All Chapters of Married to the ruthless Billionaire Mafia: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

69 Chapters

The line is secured

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, though someone had tried to cover it with fresh flowers on the window ledge. Rose lay back on the cushioned table, the paper sheet crinkling beneath her. The doctor smeared cold gel across her belly, and she shivered.Her palms were damp. She wanted to clasp them over her stomach, shield the baby somehow, but she forced herself to stay still. Her gaze flicked toward the men in the room.Vittorio stood like a general before battle, spine straight, chin lifted, his eyes fixed on her as if the child inside her was already his to command. He hadn’t sat since they entered. For him, this wasn’t a checkup. This was the moment that would decide everything.Dante was quieter, leaning against the wall a few feet away. His arms were crossed, his face carved into that usual calm. But Rose noticed the slight tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes kept straying to her stomach and back again. He wasn’t breathing evenly.Th

You drive me mad

The days after the announcement slipped into a strange kind of quiet. The household bustled with preparations, guards doubled their patrols, and servants carried trays of rich foods and tonics meant to keep Rose strong. Every door she passed opened for her, every corridor hushed at her presence. She was no longer just Dante’s wife, she was the mother of the heir.And yet, the truest shift happened in the dark. Almost every night, when the hallways emptied and the lanterns burned low, Dante came to her. Sometimes he knocked softly, as if asking permission. Other times he slipped inside without a sound, his shadow stretching across her walls before she even realized he was there.Some nights he kissed her until she forgot her own name. Their bodies tangled beneath the sheets, their whispers lost in the rise and fall of their breath. His hunger was fierce but never cruel, and each time he touched her stomach, she felt the significance of what they had create

You are carrying the future

The Moretti household ran on ritual. For Rose, it meant waking each morning to the quiet shuffle of slippers and skirts outside her door. At six months along, she no longer rose alone. A cluster of maids rotated shifts, though there were always three constant faces: Alessia, the eldest, whose hands were rough but steady; Gianna, quick with her tongue and quicker still to scowl if Rose tried to pour her own water; and Sofia, barely out of girlhood, who carried folded linens like they weighed nothing.They moved in and out of her suite with the discipline of soldiers. Breakfast was laid before her dressing table, curtains drawn open at the same angle each morning, the pitcher of warm water placed on the left side of the basin instead of the right. Nothing was improvised. Vittorio insisted his heir’s mother be treated with precision.“Eat more, Signora,” Alessia reminded her every morning as she slid a plate closer. “Two eggs at least.”Rose smiled,

Darkness welcomed him

The news hit him like a blade twisting slowly.“The miscarriage was unavoidable at this stage. She needs rest. The body will recover. But she may struggle again, if she conceives in the future.”For a moment, he stood frozen. He thought he misheard. That maybe it was the wine fogging his mind. But when he looked back at Rose in the room, she was still unconscious and the truth hit him hard.He didn’t go in. He couldn’t. His chest tightened, Rose was in pain, so technically he was also. So he turned and walked. Fast. Straight to his own chambers.The door slammed shut behind him and his hands shook for the first time in years. A pack of cigarettes lay on the desk. He tore it open, lit one, then another, smoke burning his lungs. It wasn’t enough. He grabbed the bottle of grappa from the shelf, took it straight to the throat until it scorched down his chest. He wanted the fire, wanted something to burn away the hollow ache clawing through h

It was time for the next plan

The days after the miscarriage dragged on like a punishment neither of them could escape. The halls of the villa were too quiet.Dante filled the silence with blood. He was colder than ever, his temper sharper, his brutality unmatched. Men who had failed the famiglia paid with their lives. He tore through meetings with iron words and sharper knives, each striking an outlet for the hollow ache inside him. The men whispered about him with new fear. Vittorio was proud.But it wasn’t pride that fueled Dante. It was emptiness.He did not visit Rose. He did not look at her. To see her was to feel the ghost of what he had lost, and he could not bear the reminder. He convinced himself that distance was survival, that it was better this way.Rose, meanwhile, drowned in her own pain. She stayed locked in her room, the curtains drawn, her body weaker, her heart crushed. Sometimes she thought she could still feel the weight of the child inside her,

