All Chapters of Mafia King’s Regret: Winning Rebellious Bride Back: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Roman adjusted the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, his jawline freshly shaven, his movements calm and composed—like nothing had happened like he hadn’t just made her lose herself beneath him moments ago. Vera walked beside him, just as put together. Her navy-blue dress hugged her modestly, the scarf around her neck carefully arranged to conceal the fresh bruises and marks Roman had left behind with his mouth and hands. Her hair was combed into a neat low bun, and her lipstick was a soft peach that betrayed none of the passion she had lived through the night before. But her skin still remembered. Everything he’d done to her behind that closed door—the kiss under the shower, the way he lifted her like she weighed nothing, the way he whispered “mine” into her mouth again and again—still throbbed beneath the surface. She hadn’t expected any of it. And the man who had once ignored her presence was now kissing her five times before they even left the bedroom. It was terrifying… and confus

The sea breeze had cooled by the time Vera stepped into the beach house. The laughter from earlier still echoed faintly in her chest, but the air inside told a different story.Leila and Dimitry veered off to their side of the property, chatting lazily. Dimitry had casually mentioned that Roman wouldn’t be joining them—that “Work came up.” No one questioned it, not even Vera.But the moment she opened the door to her side of the villa, she knew something was wrong.The warm, flickering glow of candles should have felt welcoming—but it didn’t. Not with crushed petals scattered across the floor, wine dripping in dark streaks from a smashed bottle, glass catching the candlelight like sharp little stars. The scent of roses had turned sour in the heat.In the far corner, where they had shared a drink just the night before, Roman sat slouched in an armchair, a half-emptied bottle in his hand.His other hand rested on the lamp switch—click, click—turning the light off, then on. Off. Then on

Vera finally stirred, the first thing she felt was cool, crisp linen against her skin. She blinked into a bright, white ceiling, then realized she was lying in a hospital-style bed, the duvet pulled up to her chin. Everything smelled familiar. Pain throbbed at her wrist in dull, insistent waves, and she realized her other hand was free of bandages, tucked under the covers.Soft footsteps approached. A woman in crisp white scrubs hovered at her side, clipboard in hand, and behind her stood a man in a white coat, a stethoscope slung around his neck.“Good afternoon, Ms. Bendetti,” the woman said gently, offering a warm smile. “I’m Dr. Varela. How are you feeling right now?”Vera’s throat was dry. She swallowed before answering. “Tired. A little… disoriented.”Dr. Varela stepped forward, voice calm and steady. “That’s to be expected. You fainted likely from a combination of dehydration and shock from your burn injuries. We’ve cleaned and dressed your wounds, given you fluids, and monitor

Morning came, Roman woke up, his head pounding from the aftereffects of last night’s alcohol. He blinked against the sharp light filtering through the open curtains—sunlight stabbing into the room like tiny needles.He noticed a shift in the air before he saw her.She was already up, moving quietly around the room. He watched her without saying a word. She didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge he was awake. Instead, she sat near the dresser, unwrapping the bandage from her hand with steady fingers.Roman’s jaw tightened as he saw the raw skin beneath. She reached for the ointment and applied it herself. A soft hiss escaped her lips, the only sound in the room.Through the mirror, her eyes briefly met his—but only for a second. She looked away just as quickly.He got up and walked to her without speaking. Kneeling in front of her, he gently took her injured hand. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her. His grip wasn’t harsh—just firm enough to stop her resistance.She didn’t un

Roman glanced at his watch. Midnight. He leaned back slightly, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but he didn’t allow himself the luxury of rest for more than a few seconds. A sharp thud echoed somewhere in the house, a sound too deliberate to be ignored. A moment later, the lights went out. The entire estate was swallowed in darkness. His expression didn’t change. There was no panic, no hesitation. He reached into the bedside drawer and retrieved his gun, the metal cool and familiar in his hand. He pressed the intercom button. Silence, of course. He stood, moving through the room with quiet precision, not a single movement wasted. Crossing to the window, he unlatched it just enough to glimpse the exterior. Moonlight poured in, casting silver over the front courtyard—and over the motionless bodies of two guards stationed at the main entrance. One was slumped forward against the gate; the other lay face-down on the ground, neither moved. Roman’s jaw flexed once. Whoever had come this