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Todos os capítulos de The Mafia Devil’s Wrong Bride: Capítulo 161 - Capítulo 170

204 Capítulos

160

Annalissa HaleI wake up to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the faint, steady beeping of a monitor. My eyelids feel glued shut, heavy. It takes real effort to pry them open.White ceiling. Fluorescent lights. A soft humming from somewhere above.Hospital.My throat tightens. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry, cotton-like. I inhale, and the cold air burns all the way down my lungs. I shift, trying to sit up, and a wave of weakness hits me so sharply that I have to grab the railing of the bed before I topple sideways.I blink through the dizziness, trying to piece together memories.The stairs.The pain.The blood, so much blood, instantly pooling beneath me.My phone in my hand. Clarissa’s panicked voice. Sirens.A paramedic squeezing my hand, telling me, “Stay awake, ma’am, stay with us, deep breath, good, deep breaths.”Then, darkness.My breath hitches. I reach automatically for my stomach. My trembling hand presses against my gown, across the soft rise of my abdomen and

161

Annalissa HaleI’ve lost count of the days.Some mornings I wake up convinced it’s only been a few hours since the night everything went wrong. Other mornings, it feels like months. But it has only been weeks. Weeks of walking down sterilized hallways with a knot in my throat. Weeks of pressing my palms to cool glass because I couldn’t touch my own children. Weeks of telling myself it’s temporary, that they just need a little more time, while my heart ached in ways I didn’t even know were possible.I never imagined the beginning of motherhood would look like this.I come to the hospital every day, no matter how tired I am, no matter how much my body begs me to stay in bed. Clarissa brings me breakfast most mornings and drags me outside to breathe fresh air. Since Ronan is currently in town, he drops every now and then with his bags of baby clothes he claims he “accidentally” bought. He always says he didn’t plan to. I never believe him.Ivan has also visited twice. He insisted on a

162

Dante Romano The study is silent except for the low hum of the ventilation and the faint ticking of the antique clock behind me. Months ago, this room used to feel warm. Now it feels like a tomb I’ve willingly locked myself inside. Papers are spread across my desk, territory reports, security memos, lists of debts owed and debts collected. Everything I used to delegate, I now monitor myself. It’s easier to work until dawn than to remember the sound of a heartbeat that no longer exists. There’s a slight knock on my door. It’s Connor. “Enter,” I say without looking up. He steps in. He’s been tense around me ever since… everything. He places a slim stack of files on my desk. “They’re the updates you requested,” he says. “And…” He hesitates before adding, “…we received word that Don Vitalli wants to initiate a meeting with you.” I lean back. “Declined.” Connor clears his throat softly. “He insists it’s urgent. He wants to discuss the boundary dispute before things escalate.” “The

163

Annalissa Hale The cursor on my screen blinks like it’s impatient with me. I shift slightly in my seat at the dining table, smoothing the blouse that I definitely did not iron, and force a professional smile as the client on the Zoom call continues talking about projected conversions and engagement metrics. “Yes, exactly,” I say, nodding. “If we shift your launch content from a traditional funnel approach to a value-driven narrative, you’ll see immediate improvement. Your audience responds best when the story feels personal.” The client, a woman in her mid-forties with glasses too big for her face, hums approvingly. “Good, good. I like the direction you’re pointing us in, Mrs Hale.” I smile again, tighter this time. I’m listening, I’m focused, I’m competent, but in the back of my mind, a tiny prayer circle is happening. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. I glance at the wall clock. One minute and forty seconds left. Just a little longer. “Eve

164

Annalissa Hale The onions sizzle loudly in the pan, releasing a soft, buttery aroma that fills the small apartment. I stir slowly, letting the wooden spoon scrape gently against the bottom. Cooking has become one of my few peaceful routines. Something predictable. Something that doesn’t cry or wail or need to be burped. Behind me, soft baby noises hum from the crib in the living room, little sighs and murmurs from Hania and Kian. They’re still asleep. Thank God. The front door clicks open. “I’m home!” Clarissa calls, tired but cheerful. I smile over my shoulder. “You’re right on time. Dinner’s almost ready.” Her heels clack against the wooden floor as she slips off her shoes and sets her bag down. She walks over to me and peeks into the pan. “Mmm, smells amazing. If I didn’t love you, I’d be jealous of your cooking skills.” I laugh. “If I didn’t love you, I’d charge you for dinner.” She snorts and waves me off before heading toward the living room. “Let me see my babies.” I h

