บททั้งหมดของ I Saved the Mafia Boss—Now I'm His Obsession. : บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 “I can’t believe this is my last morning here… my last breakfast in this kitchen as a single woman, cooking for my boys,” Alessia’s voice broke, as she tried to laugh. Her eyes were puffy, rimmed red from hours of crying. She sniffled, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand, spatula still in the other. Claire was already crying too, and seeing them both like that undid me. My throat tightened, and before I knew it tears were burning down my own face. So there we were, three women standing in a sunlit kitchen, the smell of butter and coffee wrapping around us, all crying over breakfast like the world was ending. Claire swiped her sleeve across her wet cheeks and reached for Alessia’s wrist, tugging her gently until Alessia finally looked up. “Hey,” she said softly, “that’s not true. This doesn’t have to be the last time. You can come back here every single morning. We’ll still be here, we’ll still make breakfast together. You could even drag Rino

Adriano ⫘☠︎︎⫘ I’m going to kill him. One way or another. Remo’s blood will be on my hands, and I don’t care which god or judge has to tally it at the end. I thumbed the file open, and saw Adelina, sitting under a harsh lamp. Her face was the only light in the image, and that calm made me want to smash the phone against the wall and then press it into Remo’s mouth so he could hear it again and again. I hit play. “My name is Adelina Coppola, but I go by Adelina Lombardi...” I didn't care about wrecking weddings but this was tied to Alessia's happiness. The part of me that wanted to protect Alessia screamed to keep this quiet, but the part that wanted to rip Remo out by the roots won, every time. I sent it, straight to Rino's phone, to other families, to the people I knew would leak like a sieve once the water found the first hole. I hit forward, watched the little blue “delivered” bloom. The thing about vengeance is you can dress it however you like but at the heart of it there

Adriano ⫘☠︎︎⫘ The world was upside down when I came to... literally. Blood dripped from my nose, my chest, my mouth, sliding up over my face because gravity is a cruel bastard when you’re hanging by your ankles. The ropes bit into my skin, and every muscle in me screamed, but I didn’t make a sound. Pain was a language I already spoke fluently. I blinked through the haze, vision swimming red, and there he was. Remo Lombardi. Grinning like a wolf who finally cornered his prey. His teeth flashed white in the dim light, his eyes glittering with that arrogance only a man drunk on power could pull off. He looked at me like I was already dead, like he had already carved me into pieces in his mind and was just choosing where to start. “Rise and shine, Capone,” he drawled, pacing slow, like he was on stage. “Though I guess in your case it’s more... hang and bleed.” I spat blood onto the concrete beneath me, lips twisting into a grin that hurt like hell but felt good anyway, “That

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 “I deserve it. I ruined you. I ruined us. And I’m still ruining you… now.” How could he say that? How could he even think it? I wanted to grab him, crush him against me, cover every bruise with my mouth until they disappeared, until he believed he was worth everything to me. But his skin was draining of color, lips I’d kissed a thousand times fading from pink to a sickly blue that made bile claw up my throat. A slick of sweat glazed his temple. The world narrowed to the rhythm of his ribs rising and falling, and terror tunneled through me. I needed to do something. Anything. Move him. Get help. Rip him out of those ropes and run until Remo couldn’t find us. My brain offered frantic lists but my hands refused to obey. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Remo. Just standing there. Cigarette dangling, ash spilling, that slow, satisfied grin twisting his mouth as he watched Adriano bleed out like it was nothing, like it was a show. Just as my hand twitched

Adriano ⫘☠︎︎⫘ The front door swung open like a trap door out of a hole. Two weeks in that glorified coffin called the hospital and they still hadn't had the balls to officially call me "recovered." Screw that noise. I wasn't waiting for a medical blessing. My ribs clicked like broken dice every time I moved, the stitches burned, and my lungs still sounded like a wiped-out diesel engine. But I was on my feet. I was walking. That was all the green light I needed. "Jesus, boss, you should be flat on your—" Meatball tried to start. "Shut up," I grunted, hauling my busted ass past him. Every step was a fresh spike of pain. Meatball followed, "You're walking like you got a broomstick shoved up your back, boss. You gotta take it easy." I stopped, turning to glare at him. The motion sent a shockwave through my ribs, “Easy? ‘Easy’ is for the dead, Meatball. ‘Easy’ is what got me in that hospital in the first place,” I leaned on the car door, trying to catch my breath, “Now open the god