All Chapters of Owned by the Mafia Boss : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The Weight of the PastLorenzo The call from Sergio had been brief and filled with panic. "The villa has been breached, boss, Elisa is gone, that Russian mobster is responsible, I don't know what he's doing in Italy, or how he knows Elisa and that we have her. His men boss, they moved like ghosts, I barely escaped."My blood ran cold, What the hell was Pyotr doing in Italy? It seems I had underestimated Antonio, and my plans, so meticulously crafted, so close to fruition, were crumbling. Antonio had found Elisa, not through his own brute force, but through the insidious power of Pyotr. The news hit me like a physical blow, till the end, Antonio continues to pull one over me. The rage that had fueled me for weeks now twisted into a bitter, cold despair.I paced my hidden office in Calabria, the silence of the room mocking my frantic thoughts, there were no more allies, what allies did I even have before? Marcello was a sniveling coward and he had easily broken. And Marco Bianchi

Regret and ResolveElisaThe estate felt cold, even with fires burning in every room, there was a chill in the air. Antonio and all his men had returned, but it didn’t feel like a victory.There were shadows under his eyes, tension in his jaw, he moved like every step weighed him down, like he was still fighting something inside. I knew what he had done, that he had killed Lorenzo, he hadn’t said it out loud to me, he didn’t have to, the blank expression in his eyes said it all.I found him in the library, sitting by the fire, a glass of whiskey sat untouched beside him. The flames lit his face, showing the sharp lines of exhaustion and the sadness he couldn’t hide, he stared into the fire like it held something he couldn’t look away from.I walked in slowly, my heart heavy with worry, I knew what Lorenzo meant to him, he was not just a rival but something more. They had a twisted bond, built on years of trust and betrayal. Antonio carried his pain quietly, but it was there, just

Turning the TablesElisaThe gunshot shattered the silence, echoing through the room, my heart leaped into my throat as I woke up. Instinctively, I reached for my belly, protecting the baby growing inside me.But the scream that followed wasn’t mine, my eyes flew open just in time to see the horror.Bianca was clutching her chest, blood spreading fast across her white nightgown, her face was pale and her expression was frozen in shock and pain. Georgia stood a few feet away, gun still raised, stunned into place.Bianca had taken the bullet for me.A second later, the door to the secret passage slammed open, Antonio stormed in, his face contorted with rage, gun aimed at Georgia. Behind him, Matteo appeared; he froze for a second, before rushing to Bianca's side, shouts erupted throughout the house.Georgia spun around, eyes wide, trembling, she was trapped, I guess her plan was falling apart.Antonio didn’t hesitate, he lunged toward her, hand holding his gun, his fury was terrifyin

Marco's MessageMarcoLorenzo and Georgia were both dead, the reports I got from my people confirmed it. There were no surprises there, Lorenzo was too messy, too driven by his pathetic bitterness. Georgia, too wild, too consumed by her jealousy of Elisa. They were both liabilities, just tools that eventually broke. Antonio, predictable as always, had simply cleaned up my loose ends for me.I sat in my office, high above the churning waters of the Amalfi Coast. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, making the sea sparkle, it was beautiful, a perfect, calm picture. I sipped my coffee as I looked out the window, I knew this calm I felt now was a trick. I already knew Antonio was coming for me next, and I was ready.Antonio Romano, for all his rage and his emotional attachments, was still a strong opponent. He hadn't been defeated, he had won the small battles. I knew that he was consolidating his power, building his defenses, and preparing for war against me, my network h

The Eve of BattleElisaThe air in our private room inside the estate felt heavy, it was thick with unspoken thoughts. Tomorrow, the true fight began, we were bringing the war to Marco's doorstep.The house was quiet, too quiet for the number of men moving through its halls, preparing. Every soldier's face held a grim resolve, mirroring the tension in the air.I found Antonio in our bedroom, standing by the large window overlooking the darkened Sicilian hills. The moon cast long shadows across the olive groves, and a cool breeze swept through the open glass. He wasn't looking at the view, though, he was staring out, his mind miles away, already on the battlefield. He was lost in thought, burdened by the weight of the coming fight.I walked to him quietly, my steps soft on the marble floor, and I slipped my arms around his waist from behind, resting my head against his broad back. I could feel the tension in his muscles, hard and unyielding. Even now, in what should be a moment of