I want a divorce

The heavy oak door shut behind Dante with a soft thud. Vittorio’s study smelled of leather, smoke, and the faint tang of old whiskey. The older man sat behind his carved desk, a cigar balanced between his fingers, his eyes narrowing the moment Dante stepped inside.“Did you bring my grandson with you?” Vittorio asked sarcastically. “Oh! I forgot he won't be born.”Dante didn’t flinch. He crossed the room with steady steps, every inch of him composed, unreadable. When he stopped before the desk, his voice came out calm, almost detached.“I have a solution. One that will make Corona Nera untouchable for generations.”Vittorio’s brows pulled together, but his gaze sharpened with curiosity. “Go on.”“I want a divorce,” Dante said without hesitation. “And I want to marry Bianca Ricci.”The name hung heavy in the air. Vittorio stilled, his cigar pausing at his lips.Dante pressed forward, his voice calm, logical, cal

You taste like sin

Bella didn’t bother to knock. She shoved the door open and stormed into Dante’s wing, her cane striking the floor in sharp, angry beats.“What the hell have you done?” Her voice cracked through the air, sharper than the glass of the decanter on his desk. “You think marrying that bitch is the answer?”Dante sat in the armchair, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand. He didn’t even flinch at her words. “It’s none of your business, Bella.”Bella’s jaw tightened, her eyes blazing as she took another step forward. “None of my business? She is under this roof, Dante. She is carrying the weight of this family’s cruelty every single day, and you—” her voice broke with rage “—you are the only one she had left. And you’ve gutted her.”Dante’s grip on the glass tightened until his knuckles turned white. “You think I don’t know what I’ve done?” he bit out. His voice was low, dangerous, but hollow beneath.“Do you?” Bella snapped. “You’re Vittorio’

We are going to ruin him

The study was thick with heat and whiskey. Papers had been swept aside, Bianca’s blouse hung half open, her lipstick was smeared from Luca’s mouth. She was perched on the edge of his desk, legs still draped around his waist, her pulse slowly settling.She traced her finger lazily along his jaw, eyes glittering. “How did you know?” Her voice was breathless but curious, tinged with admiration. “That he would go crawling to Vittorio and propose marriage with me?”Luca smirked, pouring himself a fresh glass of whiskey. He handed it to her before taking one for himself. “Because Dante is not as clever as he thinks he is. He believes he’s playing the board, but every move he makes, I’ve already seen three steps ahead.” He took a slow sip, watching her with a wolf’s satisfaction. “Predictable men are the easiest to corner.”Bianca let out a low laugh, the kind that purred with victory. She leaned forward and kissed him, tentative at first, then deeper,

Two contradictions

The next morning, Rose forced herself out of bed. Her body still ached, but it was her mind that kept her moving. Every smile from the maids, every tray of food, every glance over her shoulder now felt like a lie waiting to be uncovered. She began watching them closely, noting who brought her meals, who lingered too long in her room, who touched her medicine bottles.When Caterina came later that afternoon, Rose was at her writing desk, pretending to leaf through a book she wasn’t reading. Caterina moved slowly, her cane tapping softly against the floor, and set down a small basket of fruit.“I thought you might need something fresh,” Caterina said with a gentle smile. “How are you holding up?”Rose thanked her, and for a few minutes they sat together in silence. Caterina peeled an orange with careful fingers, offering a slice. Rose took it but barely tasted it.“Are you well?” Caterina asked at last, her tone gentle.Rose hesit

A spoiled brat playing queen

The corridors smelled faintly of lavender oil and old stone. Rose had again forced herself out of her wing that evening, craving air that didn’t taste like confinement. She kept her steps measured, her hands folded before her, though her body still felt heavy with aches she couldn’t name.She had almost reached the inner courtyard when a sharp voice, honeyed with malice, cut across the quiet.“Well, well. Look who wanders.”Bianca’s eyes glittered as they settled on Rose, scanning her with the kind of appraisal reserved for horses at auction.Rose stiffened, her fingers tightening in her skirts. She had no wish for an encounter. “Bianca,” she murmured, intending to pass.But Bianca shifted to block her path, the silk of her gown whispering as she moved. “How bold of you to leave your wing. I thought women who fail their wombs prefer shadows.”The words landed like knives. Rose’s stomach twisted, but she kept

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