All Chapters of Married to the ruthless Billionaire Mafia: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

69 Chapters

Why was he ice?

Rose stirred slowly, eyelids heavy, body sluggish as if she had been dragged through a dream and left behind in its haze. The room was quiet, still dim with the gray wash of early morning light. She reached for the space beside her, only to find it empty, the sheets cold where Dante should have been.And then it all came back.The glass in Vittorio’s hand. The strange heat crawling over her skin. His looming shadow. The terror that had clawed into her chest. And then Dante’s voice, thunderous and raw, ripping through the room like a blade. His arms around her, carrying her away.Her throat tightened, but what came after…She pressed her face into the pillow, her cheeks burning. She remembered the way she had begged him, her voice was desperate and trembling, and she didn't even recognize herself. And the way he had tried to resist her, fighting against the drug coursing through her, until she had kissed him, until he broke. Unt

What is really eating you up?

Rose tried to lose herself in the quiet of her room. She lingered by the window more often these days, watching the men patrol the grounds below, their rifles catching the last of the light. She avoided Vittorio as quickly as possible. If Dante hadn't saved her then, she wondered what would have happened. But hiding couldn’t make her forget Dante. Her chest tightened whenever she thought of him. She missed him. God, she missed him.This afternoon, she slipped into the library, hoping for quiet. The room was quiet, smelling faintly of old paper and polish, its tall windows letting in slanted beams of afternoon light. The shelves stretched floor to ceiling, filled with histories, law books, and novels in Italian she was getting to understand little by little. She wasn’t really reading. She turned the same page over and over until the words blurred.She was lost in thought when footsteps broke the silence. She looked up quickly, heart stu

Falling for the wrong man

The warehouse smelled of rust and old oil, the concrete floor slick with shadows. Outside, the night was still. Dante stood at the center, his black shirt rolled to his elbows, his hands bare.A circle had formed, soldiers from both sides, weapons drawn but lowered and watching. Across from him, the rival capo’s man spat blood into the dirt. He was broad-shouldered, scarred, and breathing hard, but his eyes were wild with the thrill of a last chance.“You think you scare me, Moretti?” the man growled, his accent thick, his fists curling. “You’re your father’s son, nothing more. Without him, you’re nothing.”Dante’s face didn’t change. No flare of temper, no rise to the bait. His voice came low and flat, and cut through any shout.“Then prove it.”The circle tightened.The man lunged, swinging with a brutal right hook. Dante’s head tilted, narrowly avoiding the blow, and his fist drove into the man’s ribs with precision.

You might be pregnant

The more Dante ignored her, the harder it became not to believe Luca.By the fifth week, her body began betraying her too. She woke up nauseous, her stomach roiling at the smell of breakfast. She tired easily, her head spun if she stood too quickly, and sometimes she felt so weak she had to clutch the edge of her desk just to steady herself.That evening, she sat by the window of her room, staring out at the hills. Her reflection in the glass startled her. She was paler than she remembered, her eyes shadowed, her lips dry. She thought she looked less like a wife of the Moretti heir and more like a ghost haunting the villa.A knock at the door broke her trance.“Enter,” she called, surprised at how faint her own voice sounded.The maid stepped in first, balancing a tray with a steaming bowl and bread. Behind her came Bella, her cane clicking softly against the marble.“Donna Bella,” the maid said, lowering her head.

Your daughter in law is with child

Dante closed the door of his wing and cracked his neck. The sound was sharp in the quiet. He liked the silence. He liked the cold feeling running through him since Vittorio’s conditioning. It made him stronger. Softer feelings had no place in him.He pulled off his black shirt and dropped it on the floor. His body was cut with muscle from years of training. Tattoos marked his skin; one of a snake across his ribs, another of a cross on his chest. He stepped into the bathroom.It was all marble and glass, gold fixtures shining under the light. He turned the shower on. Hot water rained down from above, pouring over his shoulders, sliding across his abs. He pressed his hands to the wall, head down, letting the heat run through him.Rose’s eyes flashed to him. The way she had looked at him in the dining hall, searching, pleading silently for something he had forced himself not to give. He had ignored her in the corridor, walked past her like

