Semua Bab My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent : Bab 161 - Bab 170

170 Bab

Hiding to Protect

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE VERONA, ITALY The Verona estate’s dining room glowed under the morning sun, the air thick with the scent of espresso and fresh bread. Dante and I sat close, our bond forged tighter after last night’s raw talk about Leona and the Executioner’s schemes. His hand rested on mine, thumb tracing my knuckles, a silent claim that grounded me. But with a baby growing inside me, the stakes were higher, and our inner circle needed to know. I’d called Nico and Carlos to the estate without explaining why, my voice sharp enough to pull them here fast. The Executioner’s shadow loomed, and secrecy was our armor. Nico arrived first, striding in with that boyish grin, his leather jacket slung over one shoulder. “What’s the emergency, Catalina?” he asked, dropping onto the leather couch, his eyes flicking between Dante and me. The grin faltered when he cau

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-01

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Appearances For Show

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Weeks 8 to 12 of pregnancyTrue to my word, I never vanished.La Rosa Nera does not hide.By day I was Dante’s wife: flawless, untouchable, gliding through Verona’s boutiques in silk dresses that skimmed the tiny curve still hidden beneath tailored coats. Paparazzi snapped photos outside Bulgari while I tried on diamond earrings worth more than most men’s yearly blood money. I smiled for the cameras, let them print headlines about the Lucchese queen “spoiling herself,” and kept the champagne flute tilted to my lips without ever swallowing a drop. Dante’s arm stayed locked around my waist, fingers splayed low on my hip, a silent warning to every photographer and curious onlooker: look, but never too close.By night I was still La Rosa Nera, just smarter.I rode in the back of armored SUVs, windows blacked out, visiting the docks, the warehouses, the clubs that paid us tribute.

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-02

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Her Crazy Cravings

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Weeks 12 to 16The cravings hit like a sniper round: sudden, violent, and impossible to ignore.The first one came at 3:17 a.m.I woke up with my mouth watering for something I hadn’t eaten since I was twelve: the sour cherry gelato from the little shop near the old arena, the one Nonna used to buy me after Sunday mass. Not just any cherry gelato. That exact one. Hand-churned, tart enough to make your eyes water, served in a paper cup with a tiny wooden spoon.Dante was already sitting up when I rolled over, eyes glowing in the dark.“Tell me,” he said, voice rough from sleep.“Sour cherry gelato. From Gelateria Savoia. Now.”He was out of bed, pulling on jeans before I finished the sentence. “Keys,” he muttered, dialing Malcolm at the same time. Twenty minutes later the gates opened and a blacked-out G-Wagon rolled in with two kilos of the stuff packed in dry ice.

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-03

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Five Months In and Trouble

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Week 20The afternoon light was soft, slanting through the tall windows of the living room. I was sprawled sideways on the biggest sofa, feet up, a bowl of blood-orange segments balanced on my five-month bump, scrolling through nothing on my phone while the baby practiced kickboxing against my ribs. The house was quiet; Dante was in Milan closing a port deal, Nikolai and Matteo were running perimeter checks, and the staff knew better than to disturb me unless the villa was on fire.The front doors banged open so hard the chandelier trembled.Nico stormed in without knocking, without greeting the guards, without even taking off his sunglasses. His boots thundered across the marble like gunfire. I sat up slowly, the bowl sliding to the cushion.“Catalina.” One word, clipped, urgent. He stopped in front of me, chest rising fast. “We have a problem.”I set the bowl aside, wiping j

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-04

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A Monster's Reawakening

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Late afternoon, Week 20The Maybach hadn’t even come to a full stop when Dante exploded out of it, jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled, tie long gone. The guards scattered. I stood in the archway between the foyer and the living room, one hand supporting the small of my back, the other resting on the unmistakable curve of my belly.He saw me and the distance vanished.Three strides and his hands were on my face, eyes feral, scanning for wounds that weren’t there.“Catalina.” My name cracked in his throat. “Tell me you’re all right.”“I’m all right, tesoro,” I said, calm, steady. “We’re all right.”He dropped his forehead to mine, breath ragged. “Seven days. Fucking. Days.”Behind him, the front doors were still open. Nico stepped through them like he owned the threshold; slow, deliberate, no hurry at all. Black coat sweeping the marble, hands in pockets, the lazy sm