165

Dante Romano Connor drives ahead of me as the Romano convoy cuts through late-afternoon traffic. The Vitalli estate sits at the edge of town, a sprawling old-world mansion that tries too hard to look timeless. I’ve always hated it. They wanted a peace meeting. Fine. I’ll give them one. I walk through the grand double doors with Connor at my shoulder. Armed men line the hallway pretending not to grip their guns too tightly. A servant leads us into their formal parlor. Matteo Vitalli, new Don, barely settled into the role, sits like he owns the entire coastline. He’s about my age, maybe younger, slick hair, tailored suit, smug expression. Beside him stands his right-hand man, Nico, equally irritating. On the other side of the room sits a woman, Coraline Vitalli. The sister. I’ve heard of her, but this is the first time I’ve seen her up close. Pretty, poised, overdressed for a peace meeting. A shimmering silk dress, heels too delicate for mafia floors, and those eyes are too shar

166

Annalissa Hale This morning feels strangely bright. Clarissa leaves for work with her usual hurried kiss to my cheek, reminding me not to forget my appointment. As soon as the door clicks shut, the apartment falls into silence. I wheel the twins’ crib closer to the hallway, gripping the sides so it doesn’t bump the wall. “Okay, my loves,” I whisper, peeking down at them. Hania’s tiny lips are shaped like a pout even in her sleep, and Kian is, of course, wide awake, staring straight up at me like he already knows we have responsibilities today. “Ivan cleared my meetings for you two,” I tell them, even though they don’t understand a thing. “You better appreciate this when you’re older.” Kian kicks his foot as if in protest. Hania just sleeps. I move around the apartment quickly. Bag, diapers, wipes, an extra onesie, my appointment card. I borrow Clarissa’s car keys from the ceramic bowl near the door, then lift their portable crib, slowly and carefully out to the hallway. The ele

167

Annalissa Hale It’s Saturday morning when I wake to the softest sound popping in the quiet. The twins are already wriggling in their crib beside my bed, wide-eyed and waiting for me. “Good morning, my loves,” I whisper, leaning over to stroke Kian’s cheek and tuck a curl behind Hania’s ear. Kian kicks in excitement. Hania grabs my finger with surprising strength. I scoop them up one at a time and settle them onto my lap. A knock comes before the door cracks open. “Are they awake?” Clarissa whispers, peeking inside with bed hair sticking in five different directions. “Yes,” I laugh softly. “Come in before they start complaining about breakfast.” She pads inside wearing oversized socks and an old university sweatshirt, rubbing her eyes as she lets out a big yawn. “Morning, babies,” she coos, leaning down so Hania can tug her sleeve. Hania obliges immediately. Clarissa sighs dreamily. “I love them. They make waking up on weekends so easy.” I raise a brow. “You say that because

168

Dante Romano I stare at my reflection for a long second, wondering how the hell a suit manages to feel like a straightjacket. The fabric is immaculate and perfect for my mother’s charity gala. Perfect for pretending everything is fine. But inside, I feel nothing but exhaustion. I smooth my hair back, slicked to the side the way Charlotte Romano likes it. I grab my keys and step out of the mansion, not bothering to look at the staff who greet me. I walk straight to the driveway, only to see Connor standing there with a bouquet of pale yellow roses clutched awkwardly in his hand. He clears his throat. “Boss… these came for you.” I stare. He lifts them slightly like an offering. “From Coraline Vitalli. She said it was an apology for her brother’s behavior.” A muscle jumps in my jaw. Of course. Of course she did. I exhale sharply. “Trash it.” Connor hesitates. “She said it was important…” “Connor.” He straightens instantly. “Yes, Boss.” I snatch the car keys from his other hand

169

Annalissa Hale My Zoom meeting ends with a soft chime, and I slump back in my chair with a sigh of relief. The client was kind, but my brain feels like mush today. Before I can even close my laptop, my phone buzzes beside me. It’s a text from Clarissa. Clarissa: We’re having a guest over tonight, will that be okay? A smile pulls at my lips immediately. A “guest” can only mean one person she’s been seeing lately, Mr. Miller. She described him as tall, polite, handsome, and surprisingly patient with Clarissa’s emotional walls. She hasn’t officially introduced him to me yet, but I haven’t asked. I don’t want to pressure her. Healing is a slow, personal thing. I glance at the clock. 5:58 p.m. Clarissa gets off work at 6:30, so they’ll be here around seven. That gives me just about an hour. “Kian… Hania…” I whisper as I push myself up from the chair. “Cooperate with mommy tonight.” The twins lie side by side in their shared crib, kicking their tiny legs and babbling to each other in t

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