All Chapters of Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Ivy jumped, her hand flying instinctively to the necklace. She turned around to find Isabella standing a few paces behind, her arms folded, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp as needles.Ivy stiffened, but didn’t retreat. “I didn’t ask for it,” she said simply. “Nonno gave it to me.”Isabella took a single slow step forward, her heels making a soft clicking sound against the marble. “Well played, Ivy. Honestly, I’m impressed.” Her lips curled upward, though it lacked all warmth. “Sneaking around, playing the little lamb, all while planning how to steal my inheritance. Brilliant, really.”Ivy’s brows rose, not in anger, but in dry amusement. “Are we really doing this here? In the hallway?”“You think you’ve won.” Isabella’s voice dropped a note. “But I won’t allow it. Not now, not ever. Fortunately…” she trailed off with a poisonous smirk, “there’s Luca Santini to do my dirty work for me this time.”Ivy’s spine straightened. Her eyes didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled — and it was

The dining room was a marvel of old-world splendor: mahogany furniture, tall arched windows dressed in ivory drapes, gold-rimmed porcelain, and a gleaming chandelier that threw fractured light across the polished surface of the long table.Ivy entered on Lorenzo’s arm, head high, her lips set in a quiet line. She had changed her outfit to a pale pink blouse tucked into a charcoal gray skirt, her hair loose around her shoulders.She’d left the necklace in Lorenzo’s suite. At the far end of the table, Olivia stood speaking softly to a server. She looked up as they entered.“There you are,” she said with a smile. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost upstairs.”Ivy forced a polite smile. “I needed a moment to freshen up,” she said.Olivia’s eyes dropped to her neckline, immediately noting the absence of the rubies. “Ah,” she murmured. “That’s a shame. It looked so lovely on you earlier.”Before Ivy could respond, Isabella strolled in, wine glass already in hand, her movements fluid

Some days had passed since Giovanni's last failed ploy. Life at the Martinelli estate had settled into a tense kind of routine: peaceful on the surface but still buzzing with the undercurrent of secrets, eyes that watched, and silence that screamed.Ivy's mornings were now bookended with vitamin-laced juices, herb-infused broths, and tasteless grain bowls, all neatly scheduled by Olivia's personal dietician.According to the strict meal plan, Ivy was to avoid red meat, processed carbs, sugars, excessive salt, and even certain fruits. It was as if every bite she took had been calculated to align with Olivia’s rigid image of the ideal Martinelli heir.By the sixth day, Ivy could barely take it anymore. Around noon, her stomach growled with a hunger that oat crackers and celery sticks could not silence.Her craving for something real — something indulgent, juicy, and satisfying — finally outweighed her desire to stay invisible.She padded down to the kitchen, her silk slippers barely mak

In Salvatore’s dimly lit study, the scent of old books and cigar smoke clung to the air like ghosts of old secrets. Lorenzo stood with his arms crossed, facing his grandfather across the ornate desk. Salvatore leaned back in the leather chair, exhaling slowly. “I’m not saying I trust him. I’m saying we can’t afford to corner him,” he said wisely.“Giovanni’s a snake,” Lorenzo said. “He’s shown us that again and again. He lured Ivy into a fake meeting just days ago. If I hadn’t caught it, God knows what might’ve happened.”Salvatore gave a slow nod. “Yes, but a snake that’s cornered will bite harder. He knows everything. The accounts. The laundering routes. Even the identities of our allies in Caracas and Marseille.”“So, what do you suggest?” Lorenzo asked curtly. “That we keep feeding him bits of information while he poisons us from within?”“No,” Salvatore said. “We invite him to the table. One meeting. One test. We look him in the eye and figure out if he’s still salvageable, or i

Olivia remained in the dining hall, her manicured nails drumming lightly on the dark wood of the long table. The chandelier above cast crystalline light across her strained features. Her phone, resting face-up on the table, buzzed once. She picked it up quickly.It was Isabella. She answered.“I was wondering when you’d call,” Olivia said coolly, trying to hide the anxiety that pressed against her chest like a vice.“I’m not calling to explain myself,” came Isabella’s voice, smug and crisp through the line. “I’m calling to give you an order.”Olivia’s lips thinned. “You’re giving me an order?”“Yes, Mother,” Isabella confirmed. “You’re going to confess to poisoning Ivy.”There was a long pause followed by, “Are you out of your mind?”“Not at all,” Isabella replied sweetly. “In fact, I’ve never been more in control.”Olivia’s nostrils flared. “Why would I do that?” she asked furiously.“Because if you don’t,” Isabella said, her tone dropping an octave, “I’ll tell Luca Santini who reall