Todos os capítulos de Claimed By The Five Mafia Brothers : Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

Victoria POVI don’t knock. That’s the first rule of taking something. You don’t ask. You walk in like you already own it.The hallway is quiet. Aria’s door is still closed. Good. Let her sit in there and bleed quietly.Luca is in the kitchen. He’s standing at the counter with a mug in his hand but he hasn’t drank it. Staring at the window. Like if he looks hard enough, he can see a way out of this. “Morning,” I say. Bright. Casual. He turns. He doesn’t answer.I walk past him. Heel clicks on the tile. Deliberate. I stop at the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. “I’m going to put our things in the master,” I say over my shoulder. “Our things.” Not _my_ things. _Our_.His jaw ticks. “That’s not—” “What?” I cut in. I turn back to him. Smile. “That’s not your room? It’s your house, Luca. And I’m your wife.” I say _wife_ slow. Like I’m tasting it.He doesn’t argue. Because he can’t. Because the security team told us to be seen together. Because if he fights me now, Aria gets hurt. I know

Aria POVThe table is too long. That’s the first thing I notice. Eight chairs. Only three of us. And the space between us feels like miles.7:30pm. Dinner. Victoria set it herself. Candles. White plates. Wine I didn’t ask for. She’s at the head of the table. Of course she is. Cream dress. Hair perfect. Like this is a photoshoot and not a war.Luca is on her right. He hasn’t looked at me once. His jaw is tight. His hand is in a fist under the table. I bet he still has the hair tie in it. I’m across from him. At the other end. Like I’m a guest in my own house.“Food’s getting cold,” Victoria says. Bright. She gestures to the plates. Pasta. Salad. Bread. All the things my mom used to make. I don’t pick up my fork.“Aria,” Victoria says. My name in her mouth sounds wrong. “I made this for you. I thought... family dinner, right? We should start somewhere.” Family. That word again.Luca finally moves. He reaches for the water. Drinks. Sets it down too hard. Still no eye contact.“Did you li

Aria POVI don’t sleep.I sit on the floor until 4am with my hair tie in my hand. Mine. Even if it smells like her perfume now. At 5am I shower until the water goes cold. At 6am I braid my hair without it. At 6:55am I hear footsteps in the hall.7:02am. There’s a knock. Soft. Then the door opens before I can say anything.Victoria.She’s already dressed. Cream dress. Hair curled. Makeup perfect. Like she slept eight hours and woke up to win. She’s holding a mug. Two mugs.“Morning,” she says. Sweet. Too sweet. “I made coffee. Thought we could start the day right. You know, for the press.”I don’t move from my bed. “I’m not drinking coffee with you.”She smiles and sets both mugs on my desk anyway. “You don’t have to. It’s just… Luca asked me to check on you. He’s worried you didn’t sleep.”He didn’t ask.He was in the living room all night. I heard him.I stay quiet.She walks around my room like she owns it. Touches the frame on my desk. My mom. Moves it half an inch to the left. “Yo

Aria POVThe press is gone by 10:22am. The lights. The champagne. The fake smiles. All of it packed up and driven away. And now the house is too quiet. Like the silence after a gunshot.I’m still in the blue dress. Still holding my hair tie in my pocket. My knuckles are white. Victoria didn’t say a word to me after the last flash. She just walked upstairs with Luca. His hand on the small of her back. Like she belongs there. My stomach turns.10:24am. I hear their voices upstairs. Hers first. Soft. Then his. Low. Then a door closing. I don’t think. I just move. My feet take me upstairs before my brain can catch up. To their room. _Our room_, he said. Temporary.I knock once. Hard. No answer. I open it anyway.They’re standing too close. Victoria with her hand on his chest. Luca with his jaw tight. And on the dresser behind them? My hair ties. All three of them. Laid out in a line like trophies. My blood goes cold. Then hot.“What is this,” I say.Victoria turns. Slow. “Oh, Aria. We wer

ARIA POVThe library door clicks behind us.Lock.That sound is louder than the cameras were, louder than the comments, louder than Victoria’s text buzzing in my pocket.6:40pm.No cameras here, no perfume, no photos of them on the walls. Just books, leather, the smell of old paper and cedar. His cedar. The only thing in this house that still smells like him, and not her.Luca lets go of my hand, but he doesn’t go far. Three steps, then he turns and leans against the desk, arms crossed, like he’s trying to hold himself together.“You okay?” he asks.I don’t answer. I walk to the window, the curtains are closed. From here we can’t see the driveway, can’t see the press cars that left an hour ago, can’t see anything but our reflection in the glass. Me in blue, him in black, standing too far apart.“Aria.” My name again, softer this time, and it pulls at something in my chest.“What do you want me to say, Luca?” I turn. “That I’m fine? Because I’m not. Because the entire internet just dis