บททั้งหมดของ Claimed by the Mafia King : บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Alessia’s POVThe mall’s sliding doors hissed open, and I strutted out like I owned the entire place. Not to brag, but the mirrors inside hadn’t lied—I looked amazing.My reflection practically whispered, Alessia, you’re a masterpiece. My hair was falling in perfect waves, my lips were just glossy enough to look like I didn’t try too hard, and the outfit? Forget about it. Somewhere, fashion gods were weeping with pride.It was the perfect Diva outfit for Porta Inferni. With a mask over my face for extra safety, no one would ever think I was a doctor.I was about two seconds away from hailing a cab and basking in my own fabulousness when a sleek, very-familiar car cut me off like it was auditioning for Fast & Furious.The window rolled down, painfully slow, and there he was. Leo. Arms on the steering wheel, a frown etched on his face, eyes locked on me like I had just been caught sneaking out after curfew. Which was kind of the situation I was in.I froze, mid-step. “Oh, come on. Reall

Alessia’s POVAlmost at the same moment, we both reached up and pulled our masks down.My breath caught.“…Lloyd?” I whispered, his name tumbling from my lips before I could stop it.His eyes widened, shock mirroring mine."Alessia?" He muttered, his voice etched with shock and disbelief.I couldn't believe this. I wasn't mistaken at all. Lloyd—the Lloyd from high school, my Romeo—was in front of me.For a second we just stared at each other, frozen in time, before instinct took over. I screamed. Not a horror scream, not even a panic scream, and definitely not so loud. It was the kind of scream that bursts out when the universe decides to play a wild joke on you.I launched myself at him, nearly knocking over the stool he sat on. We hugged, tight and breathless, like no time had passed.“I can’t believe it’s you,” I babbled, pulling back just enough to look at him properly. His hair was a little longer now, his jaw sharper, but his eyes—those same warm, mischievous eyes—were unchange

Alessia’s POV“I don’t understand what you mean,” I said, my brows knitting as I searched Lloyd’s face for some hint of a joke.Like... it all had to be.My mind drifted back to that night.It had been late. I had just gotten back from my part-time shift at the diner, my feet aching, my clothes still smelling faintly of fried oil and coffee. The Fosters' home was quiet. Too quiet.I remember pushing open the door to the boys’ room without knocking, the way I always did. “Ale?” I called softly, stepping into the dark. The curtains were drawn, the moonlight barely cutting through. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”He didn’t answer.Something about the silence made my stomach twist.“Alessandro?” I tried again, taking another step forward. My hand reached for the switch, but his voice stopped me.“Don’t.”I froze, blinking into the shadows. “But it’s dark, Ale. You’ll ruin your eyes sitting here like that.”“Leave it,” he said, his voice colder this time. “Just… get out, Alessia. Being

Alessia’s POVThe words sliced through me like a knife. I felt my jaw tighten, my nails digging into my palms.“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” I said, my voice lower, steadier than I felt.But Lloyd didn’t back down. His eyes held mine, calm and merciless. “I’m not insulting him, Alessia. I’m telling you the truth. Alessandro is brave, maybe too brave. But bravery gets people killed in this world. And if he keeps digging into the Morettis, into whatever web he thinks he’s unraveling—he won’t just get himself killed. He’ll drag you into it too.”“Don’t,” I snapped.The word came out sharper than I meant, slicing through the air between us. My voice had an edge I didn’t quite recognize, but maybe that was fitting. I was past the point of pleasantries. “You don't know anything about my brother. So don't say shit about him when you don't know him.”Lloyd leaned back, one brow arched as though I had just told him the punchline to a joke. “I don’t know anything about him, Ales

Chapter 69 Alessia’s POV Damiano's shirt was open, streaked with blood that wasn’t his. His hair hung in damp strands over his forehead. There was something terrifyingly calm about him—like the eye of a hurricane that had already torn through everything else.The glass tilted slightly in his hand, a faint, dark smile touching his lips.“Welcome home, Dottoressa,” he said softly.Damiano didn’t look toward me or Leo. He stood there—utterly still—his head slightly bowed, eyes fixed on a spot on the marble floor. The silence in the room stretched, brittle and suffocating. Even the faint hum of the air conditioning sounded too loud.I took a hesitant step forward, following his gaze, and then I saw it—droplets of blood. Small, dark, drying into the pale marble.Why was he so focused on that spot when half the house was covered in blood?When I looked back up, Damiano’s eyes had shifted—they were on me now.For a long moment, neither of us spoke.He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t eve