, deliberate rhythm, like a metronome marking the seconds before everything collapsed.Once I was in the car, Marco shut the door and took his place behind the wheel.Enzo climbed into the front passenger seat. He twisted around to look at me, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.“They were seen again,” he said without preamble.My jaw tensed.“Where?”“West, toward the coast. A rental car registered to a shell co