บททั้งหมดของ The Mafia Princess: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 77

Three months had passed since Paris, but GreenLee still moved like a painting—graceful, deliberate, impossible not to watch. We were at Sam and Mike’s wedding, tucked into the soft glow of string lights and laughter. Sam, radiant and round with joy, held court like a queen. No champagne for her tonight. Just ginger ale and that knowing smile she wore like armor.I stood near the bar, sipping something dark and smoky, watching GreenLee laugh with Lori and Gabby. Her glass was untouched. Not even a toast.I wandered over, brushing my hand against hers. “You’re not drinking?”She hesitated, eyes flicking to Sam, then back to me. “I was going to wait. Thought maybe after the cake, or once the dancing started…”I tilted my head, curious. “Wait for what?”She looked up at me, and something in her expression shifted—soft, vulnerable, glowing in a way that made the world tilt.“I’m pregnant.”The music faded. The lights blurred. My heart did something reckless.“You’re—” I started, but she no

They all saw joy. I saw responsibility.Metteo Alessio Ricci. Salvatore Luca Ricci.Two names. Two boys. Two futures I’d die to protect.GreenLee looked at me like I’d given her the world. Truth is, she gave me mine. I held Metteo first, felt the weight of my grandfather’s name settle into my arms like a vow. Defender. That’s what Alessio means. I’d never understood it until now.Then Salvatore. Her uncle’s name. My own. That one hit harder. Legacy isn’t just about blood—it’s about choice. And GreenLee chose me. Chose us.The room was still buzzing, but I was somewhere else. Back in the alley behind Nonna’s bakery, where Gio and I first learned how to throw a punch. Back in the chapel where I swore I’d never let this life touch the people I loved.Now I had two sons. And a woman who trusted me to keep them safe.The villa was full—of noise, of love, of people who’d survived too much and still showed up. GreenLee was upstairs with the boys, finally asleep. I’d checked twice. Maybe thre

I came into this world sixty seconds before my brother—just a minute, but it’s a minute that shaped everything. My father, Luca Ricci, always said it was fate. My mother, GreenLee, preferred to think of it as destiny. Either way, from the moment I drew my first breath, the weight of the Ricci name settled around my shoulders.Salvatore and I have always been mirror images: both tall, both tan, both inheriting the strength of two empires. But if you look close, you’ll see the difference. My hair is black as midnight, just like my father’s—unmistakable, a mark of the Ricci line. Salvatore’s is a blend, streaked with hints of red that catch the sun, a living reminder of our mother’s Kansas City fire. People used to mix us up, but never for long. I carry my legacy on top of my head; Salvatore wears his on his brow.Growing up in the Ricci estate felt like living in a gilded cage. Every lesson, every glance, every whispered promise was meant to mold me into the next Don. There was no room

They think I’m broken.Liam watches me like I’m a trophy he’s cracked. His uncle calls me “the Ricci girl” like I’m some cursed relic. They think the bruises, the silence, the locked doors mean they’ve won.Let them.Let them believe I’m shattered. That I’ve forgotten who I am. That I’ve traded my name for survival.Because I am surviving. Every breath, every quiet step through this gilded prison, every time I bite my tongue instead of screaming—I’m surviving. And I’m learning.Liam doesn’t sell me like the others. Says I’m “his.” But he treats me like inventory. Like something to control, to parade, to punish. He wants me to forget I’m a Ricci. Wants me to forget I’m GreenLee’s daughter. Luca’s blood. Wants me to forget I was raised in fire.Flashback:They didn’t understand.Not Papa. Not Matteo. Not Salvatore.They saw Liam and saw danger. I saw him and saw freedom.“He’s not one of us,” Matteo said, voice sharp like he was trying to cut Liam out of me.“He’s hiding something,” Sal