Todos os capítulos de Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

The visitor was Vittoria. Stout, matronly, and severe. She was dressed in a black gown that matched the unyielding expression on her face.She entered slowly, her presence filling the room like smoke. She closed the door behind her with care, not a slam — but the kind of final, measured click that made Isabella’s heart tick faster.Isabella didn’t stand. She shifted slightly in her seat and arranged her face into the mask of indifference she’d perfected long ago.Vittoria approached. The hem of her gown grazed the floor, whispering like a ghost with every step. She stopped just inches from Isabella, looming.She stared. Isabella stared back, cool and silent.“When they brought you here weeks ago,” Vittoria finally began, her voice low and charged, “I thought my darling Maria was finally going to get the justice she deserved. But no… it only marked the beginning of another season of agony for me.”Isabella said nothing. She knew the silence would goad Vittoria into saying more.“The me

Thirty-five years ago..."See you tonight at the club?" Valerio asked as he rolled out of bed beside Olivia.She stretched languidly under the thin bedsheet, her dark hair spilling across the pillow like ink. "You’ve worn me out already. I don’t think I have any energy left to match your rhythm on the dance floor."Valerio grinned, buttoning his white shirt, his gold chain catching the morning light. "Good. Save that energy for when I return later."Olivia didn’t reply. She simply propped herself up on one elbow and watched him get dressed, the way his muscles flexed beneath his crisp slacks, the way he smoothed his slicked-back hair. She still couldn’t believe a man like him was hers. Valerio Moretti — charming, feared, and sinfully handsome. Every woman at the club ogled him. But he was here, in her bed. With her!Valerio moved with the kind of arrogance that only came from knowing every woman in the city wanted a piece of him. God, he was gorgeous! Dark hair, sun-kissed olive ski

Olivia folded her arms and looked between the two younger women. “Do you need my guidance on how to plan the party?”“No, thank you,” Ivy said firmly, straightening her shoulders. Her voice was polite but clipped. “I’m sure Giulia and I can manage.”Olivia chuckled dryly. “You two have no experience with planning a lavishly extravagant party worthy of our patriarch, Salvatore Martinelli. Have you even compiled a guest list? What about the venue and decorations? Have you considered the variety of menus that will cater to the dietary needs of different guests? What have you even done so far?”“We’ve done enough,” Giulia said coolly. “Why don’t you go to your room and let us worry about these things?”Olivia laughed humorlessly. “I’ll have a word with Salvatore about this later. I’m sure the only reason he asked you two to plan his party is because of my absence. Now that I’m back, I’ll take that burden off of you — and save our family any unnecessary embarrassments.”Giulia inhaled slow

As Lorenzo stepped out of Salvatore’s study, the quiet of the hallway wrapped around him like a heavy cloak. His thoughts swirled with fragments of old betrayals, new responsibilities, and the quiet ache of guilt that clung to him like smoke.He’d barely gone a few steps when a maid rounded the corner, a neat stack of freshly laundered linens cradled in her arms.“Where is Signora Ivy?” he asked, pausing in his stride.The young maid stopped, blinking at the sudden question. “She’s in the solarium with Signorina Giulia, sir,” she responded.Lorenzo nodded once in acknowledgment and continued on, his steps picking up a little speed now. As he approached the solarium, the sound of feminine laughter echoed through the corridor: soft, melodic, and utterly disarming.He stopped just before the arched entrance and stood at an angle, hidden from their view.Inside, Ivy and Giulia were a vision of light and color. The table in front of them was scattered with open binders, pages of notes, str

The Martinelli mansion buzzed with anticipation. With just a week left until Salvatore’s birthday party, the air was thick with excitement and energy. The usually solemn corridors were now peppered with laughter, bursts of planning chatter, and the quiet hum of hired staff setting things in motion. Silk tablecloths were being delivered. Florists had begun arriving with trial arrangements. Even the security detail had been doubled in preparation for what would surely be one of the most lavish events of the year.Inside the enormous, gilded ballroom, now cleared of its antique furnishings and temporarily transformed into a design canvas, Ivy and Giulia stood with Mindy Walsh, the effervescent event coordinator Salvatore had reluctantly approved after seeing her impressive portfolio. Mindy, a tall, curvy woman in her mid-thirties with honey-blonde hair in loose curls and a wide Southern drawl, pointed to a corner of the room with a clipboard in one hand and a pencil tucked behind her