All Chapters of Becoming the Forbidden Possession of the Mafia Boss: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Nikolai’s POVBack in my hospital room, I stared at the ceiling tiles and tried to ignore the persistent ache in my side. The pain medication was wearing off, but I’d refused the nurse’s offer of another dose. I needed my mind clear for what was coming next.Gregory stood by the window, occasionally glancing at his phone for updates from our security teams. The afternoon light streaming through the blinds cast long shadows across the sterile room.“Adrian seemed troubled when he left,” Gregory observed.“He has reason to be.” I shifted carefully in the bed. “Francisco’s planning went deeper than we initially thought.”My phone rang. Gabriel’s name appeared on the screen, which meant whatever was happening couldn’t wait for my discharge tomorrow.“Nikolai, we have a situation,” Gabriel said without preamble. “Leonardo’s demanding an emergency meeting. He’s claiming Francisco acted without family authorization and wants to discuss terms.”I sat up straighter, ignoring the sharp protest f

Nikolai’s POVThe hospital halls stretched endlessly as Gregory pushed my wheelchair through corridors that smelled like cleaning solution and sickness. My discharge papers rustled in my jacket pocket, signed so fast the ink was probably still wet. The elevator lurched upward, each floor feeling like another step toward disaster.St. Mary’s wasn’t like the private hospital where they’d been treating me. Here, everything looked tired. Scuffed floors, buzzing lights that made everyone’s skin look yellow. The kind of place where people came when they had no other choice.Gregory’s phone guided us to a service elevator that supposedly reached the roof. Hospital workers moved past us without a second glance, too caught up in their own emergencies to care why a guy in a wheelchair was heading somewhere he probably shouldn’t be.The rooftop door stood there like a wall between me and whatever hell Adrian had walked into. Wind whistled underneath it, carrying city sounds from fifteen stories b

Nikolai’s POVGabriel’s words dropped into the medical room like poison. Francisco’s body. Discovered. Twenty minutes ago. Gregory’s work had either crumbled or someone had been watching us from the start.Dr. Martinez stopped working on Adrian’s wound, her needle hovering midair. She knew when to pay attention and when to forget what she’d heard.“How?”Gabriel shut the door with quiet finality. “Anonymous call about gunshots at the hospital. Police found him with his own gun, staged exactly like Gregory planned.”“So what’s wrong?”“Leonardo got a call five minutes after the cops showed up. Someone made sure the Moretti family heard about their dead son before any official word came down.”Adrian winced as Dr. Martinez resumed stitching. The numbness from the injection couldn’t touch what was building in his mind.“They know.” Adrian’s voice barely carried across the room.“They guess,” Gabriel said. “Guessing isn’t proving.”Dr. Martinez pulled another stitch tight. Her movements s

edge, staring at the bandaged foot propped against a stack of pillows, watching dawn paint the curtains in shades of gold and amber. The Mancini estate felt hollow around me, like a theater between performances where all the actors had gone home.My phone buzzed endlessly against the nightstand. Seventeen missed calls from Isabelle, each voicemail more desperate than the last. I could hear her voice through the speaker preview: “Adrian, where are you? The news about Francisco… they’re saying he’s dead. Call me back. Please, I’m scared.”The news. Francesco Moretti, estranged family member with history of mental instability, discovered deceased on St. Mary’s Hospital rooftop. Self-inflicted gunshot wound. Police investigating but no foul play suspected. Clean, simple, exactly what Gregory had crafted from the bloody chaos I’d left behind.No mention of kidnapping. No reference to extortion attempts or legal documents scattered in the wind. Nothing about the man who’d fought for his lif

Adrian’s POVThe Moretti estate gates looked different today. Bigger guards. More guns. Eyes watching me like I was some stranger trying to break in instead of family coming home. The iron gates and stone lions that had become familiar over the past seven years now felt like walls built to keep me out.I rolled up to the checkpoint expecting the usual quick wave-through from security. Instead, four armed men surrounded my car, hands hovering over their guns like they were expecting trouble.The main guard walked to my window, all business and no warmth. “State your business, sir.”State my business. Here. At what was supposed to be my father’s house. The disrespect burned like acid in my throat.“Have you forgotten who I am?” I kept my voice steady, but anger leaked through anyway.Before the guard could answer, Peter stepped out of the security booth. Leonardo’s personal bodyguard still looked like he’d stepped off the pages of a magazine, every crease perfect, every button in place.