Semua Bab The Mafia Devil’s Contractual Wife : Bab 101 - Bab 110

~ALINA’S POV~The silence cracked as Dominic’s smirk returned.“Let’s not pretend this is going to be easy,” he said, leaning forward with clasped hands. “You sit here with borrowed power, Donna, but blood speaks louder than a borrowed name.”A low voice from the right echoed, “Or a borrowed ring.”Corsi, that bastard.Laughter rippled along the table, sharp and cold.“Tell me,” a thickset Don with a heavy mustache said, his gold ring flashing as he gestured, “do you even speak Italian fluently, or is this Canadian accent the only thing you brought into this family?”The laughter grew, but I let it wash over me, my fingers lightly drumming against the wine glass.“My father,” I said calmly, “was Luca Moretti of Naples, a man of pure Italian blood, and the Moretti family is older than half the families represented here. I may have grown up in Canada, but Italian blood flows in me, Italian pride flows in me.”“Blood?” scoffed De Luca, rolling his eyes. “Your father ran to Canada to esc

~ALINA POV~ The room fell silent. “Mancini?” I whispered. “Don Mancini?” “He is the youngest,” Rocco said. “You saw how the others treated him. Maybe he tried to poison our Don, take him out, gain leverage.” “No,” I said sharply. “No, Rocco. Mancini was the only one who supported me in there. This is clearly someone trying to frame him.” “Supporting you in the room doesn’t mean he’s innocent,” Rocco shot back. “Sometimes the ones who smile at you are the first to stab you in the back.” “It’s too obvious,” I hissed. “Who poisons someone and leaves the evidence in their car? Unlocked? In plain sight?” Rocco opened his mouth, but Dante held up a hand. “She’s right. It looks suspicious.” Rocco’s face twisted in frustration. “We can use it to stall them. At least buy time.” “No,” I snapped, my voice echoing off the stone walls. “We are not using Mancini as a pawn to buy time. I won’t falsely accuse an innocent man.” “Alina, I know you’re right, but Rocco is also right,” Dante

~ALINA’S POV~ “… The Ruger Russian Mafia,” she had said. The room fell heavy with silence after Farah’s words, her voice still hanging in the air like smoke no one dared to breathe in. It was as if the entire chamber exhaled at once, then froze. Eyes widened, bodies shifted, and the guards at the door stiffened, gripping their rifles. Even Dante’s face went pale, his jaw locked, his eyes flickering with something I had never seen before. Fear. A cold, biting fear. My knees felt weak, the weight of the moment crushing into my chest as my vision swam. My breath caught, and my body tensed so hard I thought my bones would snap. “What?” I finally found my voice, my hand pressing to my chest as if to steady my heartbeat. “What did you just say?” Farah turned to me, her eyes glassy but her chin lifted with determination. “Your husband, Valentino Romano, is the firstborn son of Nikolai Ruger, the Don of the Ruger Mafia Family in Russia.” The words hit me like a blow, and I stag

~VALENTINO’S POV~ I had slipped quietly into the chamber because I wanted to watch Alina handle the Table of Dons in my absence, to see how the empire I built would stand without me there to hold its spine. But instead, I was met with the greatest shock of my life. The man on the screen, Nikolai Ruger, the cold-blooded king of Russia, the butcher of countless Romano wolves, the monster we were raised to hate, was my father. I moved closer, each step feeling like lead, my boots echoing against the marble floor. I stared into those cold gray eyes that I had only seen in nightmares and in war reports. No. No, this can’t be. “Mom,” I said, my voice low, cold, shaking with everything I was holding in, “no wonder you refused to tell me who my father was.” She gasped, tears brimming again. “Valentino, I—” “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her shoulders trembling. “I’m so sorry.” My hands balled into fists at my sides as I turned to the screen, to him. Nikolai Ruger’s face

~VALENTINO’S POV~ I sat by the edge of the pool, legs dipped in the cold water, ripples dancing around my ankles as the night breeze kissed my skin. Above me, the sky was a sheet of endless black, sprinkled with stars that felt too distant to care about the chaos raging inside me. I stared up, breathing in the scent of wet stone, chlorine, and pine drifting from the gardens. The lights around the Castello glowed softly, reflections shimmering across the pool’s surface like scattered diamonds. Everything that had happened over the past weeks flashed before me, reconciling with my mother, Vince, hospitals, the table of Dons, the poison, Dominic’s betrayal, Don Nikolai’s face on the screen, calling me son. Was I wrong to reject him? Did I make the right choice by refusing the man who claimed to be my father? Would Padrino be proud of the man I’ve become, or would he look down from wherever he is, disappointed I turned my back on blood? “Blood,” I muttered, my voice low,