Lahat ng Kabanata ng STUCK WITH THE MAFIA TWINS: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

The air hung heavy, nothing moved. Did I hear correctly? Did Jonathan just call Nathara his ex wife? I shook my head quickly, refusing to let a second catch me confused. “Come, sit, let’s eat.” I carried on with the smile, gesturing for a maid to approach me. “Take his order and have it ready in ten minutes. I would hate to wait another second.” I dismissed the maid before sitting down with Jonathan. “How have you been Chelsea? I never knew you’d still be here. When Nathara invited me over earlier this month, I didn’t budge because I assumed the house wasn’t in the best head space to receive a visitor due to the massive investment loss at the latest branch opening in France. I see everybody seems to have moved on.” Jonathan beamed, leading me on with a conversation I know nothing about. “I mean, she probably needed some comfort from a warm, safe place; a place she once called home.” I responded, ignoring the fact that both Nathara and Blake and even Ricci are standing rig

“I don’t get it. Who?” Ricci asked, heavily disoriented. “Blake? Your father? Do you not know him anymore?” Olivia laughed, playing her role so well. “Dumb now, aren’t we.” I laughed, arms crossed under my boobs as I watched the brawl. It’s all so crazy. Olivia tried to kill me in spite a while ago and now she’s on my side… temporarily anyways. “I don’t believe you. You came here with Chelsea? Why are you two friends? What’s going on?” Ricci’s disorganized mind has me bawling and kicking with joy. He has absolutely no idea and that’s fucking hilarious. “Ricci,” Nathara called, descending the stairs but stops halfway, catching sight of yet another visitor in her house. “What the fuck is it this time?” “Hiii!!” Olivia greeted in glee, approaching Nathara with a hug but as expected, Nathara didn’t want all that. “Step back. What the hell is going on? Why are you in my house?” Nathara questioned, quite unhappy and unsettled. “Blake invited me over.” Olivia replied, ca

“The Rutherfords’ Oil documents?” My thoughts ran wild. Is this what Jonathan had planned? Why am I separate from this plan? “Were you deaf the first time?” Nathara scowled at me, then paused as though she just remembered something. “Everyone out, I need to speak with Ricci alone.” Without a second to spare, everyone cleared out. I kept dialing Jonathan and Moretti but no one picked up. This is so fucked up. “Chelsea,” Blake called me from a distance, making me realize that Nathara did in fact send him out too. Poor Blake; also his wife’s puppet. “What?” I frowned, not ready for a single word he has to say. “Why are you being harsh? I have something important to say.” He snorted, closing in on the distance between us. “Well?” I dragged, waiting on him. “Where is Matteo?” He asked, lowering his voice. “Why the hell should I know where your son is, Blake?” I squinted, waiting for him to realize how stupid he sounds. “This isn’t about… hold on. Please, where is

The manor was too quiet. Too still. The kind of stillness that meant grief was walking toward us with a grin. I paced in the room, arms folded over my stomach, waiting for Ricci, waiting for answers, waiting for whatever nightmare was supposed to happen next. But no one prepared me for the sound of heavy stomping through the front doors. Nathara. Her wrists were still dusted with the red marks of handcuffs, her lipstick smudged, hair wild, eyes burning the way a hurricane burns before it eats a coastline. A police van’s distant siren faded outside. The guards who escorted her in looked like men who’d seen the devil and lost. Blake rushed down the stairs, panting. “Babe,” Blake called out, walking towards her. “I’m so sorry. I had to call a million people, these new-“ “Shut it, Blake.” Nathara cut through, pissed off as she approached the stairs leading to the other private rooms in the house. “Let’s go to our bedroom so you can sit down and-“ “I SAID SHUT

Chelsea’s POV I bought a cigar from a road side seller and lit it, huffing and puffing, dragging the smoke into my lungs with all my energy. I need to get high and lose myself for a minute. I need to forget self control. I need to feel like my old self again and the thumping sound of a club a few minutes away nicks at my cravings. I doubled my pace, excited for tonight. The club pulsed with bass-heavy music, lights slicing across the smoke like daggers. I let myself move, just for a moment, letting the rhythm take over. For a few minutes, the world outside—the fire, Nathara, the headlines, Ricci gone, Aria gone—didn’t exist. I swayed my hips to a stranger’s smile, took a sip of my drink, and felt the weight in my chest lift just enough to breathe. It was almost enough. Almost. I laughed, leaning on the stranger’s shoulder, letting my hair fall free, letting the alcohol blur the edges of fear and grief. The night was mine, and I could almost pretend I was free. Nob