All Chapters of Claimed By The Five Mafia Brothers : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ARIA POVThe keys land on the table with a loud clink.“Road trip,” Nico announces at breakfast.It’s 8am. I’m halfway through my coffee.“Where?” Marco asks. He doesn’t look up from his plate.“Nowhere,” Nico says, grinning at me. “We’re teaching Aria to drive.”I choke on my coffee. “What?”“You’ve been here a month and you haven’t left the property,” Nico says. “That’s sad. Also illegal, probably. So today. Driving lessons.”Luca looks up from his phone. “No.”“Luca,” Nico whines. “Come on. I’ll be safe. I promise.”“You promise nothing,” Enzo says.“I promise,” Dante says quietly.Everyone goes quiet.Because Dante talking means he’s serious.Luca sighs. “Fine. But you. With her.” He points at Marco. “And me. Following in the other car.”Marco finally looks up. “Why me?”“Because you’re the only one she listens to when you yell,” Luca says.“I don’t yell.”“You do.”Nico claps. “Perfect! Let’s go!”The garage has five cars. All black. All expensive.Nico picks the SUV. “Big. Safe.

ARIA POVI wake up to silence. That’s new. Usually Nico is yelling about something by 7am. Usually Dante is already in the kitchen. Usually Marco is running. Today, nothing.I’m still wearing Marco’s hoodie. I told myself I’d take it off last night. I didn’t. I shower. I brush my teeth. I avoid the mirror. Because last night happened and I don’t know how to act normal after it.When I go downstairs, the kitchen is empty. Cold coffee in the pot. Dishes in the sink. There’s a note on the counter in Luca’s handwriting. _Grocery run. 9am. Be ready._ It’s 8:45.I’m halfway through toast when they start coming in, one by one, like they’re all avoiding each other. Nico first. Hair wet, eyes red. “Morning,” he mumbles, and steals my toast. “Morning,” I say back. Enzo comes next. He nods at me, gets coffee, doesn’t talk. Dante puts a plate in front of me. Eggs. “Thanks,” I say. He just nods. Marco is last. He stops when he sees me. Sees the hoodie. His eyes flick over me and then away. “Mornin

ARIA POVThe house is too quiet the morning after Victoria.Everyone’s walking around like I’m glass.I’m in the pantry because Dante handed me a clipboard at 9am and said “Inventory. It helps.”Boring helps. Boring means I don’t have to think about Velvet. About Russo firing me. About the rain and the black car and Luca Morrettis saying “Job offer.”Flour. Sugar. Rice. Pasta. I count. I write. My handwriting still looks shaky.The door opens.Marco.Two mugs of coffee. He sets one on the shelf next to me.“You’re up early,” he says.“I’m always up early,” I say. “Waitress habits.”He leans against the doorframe. Sweatpants, Morrettis tee. “Luca’s been in his office since 6.”“About me?”“About everything,” he says. “But you too.”I write _3 bags flour_. The pen drags.“Do you hate me for it?” I ask.“For what?”“For getting fired. For being broke. For having nothing before you.”Marco comes in and shuts the pantry door. Just us and shelves.“I don’t hate you,” he says. “I hate that R

ARIA POVI wake up at 10:47am to sunlight and silence.No alarm. No bus. No Russo yelling “line!”For a second I panic. Where am I?Right. The Morrettis house.My phone has 3 texts.Marco: _Breakfast in the kitchen whenever_Nico: _You alive??_Dante: _Soup left in fridge. Heat it._No one’s asking if I’m okay. They’re just... leaving space.I shower. The water is hot. I didn’t pay for it. That feels weird.I pull on jeans and one of Marco’s hoodies I stole from the laundry room. It’s huge and smells like him.The house is alive when I come down.Luca is on the phone in the living room, pacing. “I don’t care what Caruso wants. She’s not getting it.” He sees me and stops. “Morning.”“Morning,” I say.He nods and goes back to his call.Nico is on the floor playing a video game. He pauses it. “You want pancakes? I’m making pancakes.”“I can make them,” I say automatically. Waitress brain.“I got it,” he says. “You sit. You’re off duty.”Off duty. That phrase feels foreign.Enzo is at the

ARIA POVI don’t sleep.The envelope is in my drawer. _For Aria. Open when you’re 21._It’s 3:14am. The house is quiet.Soft knock.“Yeah?”Door opens. Dante. Sweatpants, hair messy.“You okay?”“No,” I say. “I’m opening it.”He comes in and sits on the floor next to my bed.“I’m here,” he says.I pull out the envelope. My hands shake. His handwriting. _Wells._I open it._Kid,__If you’re reading this, you’re 21. Happy birthday. I’m sorry I’m not there to make you eggs.__I wasn’t good at a lot of things. But I was good at you.__There’s stuff I never told you. Because I wanted to protect you. And because I was scared.__Your mom’s name is Isabella Vale. She’s not dead. She left when you were 2. She had reasons. I had reasons. It got messy.__She comes from money. Bad money. The Vale family. People who don’t let go. I changed our last name to Wells to keep you safe. To keep you out of it.__If you’re reading this, it means they found you. Or you found them. Either way, I’m sorry.__T