My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 171 - チャプター 180

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – Weeks 25–27 The days blurred into a velvet cage. Gavriil never raised his voice. He never forced his mouth on mine. He never dragged me to his bed. He simply… became my husband. He woke me every morning with a soft knock and a tray he carried himself: warm milk with orange blossom honey, fresh figs, whatever craving I’d murmured in my sleep the night before. He sat on the edge of my bed and watched me eat, eyes drinking in every bite like it was communion. He brushed my hair when it tangled. He knelt to slip socks on my swollen feet. He read to me in Russian and Italian, voice low, fingers tracing idle circles on my belly while the baby kicked against his palm. And he never let anyone else look at me. I learned that the hard way on the seventh day. I had w

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – Week 30The bed was no longer mine alone.Some time after the twenty-eighth week, Gavriil simply stopped leaving. He would bathe, change into black silk pajama bottoms, and slide in on the left side as if he had always belonged there. He never crossed the invisible line down the middle. He never touched me beyond a hand resting on the swell of my belly, feeling our child kick, eyes closed in something that looked disturbingly like peace.I let him. Because fighting over sheets was not the war I was fighting.By week thirty he began taking me outside the mansion.First to the cliff-side terrace at sunrise, then to the armored convoy that waited like a black serpent in the courtyard.He wanted to show me his empire.First stop: the Aurora Casino, his crown jewel on the Sochi waterfront. Crystal chandeliers, blackjack tables inlaid with mot

TRIGGER WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EROTIC BRUTALITY.BE WARNED!GAVRIIL’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – 03:11 a.m., after the galaThe drive home was silent.Catalina sat beside me, hands folded over the swell of our son, staring out at the black sea.She had smiled for Voronin.Laughed softly at something he said.Touched Cynthia’s arm like old friends.I watched every second of it.When we reached the mansion I carried her upstairs myself, ignoring her quiet protest that she could walk.I laid her in our bed, pulled the silk sheets to her shoulders, brushed her hair from her face the way she allowed only me to do.“Sleep, rosa mia,” I whispered.She closed her eyes obediently.The moment her breathing evened out, I left.Down the hidden staircase.Past the retinal scanner.Into the basement chamber; soundproof, and windowless.The do

ROMAN VORONIN’S PERSPECTIVE ST. PETERSBURG – Night after the galaThe call connected on the second ring.“Nico, speaker. Now,” I ordered the moment his voice came through.A soft click. Then Dante’s ragged breathing filled the line, raw as an open wound.“Roman,” Dante rasped. “Talk to me.”I leaned back in the leather chair, the phone in one hand, the other tangled in Cynthia’s dark hair as she knelt between my thighs. Her mouth was already on me, slow and deliberate, but I kept my voice perfectly steady.“She’s alive. Breathing. Strong. Week thirty-four and carrying well.” I paused, letting the words cut. “It’s a boy, Dante. You’re having a son.”Silence. Then a sound like a man being flayed alive.“Fuck!” Dante choked. “A son…”Nico cursed in Italian, low and vicious.I continued, merciless.“Her exact words: ‘Tell Dante I’m all right. We’re having

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – Week 38The contractions started as a whisper, a faint tightening in my lower belly, like a hand gently squeezing, then releasing. I was in the library, curled in an armchair with a book I wasn’t reading, pretending to rest while Gavriil worked at his desk across the room. The first one came and went, mild enough to ignore. I shifted, hand on my belly, feeling our son stir. But the second hit sharper, a ripple that stole my breath. By the third, they were coming every ten minutes, repetitive, insistent.Gavriil noticed before I said a word. His head snapped up, eyes locking on my face as I winced. “Rosa mia?” He was across the room in an instant, kneeling beside me, hand pressing to my belly. “It’s time?”I nodded, gritting my teeth as another wave built. “Contractions. Mild, but… getting stronger.”He didn’t hesitate. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing, his