บททั้งหมดของ Claimed By The Mafia Don: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Lucia’s POVThe scent of freshly baked bread filled my room as Alina pressed a small tray into my hands.“You keep forgetting to eat,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “And I don’t need you fainting in Dante’s presence. He might actually enjoy that.”I rolled my eyes and tore off a piece of bread. “Oh, sure. He’d probably smirk and say it proves I’m helpless, then lock me away like some fragile doll.”Alina chuckled but didn’t argue. She sat beside me, her presence making this cold house feel a little less lonely.“You did an amazing job with the dress,” I told her, running my fingers over the silk she had altered for me. “You’re the only reason I don’t look like a mess every day.”She grinned, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s nothing, really. Besides, it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”And I knew what she meant.She was my only link to something human. Something normal. Without her, I’d be alone with Dante’s world.The door slammed open and the warmth va

Lucia’s POV I spent the day combing through scattered notes, some hastily scribbled, others underlined to the point of tearing. The more I pieced together, the clearer it became that Vincenzo was the common denominator in everything that had gone wrong. But it wasn’t enough.I needed more than a gut feeling and circumstantial evidence. Dante would never move without solid proof, and neither would the men in his ranks. Without hard facts, Vincenzo would keep getting away untouched.I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. Frustration burned in my chest.The journalist, though...I flipped through my notes again, rereading the little I had on him. His articles were brutal, painting Dante as a criminal and trying to expose him for what he truly was. It made it seem like Dante was desperately trying to clean up his image, but it wasn’t working. That wasn’t surprising, since Dante had no shortage of enemies. But the man himself? His background didn’t add up.I traced a finger

Lucia’s POVI sucked in a sharp breath, my lungs finally remembering how to function.Dante’s face was hard like stone, his eyes were deadly. The room was silent, and in that silence, I heard only one thing.Death.Enzo remained eerily still, his hands loose at his sides. But I knew better than to think he wasn’t calculating or plotting, trying to find a way out of this.Dante tilted his head slightly, gaze never leaving Enzo. His voice when he finally spoke, was soft., yet dangerous. “Killing her wasn’t your call to make.”The words slid through the air like a final verdict.The moment dragged on, heavy with tension that felt suffocating. Then, footsteps echoed from the hallway. A group of Dante’s men spilled into the room, surrounding us with more guns.My pulse roared in my ears as I was still tied to the damn chair.Enzo let out a slow exhale, shaking his head as if Dante was the one being unreasonable. “I’m trying to do what you refuse to, Dante. I’m trying to protect what’s left

Lucia’s POVI had never been so aware of silence until the ride back.Dante didn’t speak. Not once.He kept his eyes fixed on the road, his expression like it was carved from stone. The only sound was the occasional turn of the signal and the low hum of the engine, but each passing second made my skin itch, the weight of what I’d done pressing down like fog between us.Fiancée.Had I gone too far?The moment I’d said it, I saw something flicker in his eyes. Shock, yes—but underneath it, something possessive and dangerous. But now… all I could feel was distance. And it scared me more than his anger ever could.When we pulled up to the mansion, he didn’t wait for me. No parting glance. No words. He just stepped out of the car and disappeared into the house like I was nothing.I stood there for a long second before dragging myself inside.My feet took me to my room on autopilot, but sleep didn’t come. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my chest tightening with every passing minute. Had

Lucia’s POVHospitals always smelled the same: bleach, sadness, and something too clean to feel normal. I hated it.The white walls felt like they were closing in as I rushed past the nurses’ station, Rico just a few steps behind me.A nurse with tired eyes stopped me at the door to my father’s room. “You’re his daughter?”I nodded quickly, my heart stuck somewhere between my throat and stomach.“He was found unconscious on his porch,” she said. “We believe he fell down a short flight of stairs. The damage is minor—bruised ribs, slight concussion. He’s lucky. A little more force and—” she stopped herself. “He’s awake now. Confused, but awake.”My fingers tightened around the edge of my coat. “Thank you.”She smiled and stepped aside.I walked into the room.My father looked smaller. Thinner. His bones pressed against the sheets, and his face looked pale under the harsh lights. Tubes ran from his arms, and a dark bruise covered his temple like a shadow.“Dad,” I breathed.He stirred, e