Todos os capítulos de Mafia's Sinful Bride : Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

Gabriella’s Pov I should have known from the beginning.There was something too slick about Martini—too calm, too rehearsed. He always spoke in measured tones, always looked you in the eye, like he was calculating how deep he could bury the knife before you noticed the pain. But I didn’t see it. Or maybe I didn’t want to.Leonardo trusted him. And I trusted Leonardo.I stood in the back room of the villa, hands still trembling from the shootout that had left three of Martini’s men bleeding out on the marble floor. Smoke curled from the barrel of the pistol I hadn’t even realized I’d fired. My ears rang with silence.Martini didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at the bodies.He turned to me slowly, like a man adjusting his cufflinks before dinner. That smile—it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t angry. It was empty. Hollow as a dry well.“You’ve become quite the problem, Gabriella,” he said, his voice almost fond. “A beautiful, inconvenient problem.”“What the hell is going on?” I demanded. My vo

Alessio's Pov She looked like a ghost brought back to life.Wrapped in that soft old blanket, curled into the corner of the couch like she belonged there—and she did—Gabriella breathed in and out as if she was relearning how to exist in the world. Every few seconds, she glanced around the room like she couldn’t believe it was real.And I couldn’t stop staring.Her smile had returned—slightly crooked, hesitant—but it was hers. Her eyes were tired but bright. She was alive.But beneath all that relief, under the avalanche of joy at seeing her safe, there was something else tangled in my gut: guilt.I felt…filthy.I’d hurt her. Maybe not in the ways that left bruises or drew blood, but in the quieter, crueler ways. With silence. With distance. With the kind of words you don’t shout but drop like stones. I had stood by, too many times, when I should have stood up for her. Stood with her.And yet here she was—holding my hand like I was still worthy of being loved.My throat tightened. I h

Gabriella’s Pov My eyes fluttered open slowly, as if waking from a dream that refused to release me. A dull ache throbbed at the back of my skull, and the world came into focus in bits and pieces, first the cracked ceiling above, then the unfamiliar scent of mildew and metal, and finally the biting cold of the iron restraints biting into my wrists.I was in a bed, if you could even call it that. The mattress was thin and stained, and a single flickering bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting long, jittery shadows across the room. My arms ached. I tried to move, only to feel the harsh pull of the chains that kept my hands shackled to the bedposts. My pulse quickened.Where the hell was I?The walls were gray, bare concrete, and a single metal door stood at the far end of the room. No windows. No way to know if it was night or day. My breath caught in my throat, and I fought to push down the rising panic. I had to stay calm. Think, Gabriella, think.And then, the door creaked open.My

Gabriella's Pov The morning sunlight slipped through the thin curtains like golden fingers, brushing against my face, warming my cheek. I blinked slowly, my lashes fluttering against the pillowcase as I stirred, trying to resist the gentle nudge of daybreak. My body ached in places I didn’t even know could ache, a dull soreness clinging to every limb like a second skin. Sleep had claimed me like a thief in the night, but it hadn't been kind—just necessary. I felt as though I'd fought a war in my dreams and lost.For a long moment, I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember how it felt to wake up without dread pressing on my chest. The events of the past few days had blurred into one tangled mess of adrenaline, pain, and fear. But there was something else too—something sharp and persistent beneath it all. A name. Alessio.Just the thought of him sent a shiver down my spine. I hated how his presence lingered in my mind, how the memory of his voice could still echo

Alessio's Pov My heart jolted like someone had driven a knife straight through it. Unborn child—that was what Martini had just said. The words echoed in my head, bouncing around with disbelief, confusion, and something dangerously close to hope.I stared at Gabriella.Everything else—Martini’s gun pointed at my forehead, the sweat dripping down my back, the pounding in my ears—faded into the background as I searched her face for the truth. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes shimmering with something raw. Something real.“Yes,” she whispered, barely audible. But I didn’t need her to say more.She was pregnant.With my child.I blinked. My vision tunneled, not from the pressure of the gun still threatening my life, but from the gravity of her words. She was carrying my baby. Our baby.A tremor ran through me, knocking the air from my lungs. I hadn’t seen this coming—hadn’t even considered it. But as shock gave way to awe, a warmth bloomed in my chest. A fierce kind of joy. The kind of