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Todos os capítulos de Left for Dead by the Mafia King I Loved: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

10 Capítulos

1

I woke up before Isla.She lay still beside me, unconscious, her head bandaged and her breathing shallow. The doctors were monitoring her for a possible concussion. I, on the other hand, had no such luxury. The second I opened my eyes, I was dialing my family’s lawyer.I wanted a divorce.Rafe Moretti—my husband, the man who left me bleeding in some godforsaken warehouse while he played caretaker to Bianca and her cramps—would never have another claim on my name.I told my lawyer: file the papers and sent it to Rafe. Like I expected, no word from Rafe, not even a response.The door opened.“Mrs. Maretti?” the doctor asked, his voice polite but edged with concern. “You’re stable now, though your injuries are significant. A fractured leg, and a deep abdominal wound. If your sister hadn’t applied pressure when she did… you would’ve bled out.”“I’m lucky,” I said quietly. “Lucky to have Isla.”He hesitated—just long enough to make my stomach clench.“There’s more. We ran a full evaluation…

2

If it hadn’t been for the necklace around my throat—the one Isla gave me—I would’ve died right there, soaking in my own blood on a cracked concrete floor.The necklace wasn’t just jewelry. It was a tracker. A squeeze on the charm, and the signal would ping the other end—an unspoken SOS between sisters.We’d made a pact, Isla and I. If one of us pressed it, it meant we were in trouble. The kind of trouble no one else could help with.I had just enough strength left to squeeze it before the world turned black.The next thing I remember was being shaken—gently, urgently.“Serena. Serena, stay with me.” Isla.She was kneeling beside me, tears streaking down her cheeks, using the hem of her dress to try and stop the bleeding. Her hands were covered in my blood, but she never stopped pressing. Never stopped talking.“Hang in there,” she whispered, even as her voice cracked. “I’m getting you out of here.”Somehow—God knows how—she lifted me. Isla, my always-delicate sister, who could barely c

3

At first, it was subtle. Missed calls. Late nights. Then it was whispers. Secret meetings.Rafe stopped answering. Adam stopped caring.I’d tried to justify it. Over and over.Rafe was a casino boss—late nights, pressure, meetings with unsavory people. It came with the territory. And Adam? He was probably too busy with those offshore accounts, encrypted deals.And now—finally, painfully—Isla and I understood.There was never a missed call or a scheduling conflict or a damn business emergency.There was just Bianca Rotti.I called around, pieced the truth together one ugly shard at a time.Bianca Rotti, the Moretti’s old friend, came back to New York about six months ago—desperate, vulnerable, crying about some dangerous ex who wouldn’t leave her alone. She ran straight to Rafe. And he, in all his shining-knight delusion, opened the gates and let her in.She needed protection. Rafe had power. It was a perfect match—for her, anyway.And soon, Adam got involved too. Bianca’s ex? Another

4

During all the time Isla and I spent in the hospital—bleeding, healing, barely breathing—neither Rafe nor Adam reached out.Not a single message or a call.They probably hadn’t even noticed we weren’t home. Too busy playing hero for their precious Bianca, no doubt. Protecting her like some delicate little flower wilting under the weight of the world.Hell didn’t come until Isla and I checked ourselves out of the hospital—and ran into the circus.There they were. Bianca and her two knights on the street, probably shopping.Rafe was carrying the bags like a dutiful assistant, while Adam held her hand and guided her gently across the pavement, like she might collapse from the weight of her own perfume.The three of them looked like… a family. A couple and a spare. Or maybe a father, mother, and doting son.Honestly? They looked sick.Their smiles were even worse—plastic and pristine, like they belonged in a drugstore frame.Isla turned away, blinking fast, like she could erase the scene f

5

I woke a little bit earlier than Isla the next morning.Today was the day. The day we’d face the Morettis and make the divorce official.You’d think I’d feel empowered or liberated. But instead, there was a strange heaviness in my chest. A whisper of unease I couldn’t quite name.And then I saw her.Bianca. Standing on the courthouse steps like she owned the damn place, a baby cradled in her arms like some twisted prop in a redemption arc.She looked radiant. Just… perfect. Like someone had spent weeks pampering her back to life. The Moretti uncle and nephew must’ve taken good care of her.As soon as she spotted us, her face crumpled. Tears welled up instantly, like she’d rehearsed it in the mirror.“Serena, right? And Isla?” Her voice trembled with soft, practiced sincerity. “Please… don’t go through with this. Rafe and Adam are good men. They helped me when I moved back, after I broke up with my ex. He was—he was a monster. And then they helped me through the pregnancy, and the birt

