All Chapters of Sold To The Mafia Lord: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

The air inside the Moretti estate smelled like smoke and iron.Every corridor bore scars from the war, bullet holes in marble, blood streaks on the walls, the faint echo of chaos that refused to die. But in the days since Lucien’s collapse, the silence had changed. It wasn’t just grief anymore. It is now discipline too. And I was the reason why.Men who once only looked to Lucien now turned to me. They watched me cross the hallways with a quiet kind of reverence, heads lowered, eyes following every step I made. There was no crown on my head, no title before my name, but the weight of command clung to me all the same.Lucien’s empire had not fallen. Not while I could breathe.“Gather the list,” I said to Raul Navarro as I stepped into the strategy room.It was a mess of cracked glass tables, torn maps, bloodstained ledgers. Raul had been trying to rebuild some order, but even he looked exhausted, his arm in a sling, his jaw set in quiet defiance.He turned when he heard me. “List of wh

Dawn bled slow and gray over the Moretti estate. The smoke from burned curtains and scorched beams hung low, a ragged halo that made the house look less like a palace and more like a battlefield shrine. I stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, cloak pulled tight around my shoulders though the air had the raw bite of early autumn. Below, men moved with the focused, clean violence of those who had done this before: loading crates, checking magazines, fastening straps, stacking cases of ammunition into the back of battered trucks.The sight should have sickened me. It did not. It steadied me.They were my makeshift army now. They had followed a man they called boss for years; they would follow me today because I gave them a reason to. Because this was no longer only about vengeance. This was about cutting out the rot before it ate the whole house. About ending the war started with my name.Raul stood at the top of the stairs, his sling a dark reminder of the night we had lost Jul

The estate was already trembling under the weight of gunfire when Emilia took a step forward. The air cracked with chaos, shouts, bullets, glass shattering like rain. The marble floors of Dario Vescari’s mansion gleamed beneath the strobe of muzzle flashes.Dario’s guards scrambled for cover, shouting orders that dissolved into screams. It all happened too fast for them to understand; they didn’t realize the men outside weren’t reinforcements in case anything went wrong. They were executioners. Emilia had briefed them for war.She didn’t blink.Her hand lowered from the small detonator she had pressed. Her voice came steady, even as the walls shook.“One thing I’ve learned from Lucien,” she said softly, “is that you never give an enemy a second chance to hurt you.”Her father turned sharply, fury flaring through his shock. “What have you done?”“What Lucien would have done,” Emilia replied. “Ended the problem. Permanently.”Dario’s eyes widened as realization dawned—too late.“You…”“Y

Lucien woke like a man dragged back from death by force.He surfaced from the darkness like someone hauled out of deep water, lungs burning, ribs screaming, chest aching with each breath. Every muscle throbbed with the memory of fire, metal, and loss. The world swam in a haze of pain and heavy silence.He blinked.The ceiling.The carved cornices.The scent of antiseptic and blood.The room was painfully still, too still, except for the soft, exhausted breathing of someone asleep beside him.Rosa.Her head rested on the edge of his bed, her hand still loosely wrapped around his. Her fingers were cold. Her face streaked from old tears. Her hair undone, her eyes bruised with sleepless grief.She hadn’t left him. Not once.Lucien tried to speak, but the first sound caught in his throat like broken glass.Rosa stirred, lashes fluttering. The moment her gaze found his awake, A breath escaped her, trembling and relieved.“Lucien,” she whispered, voice cracking.He blinked again, slow, disori

The room was silent. Too silent.Emilia lingered in the doorway for a long moment, eyes fixed on the study where Lucien had retreated hours ago. The memory of his gaze burned behind her eyelids, the anger, the betrayal, the raw, almost feral intensity that had cut through her chest when their eyes met in the courtyard. She could feel it still, like a living thing pressing against her ribs.He had gone inside, and she had let him. Hours had passed. The golden light of late afternoon poured across the polished floors, stretching long shadows over the hall. The estate, still scarred by the chaos of the morning, held its breath. And yet he had not emerged.Emilia’s body ached in ways bullets and broken glass couldn’t explain. Her muscles throbbed with fatigue, her skin still tingling from adrenaline. Her hands shook slightly, not from the battle, not from the blood she had shed, but from the storm that still raged in her chest. The storm that was Lucien.She stepped forward, letting the we