All Chapters of Claimed By My Ex’s Mafia Father in-law : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

Chapter 180: Fractured BondsElena's POVThe yacht rocked gently on the open water, but the motion no longer soothed me. Every swell felt like a warning. I stood at the railing again, the diamond pendant cool against my heated skin, watching the sun sink into the sea like it was bleeding out. Valerio had disappeared below deck after the drone alert. He thought I had not noticed the way his shoulders tensed when his phone buzzed, or the quiet order he gave the captain in clipped Italian. I noticed everything now. Pregnancy sharpened the senses. Or maybe betrayal had.I pressed my palm to my stomach. Seven weeks. Maybe eight. The life inside me was still too small to feel, but I felt it anyway. A quiet pressure. A secret heartbeat that belonged to both of us and neither of us entirely.Footsteps behind me. Heavy. Familiar.He stopped a few feet away. Did not touch me yet.“They are gone,” he said. “The drone. Taken care of.”I did not turn. “How many more will come?”“As many as Kovalev

Chapter 183: Trials of TrustElena's POVThe safehouse kitchen smelled of fresh coffee and pine from the open window. Dawn light slanted across the stone counters, turning everything gold and soft. I stood at the island in one of Valerio’s old flannel shirts, sleeves rolled to my elbows, bare legs chilled by the tile. My phone lay face-down beside the mug I had not touched. Sonia’s message still glowed in my mind like a fresh bruise.I’m sorry.Two words. No explanation. No follow-up.I had not replied.Valerio moved behind me. Quiet footsteps. He set his own mug down, arms bracketing me against the counter the way he had on the yacht. Chest warm against my back. Breath stirring my hair.“You did not sleep,” he said. Not a question.“Neither did you.”His hand slid to my stomach. Palm flat. Protective. “Tell me what you are thinking.”“I am thinking my best friend is about to sell me out to the man who probably ordered my mother’s death warrant.” I turned in his arms. Met his eyes. “A

Chapter 185: Broken LoyaltiesBrian's POVThe church basement still smelled of gunpowder and candle wax even after the last echo of sirens faded. Bullet holes pocked the walls like angry stars. Choir chairs lay overturned. The blanket Sonia and I used for our secret nights was shredded, stained with plaster dust and blood from a graze on my forearm I had not noticed until now.I sat on the bottom step of the narrow staircase, elbows on knees, head bowed. The envelope Elena had left lay open beside me. New passport. Bank cards. Ten million euros. A clean exit signed in Valerio Moretti’s cold, precise handwriting.Sonia paced in front of me. Bare feet on cold concrete. Leather jacket zipped to her chin like armor. Gun still tucked in the small of her back. She had not looked at the envelope once.“They are gone,” she said. Voice flat. “Elena. Valerio. My father.”I lifted my head. “They let you live.”“For now.”She stopped pacing. Squatted in front of me. Dark eyes searching mine. Masc

Chapter 187: Blood OathsValerio POVThe estate grounds had been transformed overnight into something out of a fever dream. White marble pathways lined with thousands of floating lanterns. Cypress trees draped in crimson silk ribbons that caught the wind like blood trails. A central pavilion rose on the lawn—black iron framework wrapped in white roses and dark ivy, the roof open to the night sky so the stars could witness what was about to happen. Tables groaned under crystal, gold-rimmed china, and platters of caviar, truffles, and rare Tuscan beef carved tableside. Champagne chilled in silver buckets. A string quartet played low, haunting Vivaldi beneath the murmur of invited guests—half mafia royalty, half carefully vetted civilians who thought this was just another extravagant Italian wedding.Security was invisible but everywhere. Snipers on the rooftops. Drones circling high. Metal detectors disguised as garden arches. Every guest had been screened twice. Kovalev’s men would not

Chapter 189: Jealous StormsValerio POVThe riad courtyard smelled of orange blossoms and charcoal from the tagine still cooling on the low table. Lanterns swayed in the evening breeze, casting gold patterns across the blue-tiled pool. Elena floated on her back in the shallow end, hair fanned out like dark silk, eyes closed, one hand resting on the gentle curve of her stomach. Nine weeks now. The baby was the size of a grape. She had told me that this morning while we ate figs and yogurt in bed. Her voice soft. Happy. For the first time in weeks, the tension in her shoulders had eased.I watched her from the arched doorway, sleeves rolled, glass of mint tea forgotten in my hand. Morocco had done what I hoped. No drones. No intercepted messages. No shadows at the gate. Just sun. Spice. And her.My phone vibrated once on the stone ledge behind me.I glanced at the screen.Dr. Rossi.A single forwarded message from his clinic account.Patient Elena Moretti. Follow-up appointment recommen