Semua Bab Falling for the Mafia’s Lie: Bab 1 - Bab 9

Ashford POVI could hear the whispers around me, soft and curious.The immigration officers murmured about my marriage, about him—the man who supposedly adored me.They couldn’t understand why I would walk away from someone who loved me so fiercely.I tugged at the corner of my lips, letting a hint of mockery curl there.Back in college, everyone envied the way Dominic Conti loved me.Back then, I was the golden girl of my school’s shooting team.And Dominic Conti was the future heir of a powerful mafia family.People said he was distant and restrained.Cold, disciplined, untouched by desire.His private life was famously clean—no scandals, no women, no one allowed within arm’s reach.Until that networking gala.That was when he met me.He fell in love at first sight.From then on, he pursued me obsessively.Jewelry came without price tags.Fireworks lit the sky for three nights straight, announcing his love to the world.Once, I joked about craving the chocolate croissants from a bak

I pushed the door open—and stopped.Ava Ashford was sitting on the couch in silk pajamas, snacks spread casually across the coffee table, like she belonged there.I paused on purpose.“Didn’t you say you had a mixer tonight?” I asked lightly. “That you wouldn’t be coming home?”She looked up, lips curving into a shy smile that made my stomach tighten.“Oh—right,” she said softly. “I forgot to tell you. I actually had a fight with my boyfriend. I went to the party just to make him jealous.”She laughed, almost embarrassed.“When I told him, he didn’t seem to care at all. But the moment I arrived, he showed up and dragged me away.”As she spoke, she casually tugged at her collar.A kiss mark bloomed against her skin.My nails dug deep into my palm.Pain spread, sharp and unforgiving.“When did you get a boyfriend?” I asked quietly. “Why didn’t I know?”She tilted her head, unbothered.“About five months ago.”Five months.She had moved into this house five months ago.So from the very fi

Dominic POVI drove Ava to a private hospital owned by one of the Families.The doctor didn’t bother lowering his voice.“She’s three months pregnant,” he said coldly.“No sexual activity. Not tonight, not next time. Just because nothing happened this time doesn’t mean you’ll be lucky again.”He looked at both of us, unimpressed.“Bed rest. Two days of observation. If everything’s stable, then she can leave.”I stood there, jaw tight, guilt clawing its way up my chest.When the doctor left, I turned to Ava.“You can’t keep provoking me,” I said, frustration leaking into my voice.“What if something happened to the baby?”She didn’t answer.She wrapped her arms around my waist instead, pressing her cheek against me like she hadn’t heard a word.“Okay,” she murmured softly.“I get it.”Then she smiled.“You took Arabella out to dinner and didn’t even bring me. I was jealous.”“I just wanted your attention. I didn’t expect you to lose control like that…”Her eyes reddened slightly, lashes

That night, I drank more than I should have.Arabella hated the smell of alcohol.She always had.So I decided to sleep in the guest room—just one night.Let the scent fade before I went back to our bedroom.That was the plan.When I woke up, half-drunk and disoriented, Ava was beside me.Naked.Too close.For a second, my mind went blank.Then the fear hit.And after that—rage.I hadn’t expected someone from the countryside, someone who was family, to dare cross that line.But what terrified me more was Arabella finding out.The thought of her pain—of her leaving—was unbearable.My first instinct was simple.End it.End her.She dropped to her knees before I could speak, shaking, crying, begging.Then my parents called.Another reminder.Another thinly veiled demand.An heir.Arabella couldn’t have children.I sat in that room all night, chain-smoking, staring at the wall.Somewhere before dawn, I looked at Ava’s face again.She was Arabella’s cousin.Blood-related.If she carried my

Arabella POVBy the seventh month after I arrived in the United States, a letter finally found its way to me from back home.By then, I was already living comfortably.The copyright money from the book I’d written years ago—back when I still believed love could save anything—had matured into something solid. Enough to buy an entire building on one of New York’s busiest streets.I kept the third floor and above for myself.The first floor I leased to a small newspaper office.The second became a neighborhood shop.It was clean. Quiet. Anonymous.Exactly what I needed.Most mornings, my life was painfully simple. I watered the plants on my balcony, drank coffee, skimmed the papers. No bodyguards. No whispered warnings. No one watching my every breath.I took a sip of coffee and frowned.Even after all this time, I still couldn’t get used to the bitterness.I set the cup down on the wrought-iron table and opened the letter.It began with polite greetings—how are you, are you well, do you