All Chapters of OWNED BY THE MAFIA BILLIONAIRE: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Ten years after the night the penthouse glass ran red, the Amalfi villa had become their true home.The original stone house had been quietly expanded: a new wing with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the sea, a small library filled with coding textbooks and worn paperbacks, a walled garden where the dogs—now gray-muzzled and slower—still chased butterflies in the afternoons. The terrace overlooking the cove was wider now, furnished with deep cushioned lounges and a fire pit that burned most evenings, even in summer.Aiden stood at the balustrade in the golden hour before sunset, barefoot as always, linen shirt open to the breeze. His hair was more silver than dark now, but his green eyes still held the same piercing clarity. He held a ceramic mug of chamomile tea—Silas’s quiet insistence that Aiden finally cut back on coffee—and watched the water turn from turquoise to liquid fire.Silas joined him without a word. He was grayer too, lines etched deeper around his stormy eyes and scarr

The Amalfi villa had become more than a home; it had become the quiet center of a life neither Aiden nor Silas had ever believed possible. Twenty years had passed since the night the penthouse glass ran red and Lucien Moreau’s body cooled on marble. The stone walls had softened with time—bougainvillea now thick and wild, jasmine climbing higher than the roofline, lemon trees heavy with fruit planted by Marcus’s own hands during one long-ago summer. The terrace overlooking the cove was wider, the railing worn smooth by decades of hands resting there, watching sunsets, watching each other.Aiden stood barefoot at the balustrade, silver hair catching the last light of a late-summer day. The linen shirt he wore was open, sleeves rolled; the platinum band on his finger had dulled slightly from years of wear, but the word engraved inside—Choose—was still sharp. He held a small wooden box, the same one that had once held the collar. Tonight it held two things: the original black leather band

The gunshot cracked through the boardroom like thunder in a steel cage. Aiden flinched instinctively, shoving Silas sideways as the bullet punched through the glass wall behind them, spiderwebbing outward in a deadly bloom. Shards rained down in glittering shards, the city wind howling through the breach like a warning.The intruder—a broad-shouldered thug in black tactical gear, face half-hidden by a balaclava—stood framed in the shattered doorway, pistol still raised. “Blackwood! Step away from Vane or the next one goes through your pretty face.”Aiden’s pulse roared in his ears. He recognized the voice—low, gravelly, familiar from too many late-night threats Marcus had once laughed off. One of Victor Kane’s personal enforcers. Kane wasn’t playing corporate chess anymore; this was checkmate with live rounds.Silas moved faster than thought. He yanked Aiden behind the conference table, using the solid mahogany as cover while drawing a compact Glock from the concealed holster beneath

The safehouse crouched on the edge of the Hudson, a converted warehouse disguised as a derelict boathouse. Steel shutters rolled down with a final clang as the SUV pulled inside, sealing them from the night. Elena’s team had cleared the perimeter; the place was a fortress—cameras, motion sensors, and a small arsenal in the basement. But Aiden felt none of it. The only thing real was Silas’s hand still gripping his, the heat of their bodies pressed together in the back seat, the lingering ache inside him where Silas had claimed him so brutally.They climbed out. Elena met them at the interior door, her face pale under the harsh fluorescents. “Kane’s airstrip just went dark. He’s airborne. Private jet, heading north. We think he’s meeting someone in Montreal—likely the buyer for whatever dirt Marcus has.”Silas’s jaw tightened. “Then we move faster. Get the war room ready. I want every satellite feed, every burner phone trace on Marcus.”Elena nodded and disappeared down the corridor. S

The warehouse lights flickered once, twice then died completely, plunging Pier 17 into near-total darkness. Only the weak glow from the single bulb above Marcus remained, swinging gently like a dying star. Aiden’s bound hands worked faster now, the tiny blade sawing through the zip-tie with short, careful strokes. Plastic fibers parted thread by thread. Sweat stung the cut on his temple.Victor Kane’s voice cut through the black. “Lights out. Cute. Vane’s here.”Outside, engines roared to life multiple vehicles, tires screaming on wet concrete. Gunfire erupted in short, controlled bursts. Kane’s men shouted orders, boots pounding toward the loading doors. Kane himself didn’t flinch. He grabbed Marcus by the hair, yanking his head back, pressing the muzzle of a suppressed pistol to his temple.“Stay exactly where you are, Blackwood,” Kane said pleasantly. “Or big brother gets a new breathing hole.”Aiden froze, blade still hidden between his fingers. His heart slammed against his ribs.