Todos los capítulos de MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING : Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO:The house felt different in the days after the kids asked about divorce.Not louder. Not quieter. Just be more careful. Like everyone was walking around something fragile that still sat in the middle of the living room even though no one named it out loud anymore.Lyra noticed it in the way June started hovering near doorways when she and Dimitri spoke in low voices. She noticed it in the way Theo watched his father put on a jacket, always checking to see if a bag came with it. Even Anna seemed clingier, reaching for whichever parent was closest the second the other left the room.Dimitri noticed it too. Lyra could tell by the extra patience in his voice when the kids asked the same questions twice, and by the way he started announcing where he was going even if it was only to the garage.On the third morning he came into the kitchen while she was making coffee and said, without preamble, “I’m going to start leaving the gun locked in the safe instead of the nightsta

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR:The crash from upstairs was so loud the baby monitor screeched with static.Lyra was on her feet before the sound finished echoing. “June?!”Dimitri moved faster. He took the stairs three at a time, gun already in his hand even though it was supposed to stay locked in the safe. Lyra followed hard on his heels, heart slamming against her ribs.They found June on the floor of her bedroom, the heavy bookshelf tipped over beside her, books scattered everywhere. She was sitting up, eyes wide, a thin line of blood running from a cut on her forehead.“I’m okay,” she said quickly, voice shaking. “I was trying to reach the top shelf. It just… fell.”Dimitri dropped to his knees so hard the floorboards groaned. He set the gun aside like it burned him and cupped her face with both hands, checking her pupils, her head, the cut. “Does anything else hurt? Your neck? Your back? Tell me the truth.”“Just my head a little.” Tears welled up. “I didn’t mean to. I only wanted the sket

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX:“I don’t want you carrying the gun anymore. Not even in the safe.”Lyra’s words hit the kitchen like a slap. She stood with her back against the counter, arms locked across her chest, the morning light making the exhaustion under her eyes look sharper.Dimitri set his coffee down slowly. “You’re serious.”“I’ve never been more serious.” Her voice stayed low so the kids wouldn’t hear from the living room, but it shook with the force of everything she had been holding. “I watched our daughter flinch from you. I watched you come into her room ready for a war because a bookshelf fell. And I can’t keep pretending that having it in the house — even locked up — is neutral. It’s not. It’s a reminder. For you. For them. For me.”“That gun kept us alive,” he said, the old edge creeping into his voice. “More than once.”“And now it’s keeping us from living.” She stepped closer, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Every time you check the safe, every time your hand twitches toward

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT: The plate shattered on the kitchen tile so hard the pieces skittered under the cabinets.June flinched. Theo froze with a glass halfway to his mouth. Anna started crying at the sharp noise. In the nursery, the baby let out a startled wail through the monitor.Dimitri was moving before the last shard stopped spinning. His hand went to his hip — to the place the gun used to live — and closed on nothing. The empty space seemed to knock the air out of him. He stood there in the middle of the kitchen, breathing too fast, eyes scanning windows and doors that showed nothing but the ordinary afternoon.Lyra set the dish towel down slowly. “It was a plate, Dimitri.”“I know.”“Then why do you look like someone just kicked the door in?”He didn’t answer right away. His hands flexed at his sides, open and useless. “Because my body still thinks that sound comes with people who want to hurt us. And I don’t have anything in my hands.”Lyra’s voice stayed quiet, but it carried

CHAPTER SEVENTY:“I can’t keep being the only one who believes we’re safe.”Lyra’s voice was low and shaking when she said it. She stood in the kitchen with her hands braced on the counter, back to him, like looking at him would make the words harder to hold onto.Dimitri stopped in the doorway. “What is that supposed to mean?”“It means I’m tired, Dimitri.” She turned. Her eyes were red, but her voice stayed steady in the way that meant she had already cried and decided to keep going anyway. “I’m tired of checking your face every time a door closes too hard. I’m tired of watching you fight yourself in the middle of the night. I’m tired of our kids learning how to read the temperature of this house before they even ask for breakfast.”“I’m doing what I said I would.”“You’re surviving what you said you would.” She took a step closer. “There’s a difference. Surviving looks like almost calling Viktor at two in the morning. Surviving looks like flinching at plates and bookshelves and the