All Chapters of The Dons Forbidden Wife: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Serena’s / Martina’s POV“I want a list. Every member who voted to strip my name.” I said Matteo doesn’t argue, He disappears into the adjoining room, already making calls, already pulling encrypted voting logs and internal recordings. Dante remains where he is, watching me instead of the screen.By morning, the safe house is quieter. I sit at the head of the long steel table in the operations room. The broadcast from the previous night is frozen on the wall-mounted screen…Victor standing tall, my title gone beneath a red banner.Matteo steps in with a printed document in his hand.“Verified,” he says. “Cross-checked against chamber recording.”“Read them.” I said not looking at him He unfolds the paper. “Alessandro Vane.”I nod once.“Luca Moretti.”I picture his face, the way he avoided looking directly at me during the vote.“Stefan Rizzi.”Matteo continues down the list, Each name lands evenly in the room. I don’t interrupt, I don’t comment I just commit them to memory. When he

Serena’s / Martina’s POVBy nightfall, the old shipping warehouse at the docks stands quiet against the water. From the upper office window, I watch the first black car pull up to the curb. It doesn’t idle long. The engine cuts, and Vane steps out, adjusting his coat as he scans the perimeter. He looks up at the building as if measuring it, as if calculating exits before he even walks inside.A second car arrives ten minutes later, then the third. Each vehicle comes separately, spaced carefully to avoid attention. No press and no visible guards stationed outside. Just the dim industrial lights and the slow roll of the tide against rusted steel.Matteo waits at the entrance below, calm and formal.Moretti exits his car and pauses before approaching. “You’re certain this is discreet?” he asks quietly.“As promised,” Matteo replies.Rizzi arrives last, he closes his door with more force than necessary and looks toward the dark windows. “Does Victor know about this?” he asks.“This meeti

Serena’s / Martina’s POV “What happens to us?”The question barely leaves his mouth before another voice breaks in. “You don’t have to do this Martina.” Victor’s financial proxy lies motionless on the concrete floor beside the table, blood spreading slowly beneath him. The remaining Council members shove their chairs back in abrupt, uneven movements. One man raises both hands instinctively, palms open as if facing armed police. Another stumbles over his words, trying to explain that he had only followed procedure. A third immediately points toward the body on the floor. “He handled the transfers,” he says quickly. “He structured everything. We didn’t know the details.” The industrial lights hum overhead, I remain at the head of the table, the gun lowered but still visible in my hand. Their confidence has evaporated. The posture they arrived with is gone, no more calculated diplomacy, no more rehearsed justifications. They no longer see a fallen heiress, they see a threat

Victor’s POV“Clear the floor. I don’t want a single soul breathing the same air as this man.”It’s past midnight when I step into the private wing. The lighting is dimmed to that artificial calm scenery, hospitals think makes people feel safe but It doesn’t work on me.An administrator in a gray suit hurries toward me with a tablet clutched to his chest. “Mr. Victor , the patient is stable for now, but…”I walk past him without saying a word.“I didn’t ask for stable,” I say. “I asked for isolation.”My security moves immediately. Two men take the elevators, two more position themselves at the stairwell. Within minutes, every nurse stationed at the ICU checkpoint is quietly replaced. No raised voices, Just quiet removal.One of my techs hands me a secured tablet. “Feeds are rerouted, sir. This floor is now on internal loop.”“Good.”“All non-essential staff have been cleared.”“Define non-essential…”He swallows. “Anyone who doesn’t need to physically keep him alive.”“Then they leav

Serena’s / Martina’s POVThe city lights outside Victor’s estate were starting to disappear when we returned to the safehouse.I didn’t say anything during the drive, Dante didn’t push. He knew when my mind was working through a plan and when it wasn’t the right time to interrupt.The safehouse smelled like old paper and gun oil when we stepped inside. Maps covered the far wall, layered over each other from years of operations. Weapons sat neatly arranged on a steel rack near the door. The air carried that familiar tension that always came before something irreversible.In the center of the room, a heavy wooden table held the blueprint. A bright lamp hung low above it, throwing sharp light across the massive architectural plan of Victor’s estate.I stepped forward and leaned over the table. The fortress stared back at me from the page. Every corridor, Every wing and Every security ring that had been added over the years.Dante moved beside me and crossed his arms.“You don’t just walk