บททั้งหมดของ The Mafia Protocol: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Camilla stared at Evelyn, the past pressing against the present like a wound that had never fully healed.“Tell me everything,” Camilla said, pulling Evelyn deeper into the shadows of the garden, out of earshot from prying eyes and ears.Evelyn’s fingers trembled as she reached into her coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “They call themselves the Crimson Order. They were loyal to Marco once, but they’re worse than him, Camilla. More organized. More ruthless. They didn’t just lose power when Marco fell. They lost everything they had spent decades building—and they blame you for it.”Camilla unfolded the paper carefully. Names were scrawled across it—names she didn’t recognize and some she did. Hidden players. Silent assassins. Ghosts who bled.“They’re planning something,” Evelyn continued, her voice low and urgent. “I don’t know when, but soon. And it won’t just be you they target. It’ll be everyone connected to you. They want the city back—and they’ll drown it in blood to g

The morning after the blood moon, Camilla rose early, her side aching dully beneath the fresh bandages. She ignored the discomfort, shoving the pain into the same locked room where she kept her fear.Today wasn’t a day for weakness.Today, they prepared for war.In the main conference room of the Falcone estate, every key player in Riccardo’s empire gathered.Matteo, Luca, Gabriella, even Rocco—who hadn’t left his nightclub in months—sat around the long mahogany table, their faces grim, their weapons never far from reach.Riccardo stood at the head of the table, a dark storm in human form.Camilla took her seat beside him, her presence silent but commanding.She could feel the shift in the room—the subtle nods of respect, the way even the most hardened men glanced at her wound with muted outrage.She wasn’t just Riccardo’s wife anymore.She was their queen.“Bishop and the Crimson Order made their move,” Riccardo began, his voice slicing through the tension. “They tried to kill Camill

The warehouse was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears like the calm before a thunderstorm. Camilla stood just inside the open entrance, her boots crunching on the shattered remnants of glass beneath her feet. The scent of oil, blood, and metal hung heavy in the air. Her gaze swept across the floor—rows of empty crates, overturned chairs, and a faint trail of crimson leading deeper into the darkness.Riccardo hadn’t told her everything. That much was obvious now.She clutched the small earpiece Luca had given her before they arrived. “You sure they’re inside?”Luca’s voice crackled in her ear. “Thermal shows movement. Four signatures. One stationary—could be your ghost.”Ghost. That’s what they’d started calling the man who’d been quietly unravelling Riccardo’s empire from the shadows. Camilla now knew his name: Viktor Massini. A former ally turned rival with a vendetta older than her marriage.She moved silently, gun drawn, every nerve stretched taut. Behi

The Falcone estate had never been this quiet.Not even during funerals.Camilla paced the balcony of her suite, her eyes sweeping over the dark city skyline. The stars above were veiled by low-hanging clouds, threatening rain, thunder, or worse. Inside her chest, her heart mirrored that storm—restless, churning, on the verge of breaking.She had killed a man.She had taken a life with her own hands, and though it was in self-defense, though it had saved Riccardo and possibly others, the weight of it sat heavily on her shoulders. No one had spoken much since the incident. Not even Riccardo. Especially not Riccardo.He had seen the whole thing—the way she didn’t hesitate, the way her hands had trembled only after the blood stopped pouring.She hadn’t seen him flinch. But something between them had shifted.Was it respect? Fear? Or the beginning of the end?A knock at the door drew her out of her spiraling thoughts. She turned, expecting Isadora or maybe even Luca—but it was Riccardo.Of

Camilla sat at the head of the long, sleek table, the weight of the room pressing down on her. The men and women around her were Riccardo’s closest allies, his inner circle. The tension in the air was palpable, and she could almost taste the doubt that lingered in their eyes. They had no reason to trust her, no reason to believe that she could handle the power they held in their hands. But she wasn’t here to play the part of the docile wife; she was here to take what was hers.The papers before her were filled with numbers, names, and addresses, the key to the empire Riccardo had built. He had promised her the world, and she was going to take it. But every inch of that world was covered in blood. She knew the rules of this game. Loyalty was earned in this world through fear, manipulation, and ruthlessness.Riccardo stood beside her, watching the room carefully, his eyes cold and unreadable. He was a master of the game, and he had made it clear that in this world, there was no room for