《Claimed By My Ex’s Mafia Father in-law 》全部章節：第 221 章 - 第 230 章

Chapter 221: Forever in the Quiet Valerio’s POVThe villa on the Amalfi coast had been Elena’s idea. She found it during one of those late-night scrolls through real-estate listings she thought I never noticed, a white stone house perched on a cliff above the sea, terraced gardens tumbling down to a private cove, rooms filled with light and old tile floors that stayed cool even in August. She showed me the photos one evening while Sofia was at a friend’s house for the night, her voice soft but certain when she said she wanted a place that was only ours, somewhere the world could not reach. I kissed her then, slow and deep, and told her to buy it the next morning. She did. We signed the papers in a sunlit office in Positano, then drove up the winding road to see it for the first time together.That first summer we spent there felt like stealing time from fate itself. Sofia was fifteen, all long limbs and sharp opinions, spending most days on the beach below the house with friends she

Chapter 223: The Last Whisper Valerio’s POVThe villa on the Amalfi coast had become our true anchor as the years stretched longer. Sofia was twenty-three now, living in Milan most of the time, working as an art restorer in a small studio near the Brera district. She came home every few months, bringing stories of fragile frescoes she had spent weeks coaxing back to life and photographs of the city lights reflected in the canals. She had her mother’s steady hands and quiet determination, her laughter still bright enough to fill a room, but she carried a calm independence that made Elena and me watch her with the same mixture of pride and quiet ache parents feel when their child no longer needs them to hold on.Elena and I had the house mostly to ourselves these days. The clinic in the village had grown into a small network of three locations, staffed by doctors and nurses she had trained herself. She still worked there three days a week, but the rest of her time belonged to the garde

Chapter 225: The Weight of Silence Nina’s POVThe cell felt smaller after Elena’s visit, though the walls had not moved and the bars had not tightened. The space between them and me had always been the same—cold iron, concrete floor, the faint smell of rust and damp—but now it carried her presence like an echo that refused to fade. I could still see the way her eyes had looked through the glass, steady and sad, not angry anymore, not pleading. Just finished. She had said goodbye the way someone closes a book they no longer need to read. I had watched her walk away and felt the air leave the room with her. For the first time in all these years I understood what it meant to be truly alone—not the kind of alone that comes from hiding, but the kind that comes from being seen and then set aside.Days blurred after that. The guards brought food I ate without tasting. They took me to the yard where I walked circles under a sky that looked the same every day, gray and distant. I no longer to

Chapter 227: Sofia’s Day Nina’s POVThe guard brought the newspaper on a Thursday in early May. He did not say why. He simply placed it on the tray beside the usual bread and soup, the front page folded open to the society section as though it had been left that way on purpose. I waited until he left before I touched it. My fingers trembled when I unfolded the paper. The photograph took up half the page.Sofia.She stood in a garden I recognized immediately—the one behind the Florence compound, roses in full bloom, sunlight filtering through the cypress trees. She wore a simple ivory dress that skimmed her shoulders and fell in soft layers to the ground. Her dark hair was half-up, half-down, small white flowers woven into the strands. She was laughing, head tilted back, eyes bright with joy. Matteo stood beside her, tall and steady, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back, looking at her the way men look when they know they have found something irreplaceable. Elena and Vale

Chapter 229: The Quiet Years Elena’s POVSofia’s wedding day lingered in the house long after the last guest left and the lanterns were taken down. The garden still smelled faintly of roses and lavender for weeks, petals scattered across the grass like confetti that refused to be swept away. I found myself walking the paths in the early mornings before the sun rose fully, barefoot on the cool stone, tracing the route Sofia had taken when she walked toward Matteo with her hand on Valerio’s arm. The memory played behind my eyes every time I passed the spot where she had paused to look at her grandmother’s grave, the small stone marker half-hidden by blooming lavender. I would stop there too, rest my palm against the warm stone, and whisper a quiet thank-you to the woman who had carried me through a life she never got to live fully herself.Valerio noticed the way I moved through the house those first months after the wedding. He never asked why I sometimes stood in Sofia’s old room, st