I will protect you

Dante shut the door behind him, harder than he meant to. The echo filled the room, then silence pressed in. For once, silence didn’t feel like armor. It felt too thin. He dropped down on the edge of his bed, elbows digging into his thighs, hands hanging loose between his knees. His chest was tight, so tight he couldn’t breathe right.He dragged in a breath and let it out in a rough laugh that scraped his throat. His palm pressed against his sternum, as if he could calm the pounding under his ribs. But it wouldn’t stop.He was going to be a father.The thought struck something raw inside him, deeper than any conditioning could bury. A pulse of warmth spread through his chest, something unfamiliar and almost terrifying. He hadn’t felt anything this strong in years, not since Vittorio had dragged him through blood and bone until he learned how to freeze every flicker of emotion. His first thought wasn’t of the family, or the name

Ex girlfriend

The days after the announcement shifted like the axis of the house had tilted. Rose was no longer invisible.Servants moved faster when she entered a room. Platters of food were set before her first, and the choicest cuts always ended up on her plate. Doors opened for her without hesitation. But the strangest change came from Vittorio himself.Where once his gaze had slid over her as if she were little more than furniture, now it lingered. He would ask if she’d eaten, if she was resting. Once, he even ordered the fire stoked higher in her wing, muttering something about the child needing warmth.It unsettled her more than his cruelty ever had. Because all of it hinged on one thing… the child.Rose would lie awake at night, hand pressed to her belly, fear crawling under her skin. What if it was a boy? What would Vittorio do with a son born from her body? What kind of life would he force on a child meant to carry the Moretti name

You must be proud

Days stretched into weeks, and Bianca settled into the Moretti house as though she had always belonged there. Vittorio, who had little patience for women, seemed to make an exception for her. He let her sit in on dinners, spoke to her as if her opinions mattered, even smiled in her direction.Rose noticed it, and the realization unsettled her. She still received special care… maids hovered around her like shadows, ready to fetch water, adjust cushions, or steady her when dizziness came. She was nearly four months along, and the changes pressed on her daily. Nausea lingered, her appetite came and went, her ankles swelled by evening, and her moods swung like a pendulum. She should have felt secure, cherished even, but Dante’s coldness and Bianca’s presence hollowed out every comfort.One afternoon, when the silence of her wing became unbearable, she left. She found Luca outside near the stables, his jacket off, sleeves rolled to the elbo

You're mine!

Dante came into her room without knocking. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound sharp in the quiet. Rose was at her dressing table, brushing out her hair, and her hand froze mid-stroke when she caught his reflection in the mirror.He stood like a shadow in the corner, broad shoulders tense, eyes dark.“You will not go near Luca again,” he said. His voice was low, but it carried the weight of an order.Rose set the brush down slowly and turned. “Excuse me?”“You heard me.” He stepped forward, the air between them charged, dangerous. “Stay away from him. He is not who you think he is.”A bitter laugh slipped out of her. “That’s rich. You, of all people, telling me who I should trust?” She rose to her feet, squaring herself to him even though her heart was hammering. “Luca is the only one who’s spoken to me like I’m human. Unlike my husband, who can’t even look at me.”Dante’s jaw clenched, the vein in his neck tight. “You’re

Tomorrow is the gender reveal

Dante closed the door behind him and leaned against it, dragging a hand over his face. The air in his room was still, but his chest felt like a furnace. He had crossed a line tonight, one he could never take back.He knew it the moment he kissed her belly.Damned. That was the word. He was damned. Because he hadn’t just touched Rose out of lust. He hadn’t taken her like she was a claim, or an obligation. He had wanted her. He had needed her. And when he looked at her with his hands on her skin, when he felt the small swell of their child, he knew. He was falling.Scratch that. He had fallenHe sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, his mind racing. If Vittorio caught even the faintest scent of this, if he saw past the mask, Rose and the child would not survive. Vittorio had no mercy. He had proved that a thousand times over. So Dante had to be colder, harder, sharper than ever before. He had to keep her at a distance

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