All Chapters of My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE GALA NIGHT The gala hall glittered like sin wrapped in chandeliers.Crystal light bled over velvet curtains, over marble floors polished until they reflected every pair of shoes that dared cross them. The air hummed with voices low and dangerous, laughter edged with knives. Every don had already staked out their corners, grouped by borders, by language, by flags they would never lower.Italy’s men stood together, wine in hand, laughter too loud, as though claiming dominance by sheer volume. Across the room, Russia’s contingent mirrored them in silence, their stillness saying more than words could. Other nations filled in the gaps, Spain, France, Colombia, America, each pack self-contained, wary eyes darting not just to enemies, but to potential allies. Rivalries didn’t matter tonight. Geography did.Dante’s hand was iron at my waist as we stepped through the gilded doorway

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE SUITEWe leave the gala like a dark comet cutting through polite constellations. Dante’s patience snapped where stares hardened into hunger and words into knives. No one stopped him; no one wanted to test him.Nico caught my eye as we passed the last cluster of men. I nodded once, short, sharp. Remember faces. Watch tells. He understood. He was already working the room even as we left; his grin was a blade disguised as mischief. The lift hummed up through the hotel like the last quiet before an engine screams. Malcolm and Nikolai stayed a pace behind, dutiful shadows until we reached the suite. The door shut with the soft click of a lock that would not be tested. Dante didn’t look at them when he told them to hold position. His voice was iron. “Outside. Don’t move.”When they were gone, the suite swallowed the rest of the world. The door sealed us in, and Dante’s face snapped to mine with the look I’d

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE PARIS, FRANCE NIGHTMalcolm emerged from the shadows, pistol still in hand, scanning the wreckage like a wolf checking for stragglers. He glanced at Dante, gave a small nod. “Clear. For now.”Nikolai followed, lowering his weapon but keeping it drawn. He looked as calm as if we’d just finished dinner.Dante helped me up, guiding me with that unyielding hand on my waist. The grip was too tight, as if checking I was real, alive, his.Malcolm pulled a card from his jacket and pressed it into the trembling hand of the restaurant’s owner, who had crawled out from cover. His voice was clipped, professional. “Call this number. List damages. Medical bills if any staff were hurt. All will be covered.”The man stammered his thanks, but Malcolm didn’t wait. He turned on his heel, sharp, and Dante ushered me forward.We left the shattered restaurant and stepped into the night air. The silence of Par

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE PARIS, FRANCE NIGHTThe conference hall felt colder once Henri’s words settled in the air. Reznikov was after her.Dante’s hand tightened on my thigh like a lock, but his silence pressed harder than his grip. I could almost hear his fury building, his thoughts clawing against the walls of his restraint. He wanted answers, from Henri, from Reznikov, from me.I knew the act wouldn’t hold anymore. The mask had cracks, and now it was useless to keep patching it. If they were already aiming at me openly, then the truth had to surface on my terms, not theirs.I rose from my seat with deliberate calm. Every eye in the hall followed me as if the air itself shifted direction. For years, I’d worn the veil of the perfect wife, soft-spoken, obedient, unseen. Now I moved like La Rosa Nera, the woman who owned every room she stepped into.Dante’s gaze tracked me, confusion sharp in his star

DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE NIGHTI stared at her, my wife, my enemy, my goddamn salvation and damnation wrapped in silk and lies. And then, I laughed.Not the kind that hides fury. Not the sharp edge of control. No. This laugh burned out of my chest like a release, tearing away the rage that had been choking me since the moment I put the pieces together. It was relief. Pure, savage relief.“Christ,” I cursed, voice raw, loud enough to split the silence. “That’s why. That’s why every time I laid eyes on La Rosa Nera, my body fucking reacted. My blood knew. My instincts knew. That pull, that rage, that goddamn obsession, it wasn’t split in two.” I dragged my hand through my hair, still laughing. “It was always you. Always my wife. My enemy. My obsession. The same woman after all.”She watched me. No guilt. No pleading. Her smile, the one she reserves for the moments she wants to cut me, spread slow and sure. It was the sm