All Chapters of The Mafia's Forced Bride: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

( Aria's Point of View )They say the truth will set you free, but no one mentions that freedom often comes with a body count.Konstantin's knife was inches from my throat when the bullet hit him.He staggered backward, his eyes wide with shock, the knife clattering to the floor. Blood bloomed across his white shirt like a crimson flower. He looked down at the wound, then up at the doorway where Viktor Petrov stood with a smoking gun."No one touches my daughter," Viktor said, his voice cold as winter in Moscow.Konstantin fell to his knees, his hands clutching his chest. "You... you've started a war...""No," I said, turning back to the computer screens that were now flooding the world with the Commission's secrets. "I ended one."Around us, the tribunal chamber had erupted into chaos. Giuliana's forces were pouring through the doors, securing the room. Commission guards were throwing down their weapons, realizing their entire organization was collapsing in real-time.On every screen

( Aria's Point of View )Sometimes the only way to save someone you love is to walk straight into the hands of someone who wants you dead.The helicopter's cabin felt like a coffin. I stared at the image of Elena on Dante's phone. Her bruised face, her terrified eyes, the rope cutting into her wrists. My best friend. The only person who had ever loved me without wanting something in return. And now she was bait in a trap designed specifically for me."We're not doing this," Dante said, his voice tight as he pocketed the phone. "Isabella is bluffing. She won't kill Elena. She needs leverage.""She has leverage," I said, my voice hollow. "Me. And she'll absolutely kill Elena if I don't show up. You know that, Dante.""Then we go in with a team," Dante countered, his hand gripping mine. "My grandmother has a tactical unit. We can storm whatever location Isabella sends. We extract Elena and put a bullet in Isabella's head. Problem solved.""And how many people die in the crossfire?" I ask

( Aria's Point of View )Some people are born killers; others are made. But the woman standing in the smoke looked like she'd been forged in hell itself.She moved with liquid grace, her tactical gear custom-fitted, her weapons gleaming. But it was her eyes that froze my blood. Ice-blue and utterly devoid of mercy. She surveyed the warehouse like a queen surveying her domain, and when her gaze landed on me, she smiled."Aria Moretti," she said, her voice cultured and cold. "The girl who thought she could change the world with a livestream. How delightfully naive.""Who are you?" I demanded, even as Viktor's men took defensive positions around us."You can call me Evangeline," the woman said, pulling off her tactical mask to reveal a face that belonged on magazine covers. Sharp cheekbones, perfect skin, lips curved in perpetual amusement. "I'm the Tribunal's... let's call it 'problem solver.' And right now, you are a very significant problem."Her operatives fanned out, weapons trained

( Aria's Point of View )Trust is a currency I'd never learned to spend wisely. But sitting across from Natasha the next morning, I wanted to try.The safe house had a small kitchen on the second floor, away from the medical wing where Dante was still recovering. Natasha had found me there at dawn, both of us unable to sleep, both drawn to the mundane comfort of making coffee in a world that felt anything but mundane.She looked so much like the old photographs of my mother that it hurt to look at her directly. Same sharp cheekbones, same green eyes that seemed to see too much, same way of holding herself. Like she was bracing for impact even when standing still."I don't know how to do this," Natasha said finally, breaking the silence that had stretched between us for the last ten minutes. She was holding her coffee cup with both hands, like it might float away if she let go. "The whole 'family reunion' thing. My mother never talked about Svetlana. I didn't even know I had an aunt un

( Aria's Point of View )I didn't sleep that first night at Villa Moretti. How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that message from Evangeline: "Thirty-two hours. The clock is ticking." Thirty-two hours until the Tribunal expected me to deliver the Keystone sequence. Thirty-two hours to plan a trap that could either save us or get us all killed.I gave up on sleep around three in the morning and wrapped myself in a silk robe I'd found in the wardrobe. Probably worth more than everything I'd owned in my previous life. The Rose Suite felt too confining, too quiet, so I slipped out into the hallway.The estate was different at night. Moonlight streamed through tall windows, casting long shadows across marble floors. I could hear the distant tick of an antique clock somewhere, the soft whisper of wind against stone. It should have been peaceful. Instead, it felt like a museum. Beautiful but lifeless, preserving the past while the present burned around it.I wandered downstairs, n