All Chapters of I Married a Mafia King!: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Rhian and her husband Damon walked side by side along the garden path, the night air cool against her skin. She had expected nothing more than a quiet stroll after dinner, but the warmth of his hand gripping hers caught her off guard.Her first instinct had been to slip her hand away. Damon wasn’t the type to show affection so openly in front of others, and truthfully, neither was she. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to pull free. The way his long fingers wrapped firmly around hers, as though refusing to let her go, made her heart beat faster. She hated how much she liked it.Still, it was impossible to ignore what was happening around them.She felt it before she fully noticed — the subtle change in the air, the hush that followed wherever they went. People along the pathway stopped mid-conversation when they saw them. Small groups scattered near the fountain quickly lowered their voices. Eyes lingered, staring at Damon with a mix of curiosity and something else. Fear

The night stretched across the city like a thick velvet curtain, hiding sins that thrived under its cover. In the heart of the metropolis, a fortress disguised as a penthouse towered above glittering skylines. Behind tinted glass, Damon sat in silence, a glass of brandy in his hand. The world called him many names—ghost, shadow, devil. But tonight, he wanted only one name to remain etched across every border, whispered in every back alley, spoken in hushed tones inside every boardroom: Damon, the Mafia King.It hadn’t always been this way. Once, men dared to cross him. Once, they thought him just another player in the game. But Damon had a philosophy—if they don’t know me, they will learn. If they resist, they will suffer.The phone buzzed against the mahogany desk. A single name lit across the screen: Valerio, head of the Italian syndicate. Damon answered without hesitation.“Your little shipment in Naples,” Damon said, his voice smooth as steel dragged across ice. “You thought I wou

The following morning, Rhian sat in her office, her nerves frayed from a night of little sleep. Her laptop was open to the Glam Perfume dashboard, where sales numbers continued to plummet. Each refresh brought more sinking digits, more furious customer complaints.She barely touched her coffee, her hands trembling as she scrolled through the chaos. What if Damon couldn’t fix this? What if even his influence wasn’t enough to stop the storm?The sharp buzz of her intercom snapped her out of her spiral. Gina’s voice came through, hesitant. “Miss Rhian, Damon’s men are here. They… they say they have something to report.”Before Rhian could respond, the door opened. Two men in black suits entered, their presence cold and efficient. Behind them came Damon himself, calm as always, his steps deliberate, his aura filling the room with controlled menace.One of the suited men placed a thin folder on Rhian’s desk and opened it. “We traced the counterfeit supply line,” he said in a clipped tone.

The silence in Damon’s penthouse was thick that night. The city glittered far below the glass walls, but inside, the tension burned hotter than the neon lights outside.Rhian sat on the couch, documents spread out in front of her. She was exhausted, her eyes bloodshot, but she kept flipping through sales reports, scanning for flaws, revising plans. Damon leaned against the bar across the room, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his sharp gaze fixed on her.“You’re pushing yourself too far,” Damon finally said.Rhian didn’t look up. “And what do you suggest? That I sit back and watch Glam Perfume collapse? I can’t do that, Damon. I won’t.”“I didn’t say do nothing.” His voice was low, commanding. “But you don’t have to do everything alone. That’s why you have me.”She laughed bitterly, setting the papers down. “You mean because of you? Because everyone is terrified of you. Do you even understand what it feels like, Damon? Customers don’t know if Glam Perfume survived because of my hard wo

Rhian smiled wholeheartedly, the corners of her lips softening as her gaze lingered on the lush bouquet in her arms. “What makes you bring this extravagant bouquet?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. She couldn’t hide how happy she was—her chest fluttered in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. For a moment, she forgot everything: her vow to keep distance from Damon, the walls she tried to build between them, the tension that always seemed to surround their marriage.All she could feel was the intoxicating sweetness of roses and the man standing in front of her.Damon’s lips curved into a faint smirk as he watched her cradle the bouquet, almost as if she was holding a treasure. His dark eyes never wavered, fixed on her as if memorizing every flicker of emotion crossing her face. “What makes me bring them?” His voice was low, smooth, carrying that dangerous calm only he possessed. “Simple. Because you deserve them.”Rhian blinked, momentarily stunned by the straightforwar