Lahat ng Kabanata ng Obsession of the Mafia King: Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

The ballroom had been scrubbed clean of blood, the marble polished to erase the streaks of violence that had nearly claimed both Dante and Amara only nights before. Yet no amount of polish could wash away the unease that lingered in the air. The walls themselves seemed to hum with a silent warning, as if they too knew that the storm was not over.Dante sat at the head of the long dining table, his posture rigid, his jaw locked. He had not slept in two days, and yet he looked like a king carved from stone—unyielding, cold, and dangerous. To his right, Amara leaned back in her chair, a glass of deep red wine swirling lazily in her hand. Her beauty had sharpened in recent months, molded by fire and battle, but there was a brittleness to her smile tonight.Opposite them sat three men—strangers, yet not.The one in the middle, with slicked-back hair and sharp cheekbones, leaned forward. His voice was smooth as silk but carried an undercurrent of menace.“Don Dante. Signora Amara. We come

The sea outside their villa stretched endlessly, a sheet of black velvet rippling under the moonlight. The empire that Dante and Amara had built together seemed—for the first time—both untouchable and unbearably fragile. The blood of their enemies had crowned them king and queen, but peace had never been promised. The world of power was always shifting, always waiting to tear apart whatever they held dear.It was Amara who felt it first—the silence. The unusual stillness in their territories. Normally, their network pulsed with whispers: movements of allies, reports from spies, complaints from foot soldiers, streams of information that never stopped flowing. Now, days passed with only the most carefully curated messages reaching them.“Someone is controlling what we hear,” Amara murmured one night as she looked over the reports on her desk. She didn’t need to explain; Dante’s sharp eyes had already caught the gaps.Dante leaned against the edge of the desk, cigarette dangling between

The villa was quiet, too quiet. Silence had never been a comfort in Dante and Amara’s world—it was either the sign of safety or the prelude to blood. Tonight, it felt like the latter. The empire was theirs, the enemies crushed, yet the sense of unease gnawed at the back of Amara’s mind like a shadow that refused to let go.She stood before the massive windows of their private chamber, the night stretched over the city like a velvet cloak. Below, their soldiers patrolled, their cars prowled, their name carried weight that made rivals tremble. And yet, inside her chest, there was no triumph. Only questions.Amara’s fingers traced the edge of her wine glass as she thought of the path she had walked. Once, she had been the girl torn from her life, forced into the game of kings and killers. Now she was the queen—her word shaping the future of their empire. Power had filled her veins like fire, intoxicating and damning. But with every step she took deeper into this world, she could feel pa

The night air was heavy with the scent of smoke and iron, the lingering remnants of the last skirmish still staining the streets of Naples. Amara stood on the balcony of their stronghold, her hands gripping the stone railing until her knuckles whitened. From up here, the city glowed like a wound—fires smoldering, broken glass glittering, and the cries of the desperate echoing into the dark.Behind her, Dante’s footsteps were measured, deliberate, like a predator stalking the silence. He had grown quieter in recent weeks, his rage contained but seething like a furnace beneath the surface. The attack two nights ago had proven what they both already knew: there was someone else moving pieces against them. Someone smarter, colder, and more patient than Lorenzo had ever been.Amara didn’t turn when Dante finally spoke.“They call him Il Diavolo,” Dante said, his voice like gravel. “The Devil. An old ghost. I thought he was buried years ago, but now… now he crawls out of the shadows.”Her j

The night weighed heavy with tension. From the balcony of their fortified estate, Amara stared out at the city below, its streets lit by the orange glow of fire. Dante stood beside her, his jaw clenched, watching as their empire seemed to fracture under their very gaze.“What’s happening to us?” Amara’s voice was low, almost drowned out by the distant roar of sirens and gunfire. “We bled for this throne. We burned the world for it. And yet… it feels like it’s slipping away.”Dante turned to her, his dark eyes full of both fire and exhaustion. “It isn’t slipping. It’s being ripped from us. Piece by piece. By enemies we can’t yet see.”In the weeks since Matteo’s betrayal and the revelation of hidden enemies in the shadows, their empire had not known a single moment of peace. Riots erupted in districts that once bowed easily. Trusted lieutenants whispered their loyalty even as doubt gleamed in their eyes. And worse, shipments were being intercepted, cash disappearing, and territories s