6

Rafe’s face went ghost-pale. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me slightly, like he could rattle the truth he wanted out of me.He looked devastated.Good.Because I was more than devastated. I was wrecked.I was bleeding out on a warehouse floor while my so-called husband played hero to someone else.How dare he wear that look of sorrow now and mourn what he destroyed?I pictured it again—the blade flashing, the blood soaking my skin, the baby's life slipping away before I even knew they existed.I had never hated Rafe Moretti more than I did standing there in front of him now.The same man who once promised me the world… had turned his back when I needed him most. Had silenced his phone and practically told the kidnappers not to bother him.Now he wanted to grieve?No. He didn't get to.“If only you’d cared a little more,” I said, my voice low, shaking with fury.I clenched Isla’s hand tightly in mine.“I got stabbed, Rafe. Broken. Left for dead. If it weren’t for Isla, I would’ve die

7

Bianca, ever the savior, rushed to his side, thrusting her baby into the arms of a bodyguard. She wrapped her arms around Rafe, clinging like a barnacle."Please, Rafe," she sobbed. "Don’t do this. It hurts me to see you like this—"Rafe shoved her off him.Bianca stumbled, gasping like she'd been struck.Shock washed over her face—pure, gut-punched betrayal. Maybe for the first time, she realized her reign over the Morettis had cracks.I looked over the entire scene—the ruined Moretti men, the panicked little actress clutching empty air—and smiled coldly."If you don’t believe me," I said, sweeping my gaze across them, "feel free to send your own men to dig around. Everything I said? It’s the truth. Including the part where your sweet Bianca was the one who handed me over like a gift to your enemies. No one else would have done it except her.”Rafe and Adam turned in perfect, icy unison, pinning Bianca in place with glares so sharp they could’ve drawn blood.For once, Bianca didn’t kn

8

I smiled then. A cold, razor-sharp smile."Alright," I said quietly. "If you think I’m just acting up, Rafe... then walk your ass in there and sign the goddamn divorce papers already. I’m done with your bullshit."Rafe let out a harsh laugh."Fine," he said. His voice twisted with cruelty now. "As you wish, Serena. And bring your little sister too. I’ll have Adam sign as well. Us Morettis? We’ve had enough of you Valez women.”…Two hours later, it was finished. The divorce paper was signed and stamped.The judge’s signature on the papers felt like a gavel striking the end of a long, miserable sentence.Then it came assets divided, contracts dissolved and vows shattered.When Isla and I stepped out of that courthouse, we didn’t just look free. We radiated it.We hailed a taxi straight back to the Moretti Estate, not wasting a second.Luckily, all the Morettis lived inside the same gated manor—separate mansions, same grounds.It made packing—and leaving—swift and clean.Adam and Rafe tr

9

The next day, there was a knock at our apartment door.The private investigator stood there, eyes sharp, a little excited."I didn’t get the kidnappers to talk," he said. "But I found someone else. A witness."My heart jumped.He continued, "A cleaning lady. She was scheduled to clean the private suite that day but was delayed by traffic. She got there just in time to see what happened—and stayed silent because she was scared. But she saw everything."I was already grabbing my coat.“Let’s bring that old lady over at your office," I said. “We will talk over there.”…The investigator’s office was small, cramped, smelling faintly of old coffee and copier paper.Sitting nervously on a worn chair was a woman—sixty, maybe older. Her hands wrung the strap of her purse over and over.Her eyes darted around, scared.I crouched down, softening my voice."You’re safe," I said gently. "We just want the truth. That’s all."The woman licked her lips. Nodded."I was late that day," she said, voice

10

Rafe sent out men tried to hunt Bianca down. But they came back empty-handed.She was gone. She'd booked her escape days ago—long before the truth came crashing down, even before Isla and I even woke up in our hospital beds.She’d been planning it all along.While we were fighting for our lives, she was already slipping away.And somehow the story of me and my sister leaked. First through the local papers. Then the national news.Even CNN picked it up—graphic footage, brutal headlines.Too cruel for public eyes. Beyond humanity.The world finally saw a glimpse of what we survived.…I was driving us back to our little apartment. Isla sat beside me, quiet. She hadn't touched the wheel since the accident. PTSD, they said.We were almost home. Almost there.And then— At the intersection— A flash of silver. A sports car, speeding instead of slowing.Coming right for us.For one horrifying moment, I locked eyes with the driver.Bianca. It was her. She was going to hit us.There was no time

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