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-05

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The Executioner In Italy's Soil

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – 3:12 a.m., Week 20The estate had become a living, breathing war machine.Every motion sensor was live, every camera hot, every dog straining at its leash. The night air outside vibrated with the low thrum of Nico’s drones, their red anti-collision lights sweeping the sky like blood across black glass.Dante had carried me upstairs hours ago, refusing to let my feet touch the floor longer than strictly necessary. He was in the shower, steam billowing out of the marble bathroom, trying to scrub the Milan dust and the rage off his skin. I sat propped against a mountain of pillows, silk robe loose over the unmistakable curve of my belly, one hand absently tracing the latest stretch marks while the baby practiced somersaults.The encrypted tablet on the nightstand flared to life with Nico’s private tone: three short, one long. The sound that meant drop everything.I answ

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-06

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The Threat on the Unborn

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – 4:47 a.m., Week 20The war room was a cathedral of red light and cold steel.Nico stood at the center like a priest about to deliver last rites, hands dancing across three keyboards at once. Dante and I flanked him, shoulder to shoulder, both of us armed to the teeth. My Glock pressed against the small of my back; Dante’s hand never left the custom 1911 on his hip. The baby had gone eerily still, as if listening.Nico didn’t look up when he spoke.“Voronin just cashed in every favor he’ll ever have. Three dead oligarchs, one suicide in Lubyanka, and a retired GRU colonel who pissed himself on camera. We have the full file.”He hit a key.The wall lit up with a single service photograph, 1998.A boy, barely eighteen, in cadet uniform. Same scar, still pink and fresh, slicing from left eye to cheekbone. Name redacted. Birthplace redacted. Only one lin

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-07

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The Executioner, Reliving Her Past

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Weeks 21–23He no longer skulked.He walked in broad daylight, coat open, scar bared to the sun, and let every camera in Italy drink him in.Nico’s feeds became a private gallery of obsession.Monday – 09:14Via Mazzini, Verona.Outside Tessabit, where I bought the emerald silk gown for the Mosconi gala six months ago.He stood in the exact spot the paparazzi had caught me, hands loose at his sides, staring at the window display that still featured the same dress on a mannequin. He reached out, gloved fingertip tracing the glass where my reflection had once been. Security stepped forward. He turned, looked straight into Nico’s traffic-light lens, and gave that small, civilized smile. Then walked away.Tuesday – 14:07Gelateria Savoia, Verona.The corner table I claimed every Sunday before I got pregnant.He sat, ordered two cones: so

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-08

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She's Abducted

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Week 24, 03:14 a.m.Four days of absolute silence.No shadows.No drones.No whispers in the streets.Even Nico’s empire of ears went deaf.The Executioner had vanished like smoke through a keyhole.We let ourselves believe, for one dangerous heartbeat, that he had retreated.We were wrong.The first canister shattered the kitchen skylight at 03:14.The second punched through the ballroom’s French doors.The third rolled down the grand staircase like a child’s toy.Colorless, odorless, merciless.I was in the bedroom, barefoot in one of Dante’s black shirts, reaching for water, when the glass exploded behind me.A soft hiss.Then the world tilted.Dante was already moving, gun in hand, roaring my name.He reached me in two strides, yanked me against his chest, hand over my mouth and nose, dragging me backward toward the stud

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-09

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She's Inside The Lion's Den

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – Day 3 after abduction I woke to the steady beep of a monitor and the sting of a needle in my left hand. Dextrose. Saline. Fetal heart-rate monitor strapped across my belly. The room smelled of antiseptic and cedar. Heavy velvet drapes blocked all daylight, but a single lamp painted everything in muted gold. I kept my eyes closed, breathing slow, counting heartbeats. The door opened with a soft click. Footsteps: light, feminine, rubber-soled. A woman’s voice, low, professional. “Pressure stable. Fetal heartbeat one-fifty-five. Perfect.” She adjusted the drip. I waited until her back turned. Then I moved. I ripped the needle from my vein; blood sprayed across white sheets; and launched myself off the bed. Pain shot up my arm, b

Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-12-10

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