Alle Kapitel von My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent : Kapitel 121 – Kapitel 130

DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE NIGHTI wanted to be wrecked. I wanted to be ruined and built again and marked like property. I wanted her to take me the way she’d taken everything else she wanted, precise, brutal, personal. When the gun skittered across the floor and the metal clinked like a surrender, I felt my breath change. Adrenaline was still raw but under it something cleaner rose, want shaped like a blade.She moved first. Of course she moved first. Catalina doesn’t wait for permission when she wants to own something.She climbed me like a tide. Her mouth was at my throat before my hands had time to register, lips hot, teeth grazing the pulse there. God, the way she kissed, claiming, not asking. Her hands flattened on my chest and pushed, forcing me back into the mattress, and when her mouth found mine it wasn’t some gentle, cautious tasting. It was a hard, wet thing that tasted of blood and

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE AFTERNOON The knock came just as I expected, two sharp raps, not tentative, not commanding. Nico’s timing was precise as always, and Carlos… well, Carlos never arrived alone if he could help it.I rose from the couch, Dante still beside me, his palm heavy on my thigh, reminding me of where I belonged even as he bristled with suspicion.The door opened, and there they were, Nico in his usual relaxed posture, smirk tugging his lips, eyes already assessing Dante like a hawk circling prey. And Carlos, my Carlos, my baby brother, stepping in with a grin too bright for a world this dark.For a beat, silence. Tension coiled thick in the air.“Carlos,” I breathed, and before Dante could tighten his grip, I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around my brother. No masks. No hesitation. Just me.His arms squeezed me back, almost crushing, almost childlike. “Sorellina,” he sai

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE AFTERNOON Nikolai set another envelope on the table, thicker than the first. I reached for it, sliding the contents out. Photographs, typed reports, scribbled notes. Evidence smelled faintly of ink and steel, it always did.“This,” I said, spreading the pictures across the glass table, “is from the ambush. Timas Reznikov. Russian.”The name thickened the air. Nico leaned forward, snatching a page with the man’s profile. His smirk was sharp, but his tone carried disdain.“Timas Reznikov,” Nico drawled. “The brat who thinks he’s a predator when the lions aren’t around. Big name back home, sure, but reputation’s all muscle, no brain. His tactics are brutal, impulsive. He doesn’t hunt equals, he preys on weakness. That ambush?” He tapped the photograph of shattered glass at the restaurant. “Impulse. He wanted a trophy. To show the Executioner he’s worth sitting at the table.”My fingers tr

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - CLUBNIGHT The bass from the club rattled through my chest, shaking the walls like a caged animal trying to break free. Timas Reznikov sat in the center of it all, lounging on his velvet chair like a little czar. His laughter was obnoxious, full of cheap liquor and cheap confidence. He had no idea what was walking through the doors.Carlos didn’t waste time. My brother cut straight across the crowded floor, past the startled women clinging to Timas, and grabbed him by the collar. The brat barely had time to choke before Carlos dragged him off his throne, glass shattering and curses flying as he was yanked toward the doors.The music stuttered, died. The entire club seemed to hold its breath as Timas was shoved into the street like the rat he was.The night was cool, the air smelling of smoke, gasoline, and anticipation. Timas stumbled, hitting the stones hard, his tailore

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE BACK IN ITALY The jet touched down with the weight of plans already spilling from my head.Dante’s hand lingered on mine as we stepped out onto Italian ground, but soon after, we parted, our battlefield split in two. He with Malcolm to his Lucchese empire, Nico to his cold Mareni fortress, and I, Moretti bound, Carlos and Nikolai flanking me like my loyal shadows.The car ride to the estate was quiet except for the sound of wheels grinding against gravel. When the iron gates opened, I felt something I hadn’t in years: a home sharpened, disciplined. My family’s name no longer lingered in dust and shame, Carlos had been polishing it with blood, sweat, and loyalty.“Call them,” I told him, stepping out of the car. My heels struck the marble steps with the certainty of a gavel. “Every captain. I want to see with my own eyes what you’ve shaped here.”Carlos’ eyes flicked toward me