Semua Bab The Underboss's Kingdom : Bab 41 - Bab 50

The knock at the door came just after noon. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I hadn’t left the house in days, not since Salvatore threw me out like I was nothing. Like I hadn’t spent years loving him. Waiting for him. Believing in him. I opened the door and froze. A box sat on the porch. Elegant. White. Tied with a black satin ribbon. My heart jumped. Salvatore. Who else would send something like this?I snatched it up and carried it inside, my hands trembling. The lid lifted easily, and when I saw what was inside, my breath caught. A dress. Not just any dress, a stunning, floor‑length gown in a deep, rich color that made my chest tighten. The kind of dress a man chose when he wanted the world to see who belonged to him. And beneath it… a ticket. To the Ricci charity gala. My vision blurred for a moment. He wanted me there. He still wanted me. Why else would he send this? There was a note tucked under the fabric. No signature. No name. Just a single line written in strong, confident handwri

Gala night felt unreal. Salvatore had insisted on “the full treatment,” and apparently that meant a spa day, professional hair, professional makeup, and a stylist who kept saying things like “your bone structure is a gift.” By the time they were done with me, I barely recognized the woman in the mirror, elegant, polished, glowing. For once, I didn’t argue, I let myself enjoy it. I smoothed my hands down the emerald dress Marco had chosen and took a steadying breath before stepping out of the bedroom.Halfway down the stairs, I heard voices drifting up from the foyer. Salvatore’s low, warm tone. Roc’s steady rumble. Marco’s bright, teasing laugh. And Gabe excited, bouncing, talking a mile a minute.“…but Mama’s dress is green like a princess one! And Uncle Roc said...” I stepped into view, and all four heads turned at once. Gabe’s eyes went huge. “MOM!” He ran to the bottom of the stairs, practically vibrating. “You look like a movie star!”I laughed, heart swelling. “Thank you, baby.”

Salvatore is lying. I know he is. The second he said he didn’t send the dress, didn’t send the invitation, didn’t want me here… I felt something snap inside me. He’s just trying to save face in front of that little twat Sara. That’s all this is. He doesn’t want to embarrass her. He doesn’t want to make her look like the placeholder she is.He has to be lying. Why else would he send me a dress like that? Why else would he want me here? Why else would he write that note? He looked right at me and denied it. And Roc, my own brother, acted like I was the crazy one.I stormed away before I said something I couldn’t take back. My table was a few rows away from theirs, tucked between people I didn’t know and didn’t care to know. I sat down hard, gripping the edge of the table so I wouldn’t scream.A man beside me leaned slightly closer. “Are you alright?”I turned, ready to snap, but stopped. He was handsome. Older. Sharp suit, sharper eyes. The kind of man who didn’t blend in even if he tri

Roc and Marco were laughing about something when Sara slipped away to the bathroom, and for a moment I let myself enjoy the sight. They looked… free. Happy. Like the weight Roc had carried for years had finally lifted.Good. He deserved that.But the moment Sara disappeared into the crowd, the unease I’d been pushing down all night crept back in. I leaned toward Roc.“That man Letta was dancing with,” I said quietly. “Something’s off about him.”Roc’s smile faded. “Off how?”“I don’t know yet.” I scanned the room again, trying to place the familiarity. “But he’s not here for the gala. He’s here for something else.”Roc followed my gaze, eyes narrowing. “You want me to keep an eye on him?”“Yes,” I said. “But don’t make it obvious. Just… stay alert.”Roc nodded once. “Got it.”Marco glanced between us, sensing the shift. “Everything okay?”Roc squeezed his hand under the table. “Yeah. Just work stuff.”I didn’t correct him. A moment later, Sara returned, and the second she sat beside m

Getting ready for dinner with my parents shouldn’t make me nervous. I’ve faced worse things in my life, real danger, real pressure, but somehow this felt bigger. More important. Like the whole night balanced on a thin line I didn’t want to mess up.Marco stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie for the tenth time. “Do I look okay? Be honest. Your mom is going to judge me. I can feel it.”I snorted. “My mom is going to love you.”He shot me a look. “You don’t know that.”“I do,” I said, stepping behind him and fixing the knot he kept messing with. “Relax. You’re perfect.”He went still at that, eyes softening in the mirror. “You think so?”“I know so.”He exhaled, shoulders dropping a little. “I just… I want tonight to go well. I want them to like me.”“They will,” I said again, firmer this time. “And if they don’t, that’s their problem. Not yours.”He smiled, but it was small, nervous. I brushed my thumb along his jaw, grounding him, grounding myself too. Last night at the gala