All Chapters of THE MAFIA’S HIDDEN PRINCESS RETURNS: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

He didn’t know she was awake. Didn’t know she’d waited for him. Didn’t know, and wouldn’t have cared if he did.Elena buried her face in the pillow and finally let herself cry. Not the quiet, swallowed tears she’d learned to hide. Real sobs that shook her whole body, that made her chest ache, that felt like they might never stop.The clock on the nightstand glowed at 2:47 AM when she finally cried herself to sleep.In her dreams, Marcus came home. He walked into the dining room, saw the table she’d set, and smiled. He pulled her into his arms and told her he loved her, that he was sorry, that she was everything he’d ever wanted.But even in her dreams, when Elena looked up at his face, his ice-blue eyes were focused on someone else. Someone who looked almost like her, but wasn’t her at all.Elena woke up with a pounding headache and swollen eyes.For a moment, she didn’t remember why she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Then it all came rushing back, the red dress, the cold dinner

Victoria closed the front door carefully and locked it. Then she grabbed the wine bottle from the counter, poured herself a glass, and sat down across from Elena.“Start from the beginning,” she said. Her voice was steady, but her dark eyes were sharp with concern. “And don’t leave anything out.”Elena told her everything. The phone call. Isabelle’s voice on the speaker. Marcus’s words, nothing else matters. The box of photos hidden in his office. The recent pictures prove Isabelle had been alive for months.Victoria listened without interrupting, her expression getting darker with every detail. When Elena finished, her friend drained her wine glass in one long swallow.“That son of a bitch,” Victoria said quietly. Then louder: “That lying, manipulative son of a bitch.”Elena’s laugh came out bitter. “I was so stupid. Five years, Vic. Five years I thought if I just tried harder…”“Stop.” Victoria reached across the table and grabbed Elena’s hand. “You weren’t stupid. You were in love

Elena spent the next week in a strange kind of limbo. She smiled at Marcus over breakfast, when he actually came home. She asked about his day. She played the role of dutiful wife while secretly documenting everything.Every late night. Every cancelled dinner. Every lie.The investigator Victoria had recommended was a woman named Sarah Chen. Forty-five, former FBI, with a reputation for discretion and results. She’d come to the house three days after their phone call, declined Elena’s offer of tea, and gotten straight to business.“I need to know everything,” Sarah had said, pulling out a tablet. “Names, dates, places. The more details you give me, the faster I can work.”Elena told her about Isabelle. About the phone call. About the box of photos. About Harrison Laurent and the inheritance with strings attached.Sarah had taken notes without expression, occasionally asking clarifying questions. When Elena finished, the investigator had studied her for a long moment.“This is going to

Monday came too quickly.Elena woke up alone,Marcus had already left for Boston. No goodbye, no kiss, just a text sent at five AM: Flight’s early. See you Thursday.Thursday. Three days of freedom. Three days when she didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to smile, didn’t have to be the wife of a man who loved someone else.She should have felt relieved. Instead, she felt empty.Victoria called at noon. “He’s gone?”“Yes.”“Good. Get dressed. We’re going out.”“Vic, I don’t…”“I don’t care what you don’t feel like doing. You’ve been locked in that house for a week like a prisoner. You’re coming out with me, and that’s final.”Elena wanted to argue, but she was too tired. “Where?”“There’s a charity gala tonight. The Masquerade ball, very fancy, raises money for children’s hospitals. I have an extra ticket.”“I can’t go to a ball, Victoria. I look like…”“You look beautiful. You always do. You just can’t see it anymore because Marcus spent five years convincing you otherwise.” Victoria’s

Dante set down his glass and took hers, placing it on a nearby table. Then he took both her hands in his, his touch warm and solid.“Elena,” he said softly. “You don’t have to do anything. We can sit on that couch, talk until morning, and I’ll call you a car home. No expectations. No judgment.” He squeezed her hands gently. “But if you want to forget about your life for a few hours, if you want someone to make you feel valued, and seen, and cherished, then I’m here. Your choice. Always your choice.”Elena looked up at him. At this stranger who’d shown her more kindness in three hours than her husband had in five years.She thought about Marcus in Boston with Isabelle. Thought about the email Sarah had shown her, I need you to end things with her cleanly. Thought about five years of being invisible, unwanted, not enough.And she chose herself.“I want to forget,” she whispered. “Just for tonight. I want to feel like I matter.”Dante’s eyes darkened. “You do matter, piccola. More than y