All Chapters of The Mafia King’s Queen : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Fiorella The warehouse smelled of gun oil and metal, sharp, sterile, and grounding. I stood by the table, watching my men unload the latest shipment of modified pistols and custom rifles, each one gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights, the black steel catching reflections of movement. My mind wasn't here, though. Not really.Leo stood beside me, clipboard in hand, running inventory in his usual quiet precision. "Two cases of Berettas, one crate of silencers," he murmured, ticking boxes.But my mind kept drifting. Every time my phone buzzed in my pocket, my pulse jumped-half expecting him.N.Since the last message, the mysterious number had been silent.At first, I thought it was some kind of sick joke. I had dismissed it, turned my focus back to business, but the words kept echoing in my head like a whisper I couldn’t shut off.I had been told my mother was dead, didn’t really remember my memories with her but why all of a sudden I am getting messages thst suggests otherwise.

Fiorella The morning light spilled lazily through the curtains and onto the marble floor in soft, golden lines. I sat curled on the couch, one leg tucked beneath me, a half-drunk cup of coffee cooling in my hand. The taste had gone bitter, but I continued to sip anyway, something to anchor me while my mind was all over the place.Something was off.Rocco hadn't called since last night.He usually did, always, no matter how late or busy things got: a simple text, a gruff voice note, just something to let me know he was okay. But there was silence. The type of silence that gnawed at you, that whispered there was more you weren't being told. He didn’t answer my calls too so I’m really worried that something is wrong. Leo had noticed it too. He was standing by the window, flipping through a tablet, pretending to be absorbed in numbers while his eyes flicked to me every few seconds.“You’ve stared at that same spot for ten minutes,” he said finally, setting the tablet aside.“Trying to

FiorellaThe message came at noon, short and smug.Dinner. Sicilia’s restaurant. Eight. Come alone, don’t you dare come with another. – P.I didn't need the signature to know who it was from. The words carried his arrogance, the kind that could still drip venom even through a cracked screen.I was at the estate by evening, fastening the thin diamond necklace around my neck. My reflection was all calm precision: hair packed up, lips painted the color of wine, expression unreadable. Beneath the silk of my dress, the small holster hugged my thigh. Outside, Leo paced with the rest of my men; their tension vibrated through the earpieces. Sicilia’s private dining hall sat at the far end of the harbor, tucked behind walls of frosted glass and guarded by Phillipe’s own men. As the car stopped, the faint scent of the sea mixed with smoke from the kitchen vents. I stepped out first. Leo opened the door, scanning the shadows before giving a nod.“Stay sharp,” I murmured.He didn't have to answe

FiorellaI was back at my estate now, I spent the night at the De Luca mansion and once it was dawn I left because I was just too angry to stay.The photo lay between the coffee cups on the table like a wound that refused to close. I hadn't slept. Every time that I closed my eyes, I saw her face again-my mother's, thinner, older, but unmistakably hers.Alive.Chained.I sat rying to make sense of a truth that shredded everything I thought I knew.Why would my father have announced her dead and did a burial?What happened that I don’t know about?Leo leaned over the table once more to study the photograph. “He's playing a long game, Fiorella. Using her to bait you."“I know.” My voice cracked and I hated how small it sounded. “But what am I supposed to do, Leo? Pretend this doesn’t exist?”He shook his head. "No. But we move smart. Not desperate."They should have grounded me, but they did not. I felt the air thin and my thoughts looping-mother, alive, captured, pleading“I need to mov

FiorellaMy phone buzzed while I was still in the shower, steam fogging the glass and my reflection. I wrapped a towel around my shoulders, glanced at the screen, and felt my stomach drop before I read the words.I know you're dying to know who I am. Meet me. Water park. Midnight. Come alone. — N.Alone.The message sat on the screen like a hot coal. My thumb hovered over the reply, then pulled away. I'd been walking the tight rope between fury and sanity for days; Rocco thought I was staying on the safer side of caution. I would protect him from this. I would protect his family. But the photograph, my mother, chained and hollow-eyed, had convinced me that silence was a different kind of death. If Nek wanted a meeting, I would go. Carefully. Quietly. I wouldn't let him see the part of me that burned.I wore black that night: soft pants, a leather jacket fitted at the shoulders, soundless boots. Leo watched me go without commenting. He offered to join me. I declined with one glance s