All Chapters of Her Mafia Husband's Secret Agenda: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

The silence in the De Luca mansion wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy—like a fog that clung to Isabella’s skin, to her lungs, to the faint sound of her heartbeat echoing through the marble halls.Chicago’s winter pressed against the tall windows, the city lights blurred by frost. Inside, warmth was an illusion.Isabella sat by the grand dining table, a long stretch of mahogany that could seat twenty but never did. Dinner was a ritual of appearances—Caterina at one end, regal and cold; Adriano at the other, untouchable; and Isabella somewhere in between, the ghost in white silk.“You’re quiet again,” Caterina remarked, her tone sweet as poison. “Not that I expected conversation from a Romano.”Isabella lifted her gaze. She had learned not to respond. Every word was a trigger, every reaction a victory she refused to give.Across the table, Adriano’s fork scraped against his plate. That sound—metal on porcelain—always made her tense. “Leave her,” he said, his voice low, measured. The kind tha

The morning came gray and slow, the kind of light that made the city look like it was holding its breath. Chicago had that way of waking up — with a hum under the surface, restless, watchful, like it knew something was coming.Isabella stirred before dawn, the habit carved deep after years of sleepless nights. The space beside her was empty, as always. Adriano’s side of the bed was untouched, the pillow cold.She pushed herself up, running a hand through her dark hair, and sat still for a moment, listening. Somewhere below, the house was already alive — footsteps, voices, the distant rumble of engines in the driveway. The De Lucas woke early. Power never slept.By the time she entered the breakfast room, Caterina was already there. Perfect posture. Perfect makeup. A silk robe that probably cost more than Isabella’s entire wardrobe before the marriage.“Good morning,” Isabella said softly.Caterina didn’t look up from her coffee. “Is it?” she asked, tone neutral, almost polite. Then sh

The house was finally quiet.Adriano De Luca stood in the dark of his office, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the city stretching before him in a line of gold and smoke. Chicago’s skyline glimmered like temptation — untouchable, deceptive, alive. From up here, everything looked orderly. Down there, everything bled.He liked that difference.He liked control.He turned the glass of whiskey in his hand, the liquid burning amber under the low light. The scent of it mingled with something softer — perfume. Gianna’s perfume. It still lingered, even though she’d left hours ago, the ghost of her presence etched into the air like a bruise he refused to acknowledge.She had looked perfect tonight — poised, radiant, commanding.Exactly as she was meant to.Caterina had praised her openly, her approval spilling like honey over a table meant for daggers. And Isabella… Isabella had stood there, stiff and silent, eyes wide as Caterina ordered her around like staff. Bring more bread. Clear the dishe