Lahat ng Kabanata ng Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don: Kabanata 211 - Kabanata 220

Lorenzo didn’t answer the call until he was inside his suite. “Yes, Luigi?” he said calmly. “Don Lorenzo, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time?” Luigi asked carefully. “No, you haven’t. Is there a problem?” Lorenzo asked. “Not really…” Luigi answered hesitantly, pausing before speaking again. “Signora Isabella seems unwell, but each time I ask her about it, she tells me she’s fine.” Lorenzo’s breath caught. Guilt gnawed at him. It had been two weeks since Isabella was rescued from La Rambla, and he hadn’t spoken to her once. Avoidance had been easier than confrontation, but avoidance had a way of turning into cruelty. Was her sudden illness a ruse to force his hand? “Why do you think she’s unwell?” Lorenzo asked.

"I can't wait to have this baby," Ivy sighed. "I'm officially tired of lugging him around." She shifted in her chair, one hand instinctively cradling her swollen belly as if Andrea might hear her complaint and take offence. She was relaxing in the solarium with her mother. The space was bathed in mid-afternoon light, the glass walls allowing the sun to pour in generously, warming the tiled floor beneath their feet.  

“I should have eliminated you when I had the opportunity,” Lorenzo said coldly. The words cut through the thick haze clouding Olivia’s mind, dragging her violently out of a drug-induced slumber. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy and reluctant, as she struggled to surface from the fog gripping her consciousness. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils, sharp and unforgiving. Slowly, painfully, the room came into focus. The first thing she saw was a pair of polished shoes. Her gaze travelled upward, inch by inch, until the man standing at the foot of the bed fully registered in her mind. Lorenzo. The expression on his face made her recoil instantly. Her breath caught in her throat as fear settled deep in her chest, thick and suffocating. For a brief, humiliating moment, she wished she could melt into the ma

Ivy sat with her back pressed against the rough trunk of an oak tree, its wide branches stretching overhead like tired arms shielding her from the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. The forest around her was deceptively calm: birds chirping in the distance, leaves rustling softly in the breeze, but her body told a different story. She was parched, her throat dry and burning. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but worse than that was the bone-deep exhaustion that made her limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. A few feet away, her captor lounged against another tree, one boot propped casually against the bark. He scrolled through his phone with infuriating calm, as though this were nothing more than a tedious wait at a bus stop. Yet the gun in his hand never wavered. It remained trained on her with chilling consistency, a silent reminder that her life, and the life growing inside her, hung entirely at his mercy

Inside the backseat, Ivy was wedged between Giulia and Evelyn, both women holding onto her as if sheer willpower could keep her grounded. “You’re doing great,” Giulia said frantically. “You’re doing so great, Ivy.” “I hate you,” Ivy snarled weakly. “Stop lying to me.” Evelyn let out a shaky laugh and said, “She’s definitely in labor.” Another contraction seized her and Ivy cried out again, clutching Giulia’s arm with surprising strength. “Breathe, sweetheart,” Evelyn pleaded. “Please breathe.” “I am breathing!” Ivy snapped. “It’s just not helping!” Giovanni twisted around in his seat. “You’re almost there. You’re doing amazing.” “Shut up,&rdquo