Lahat ng Kabanata ng I Saved the Mafia Boss—Now I'm His Obsession. : Kabanata 131 - Kabanata 140

Adriano ⫘☠︎︎⫘ Two fucking hours. What the hell were they doing to my wife in there? She swore it’d be quick. Ten minutes, in and out. So why the fuck was I sitting here, staring at the sterile white doors, counting every second like I was strapped to a ticking bomb? I tried calling her but the buzz rattled in my lap, in her bag, and the only person who should be answering it was the one lying on some cold table behind that door. I opened the texts. Scrolled until I found Pinkerbell. Me: How long does a D&C usually take? Three dots blinked. Disappeared. Came back. Pinkerbell: What? Why are you asking me that? My jaw locked. My thumb hammered the screen. Me: Mads is having one. She said it’d be quick. It’s been two fucking hours. Pinkerbell: TWO HOURS?! Are you serious?? My chest tightened. My knee bounced. And for a split second, I pictured myself storming through those double doors, ripping the first doctor I saw out by his throat. I don’t wait well. I don

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 Month 1 | Driftless Escape | 6 Weeks Pregnant. My legs ached from walking and my stomach pitched again, a sour wave rising up that I forced down with shallow breaths. I pressed a hand over the small swell beneath my coat, whispering to it like I could soothe both of us. “Just a little further,” I murmured, “We’ll keep moving.” Headlights swept across the asphalt, making me flinch back into the darkness at the edge of the road. My chest hammered so loud it drowned out the hiss of tires against wet pavement. I half-expected the car to slow, a black sedan pulling over with Adriano climbing out. But the headlights passed. I bit down hard, forcing my throat open to breathe again. I didn’t know where I was anymore, past Joliet maybe, past the lights of Chicago that had always been too loud, too full of him. Out here it was nothing but the hum of cicadas, the rustle of cornstalks, and the stretch of I-55 under my shoes. I couldn’t stop, though. If

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 My baby came into this world already fighting, already struggling. I didn’t even know where to begin with him. From the very first day, he was sick. I don’t know why. I don’t know if it was something I did, if I carried him wrong, ate the wrong thing, thought the wrong thought… if God was punishing me somehow. All I know is my baby hasn’t had a single day in his three short weeks of life where he wasn’t hurting. He’s so tiny, too tiny. His fists can’t even curl properly around my finger the way other babies do. Some nights he jerks so hard in my arms I think he’s leaving me, seizures shaking through his little frame, and all I can do is hold him tighter. His skin burns hot with fevers, then turns pale again, washed out by the anemia, and I keep wondering, is this my fault? Did I do this to him? Hospitals have become my second home. I haven’t seen the outside world since the day he was born. It’s been three weeks of white walls, monitors beeping, do

Adriano ⫘☠︎︎⫘ “Let me hold him,” Alessia said the second I stepped into the living room with my son. Madeleine was locked in our bedroom. I’d deal with her later. I slid him into her arms. My fingers lingered on him, unwilling to let go, until Alessia’s grip closed sure around him. She rocked him gently, whispering in Italian, words of blessing, of blood, of belonging. My brothers leaned in, to look at him. The room hung on every sound he made, every sigh, every twitch of his tiny fingers. My brothers leaned closer, my father’s stare was full of love. Then Dante broke the silence, “What’s his name?” Alessia’s eyes lifted from the child to me, waiting. I froze. The answer wasn’t there. Fuck. I didn’t know. She never told me. “I… don’t know,” I admitted, voice low. Brows pulled tight. The weight of the room pressed on me. Raphael finally cut in, “At the hospital he was just ‘baby Mendes.’” His gaze flicked to me, sharp. “I don’t think he has a name yet.” A hot flush of a

Adriano ⫘☠︎︎⫘ The Lombardis were finally on their way out, coats shrugged on. Rino shook my father's hand a little too tightly. Remo trailed just behind him, all swagger and teeth. I caught the way his eyes flicked to the top of the stairs where Madeleine had disappeared, and my hand itched for my gun. At the threshold, Rino clapped my shoulder, murmured something oily about family and Alessia, and then stepped towards his car. Remo stayed behind. “Capone,” he drawled, “Hell of a wife you got in there. Sweet little thing. Pretty eyes. Shame she looks at you like you’re the fucking executioner every time you open your mouth.” My jaw flexed once, enough to taste the inside of my cheek where I bit down hard to stop myself from breaking his teeth right there on the marble floor. “Don’t get me wrong,” he went on, “I admire it. Takes real talent to keep a woman that close when she probably dreams about slitting your throat just to breathe free air again.” He leaned in just enough fo