All Chapters of The Vitale Brothers Ruined Me, Then Made Me Their Queen: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

The dark is usually my friend. It hides the bruises. It hides the fear. It hides the girl who stood in the rain.But tonight, the dark is a shroud.I wake up gasping, my lungs seizing as if I am underwater. The air in the master bedroom is cool, conditioned to a perfect sleeping temperature, but my skin is burning. I am drenched in a cold, clammy sweat that pastes my silk nightgown to my back.I sit up, clutching the duvet. My heart hammers a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs—thud-thud-thud—like a bird trapping itself in a cage.The silence of the mansion presses against my ears. It isn't peaceful. It is the heavy, suffocating silence of a waiting room. The silence before the doctor comes out to tell you there is nothing more they can do.I look at the shadows in the corner of the room. They twist and writhe, taking shapes I don't want to see.I see a hospital bed. I see a woman with my face, pale and bloodless, her life draining away onto white sheets. I see a baby crying in a

Waiting is a form of torture the Vitale brothers are not equipped for.They are men of action. They breach doors. They execute strategies. They force the world to bend to their will through violence and velocity.But you cannot breach a cervix. You cannot intimidate a uterus into dilating faster.Time in the medical suite has become a thick, viscous substance. It pools in the corners of the room, smelling of antiseptic and high-voltage anxiety.I am sitting on the edge of the bed, my feet dangling. The hospital gown they made me change into is thin, but Ciro has draped his heavy tactical jacket over my shoulders. It smells of him—gunpowder and cedar—and acts as a shield against the sterile chill of the room.The monitor beeps. Beep. Beep. Beep.It is the only steady rhythm in a room full of chaotic heartbeats.Aureliano is pacing.He has worn a track in the expensive rug. He walks from the window to the door, turns, and walks back. Every time he passes Dr. Rossi, he glares at the man

The cry shatters the silence like a hammer striking glass.It isn't a whimper. It isn't a tentative cough or a sputtering gasp for air. It is a roar.High, clear, and vibrating with indignation, the sound rips through the sterile air of the medical suite, bouncing off the monitors and the walls, announcing to the world that a new Vitale has arrived and is already demanding tribute.The sound is electric. It cuts through the thick, grey haze of my exhaustion, sharpening the blurry edges of the room into high-definition focus. My heart, which has been hammering a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs for hours, suddenly stutters and resets."She's out," Dr. Rossi breathes. His voice is thick, heavy with the kind of relief that only comes after holding a life in the balance.He lifts the baby.She is held high against the harsh light of the surgical lamps. She is slick with white vernix and streaks of bright red blood, her skin a mottled purple that is already flushing into a deep, a

But she must be the last.The sentence hangs in the air, heavier than the velvet curtains, heavier than the stone walls of the mansion.I look down at Maria.She is sleeping, her tiny fist curled against my chest. She is a miracle. A singularity. The beginning and the end of a lineage that almost didn't happen.I feel a pang of grief, sharp and cold, for the children I will never have. The brothers and sisters she will never know.But then I feel the weight of the hands touching me.Aureliano’s palm on my shoulder. Ciro’s grip on the bed rail. Spadino’s fingers brushing the baby’s blanket.They aren't pulling away. They aren't looking at me with pity or disappointment. They are looking at me with a fierce, terrifying gratitude. I gave them one. I gave them a Queen."One is enough," Ciro rumbles, his voice breaking the silence. "If she is like her mother, one is more than the world can handle."Aureliano leans down. He kisses my temple, a hard, lingering press of his lips that brands m

The living room of the Vitale mansion has hosted war councils, execution orders, and political negotiations.Today, it is hosting job interviews.And truthfully, the body count was lower during the war.I sit in the center of the beige velvet sofa. I am wearing a black silk blouse and trousers that hide the lingering softness of my stomach. My hair is pulled back. I look like the Donna.But my hands are shaking.It is the caffeine withdrawal. Or maybe the sleep deprivation. Or maybe the sheer, unadulterated rage I am currently feeling toward the three men standing behind me.My wolves. My walls. My headache.They are arranged like a praetorian guard.Aureliano leans against the fireplace mantle, arms crossed, staring at the empty chair in front of us with the intensity of a laser sight. Ciro stands by the window, blocking the light, his massive frame casting a long, intimidating shadow. Spadino is perched on the arm of the sofa next to me, cleaning a knife."Put the knife away," I his