All Chapters of Married To The Mafia King, Pregnant With His Heir: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

Isabella POV The evening had been ordinary right up until it wasn’t, which was the cruelest part of how it happened, because I had spent the whole day thinking about wedding colors that would never matter and a future that had already stopped existing without my knowledge. I had come home from the flower shop with samples of ivory ranunculus tucked in tissue paper, the kind Marco said reminded him of the morning we met, and I remember laughing to myself in the car about how ridiculous it was to fall in love with a flower because a man once said something sweet about it. The house was quiet when I let myself in, quieter than it should have been for a Tuesday evening, and the only light on was the one over the stove, the same bulb my mother used to leave burning for me whenever I came home late as a teenager. I found my father at the kitchen table, and something about the stillness of him made the ranunculus samples feel suddenly foolish in my hands. “Sit down, Bella,” he said. I

Isabella POV Sunrise came the way it always did, indifferent to the fact that it was ending my old life along with the darkness, and I stood at the window of a bedroom that wasn’t mine yet, watching gold light spill over a garden I would never learn to think of as home. Sofia, Damiano’s younger sister, had helped me dress an hour earlier, her hands gentler than I expected from someone born into a family capable of the violence I’d witnessed in that driveway. She hadn’t spoken much, only fixed the clasp at the back of my gown and smoothed the fabric at my shoulders. I hadn’t asked her opinion of any of this. I suspected, from the tightness around her eyes, that she didn’t have one she was willing to share. The dress itself was ivory, cut simply, nothing like the gown I had once imagined wearing for Marco. That thought lodged itself in my chest like a splinter I couldn’t reach, something that wasn’t shifting beneath me the way everything else had these past two days. When the car

Isabella POV Morning arrived with a knock at my door, brisk and businesslike, and a member of the household staff informed me that Damiano expected me in his study within the hour. I dressed slowly, deliberately, taking far longer than necessary simply because the one power left to me in this house was the pace of my own compliance, and I intended to spend it carefully. His study sat at the end of the east wing, a room of dark wood and heavy curtains that seemed to swallow sunlight rather than welcome it. When I entered, he was seated behind a desk large enough to double as a fortress wall, a cup of espresso cooling untouched at his elbow, and he gestured toward the chair opposite him without looking up from whatever documents held his attention. “Sit,” he said. I remained standing. “I’d rather not.” That earned me a glance, brief and assessing, before he set the papers aside and folded his hands atop the desk, studying me. “There are terms to this marriage,” he said. “I’d p

Isabella POVThe estate had barely finished cleaning up the blood by the time Enzo found me on the terrace two days later, his expression careful in a way that told me whatever he was about to say wouldn’t be simple.“There’s someone at the front gate asking for you,” he said. “He says his name is Marco.”My stomach dropped in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the particular ache of hearing a name I had spent every waking hour trying not to think about.“Tell him to leave,” I said, though the words came out less certain than I meant them to.“Damiano already knows he’s there,” Enzo said. “He said the decision is yours.”That surprised me more than Marco’s arrival had. I had expected Damiano to have him turned away before he’d even finished parking, some display of ownership dressed up as protection. Instead he was leaving the door open, and something about that felt more unsettling than a flat refusal would have.I found Damiano in his study, watching t