All Chapters of Claimed By My Ex’s Mafia Father in-law : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Chapter Twenty-One Valerio’s POV The hum of the jet was steady, a low purr beneath my boots as I leaned back into the leather seat. Private. Silent. My kind of sanctuary. Outside, the sky stretched in endless blue, and beneath it, the world kept spinning in chaos, none of which mattered until I decided it did. My glass of bourbon swirled in my hand, the amber liquid catching flecks of light from the cabin’s chandelier. My men kept their distance, seated at the far back, not daring to interrupt my thoughts. I was satisfied with that. The plane descended, wheels kissing the tarmac of the capital’s hidden airstrip one no journalist or civilian ever caught sight of. A fleet of black SUVs waited in formation, their engines purring like tigers chained and ready. I stepped out, the sun bouncing off the polished tarmac, and instantly, suits and guns surrounded me. My men. Her men. Both sides measure each other, neither blinking. The First Lady herself was waiting. Elegant. Poised. Di

Chapter Twenty-ThreeElena’s POVThe clanging of keys, the echo of heavy boots, the smell of iron and damp cement prison always felt like a wound that never healed.But today, walking into the visitor’s section with a small bag of food and milk in my hands, I felt my heart beating faster than usual.When they brought him out, my chest almost collapsed in on itself.“Papi…” I whispered, voice trembling as I saw him.My father looked thinner, the jumpsuit hanging loose around his shoulders. His once-strong arms, the ones that used to lift me into the air and twirl me around the kitchen, now carried scars and bruises. His eyes still held love, but they were dimmer, like light suffocated under smoke.“My golden girl,” he rasped, his voice cracking with too many nights of silence.I dropped everything and rushed into his arms, hugging him tight. His chest shook against mine as if he was holding back tears. I couldn’t hold mine. They spilled freely, soaking the fabric of his worn-out shirt

Chapter Twenty-FiveElena’s POVThe sun was bright the next morning, almost too bright, painting the world in gold.For the first time in weeks, my heart felt light. Hopeful.Things were finally, finally falling into place.We had a lawyer now, someone who believed in us, in my father’s innocence. The debts that had once kept me awake at night were slowly clearing off. I had a new Birkin hanging in my closet, a fresh start tucked in the folds of its leather. And the restaurant the Alvarez family’s legacy was one step closer to coming back to life.It almost didn’t feel real.I walked down the street humming softly, clutching a paper bag filled with groceries, the air around me smelling like roasted coffee and early morning dust.For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like the girl running from ghosts. I felt like the girl walking toward a future.But the moment I stepped into the small apartment… my smile froze.Sandra was sitting on the couch, her shoulders hunched, her ha

Chapter Twenty SevenElena’s POVThe club was quieter after hours eerily so.The smell of whiskey and sweat still hung in the air, but the laughter, the shouting, the chaos were gone. What remained were the faint echoes of the night, lingering like ghosts.Spider sat at the bar, counting cash with his usual lazy precision. His fingers were quick, moving through the notes like a magician’s trick. I hovered near him, pretending to help wipe glasses, keeping my head low, my ears sharp.I wasn’t supposed to be there. Most of the dancers had already left, their perfumes fading into the night. But I had stayed back, offering to help clean up sweet, polite, obedient Elena.Except I wasn’t cleaning. I was listening.“Pass me that towel, Angel,” Spider said without looking up.I handed it over, trying to act casual. “Long night, huh?”He chuckled. “You have no idea.”He shoved a few bills into his pocket, then looked at me, eyes softening just slightly. “You know, for someone who’s new to this

Chapter Twenty NineElena’s POVThe air was cold too cold for the sweat sliding down my spine.I took one more step forward. The smell hit me first thick, metallic, sharp.Blood.My stomach twisted as I rounded the corner, my fingers trembling around the little lunch box.Then I saw it.And the world stopped.Blood was everywhere dark streaks on the cement, dripping from a table, smeared across the floor in long, ugly trails. And in the middle of it all stood Valerio.He was shirtless, his back glistening with sweat under the dim light. His muscles flexed with every slow, deliberate movement. His breathing was ragged, heavy, almost animalistic.But what made my throat close was what he was doing.He was screwing out nails from a man’s hand real nails, not metaphorical ones one by one. The man screamed, raw and hoarse, his voice breaking like glass.“Talk,” Valerio’s voice was low, calm, terrifyingly steady.The man cried out again, choking on his breath. “I told you! I told you, I don