All Chapters of The Mafia's Substitute Bride: Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

Except she didn't.The television still glowed faintly against the far wall, the sound muted to a low buzz that's barely heard, except the flickering tv light catches anyone's attention. Valentina was curled sideways on the couch, the empty popcorn bowl balanced against her thigh, a few kernels and popcorn around her legs and in the bowl, her head resting on the back cushion. She hadn’t meant to drift, but the warmth of the blanket and the buttery smell had worked like a lullaby.The rain had started again at some point, thin streaks sliding down the windows, tapping the glass with a impatient rhythm. Somewhere in the house, the sounds of the chefs cleaning up the kitchen, the drawers closing, the pans clinking softly as they made dinner resonated around the house. The scent of melted butter now overpowered by whatever was being prepared.She stretched her toes under the blanket, absently watching the flicker of light across the coffee table. It wasn’t quite late, or maybe it was, bec

The morning came with a different kind of energy. Valentina stirred awake still caught between the disbelief and the warmth of last night’s reveal. She could almost hear the silky cloth sliding off again, almost see the deep obsidian shine of the Droptail catching the faint drizzle of dawn. It wasn’t a dream.Thankfully.When she turned her head toward the window, she could already imagine the driveway glistening with yesterday’s rain, and right there under a discreet protective cover sat the impossible gift.She stayed in bed a little longer than usual, hand absently resting on her stomach, before reaching for her phone. Only one person she needed to call before facing the day.“Cam?” Her voice cracked with suppressed laughter as soon as the screen connected.On the other end, Camilla was sprawled on her couch in pajamas, mug in hand. “You’re glowing way too much for this hour. What happened? Don’t tell me he—oh wait. He did something, didn’t he?”Why was her guesses always right? It

The day opened with noise. Even though the west wing wasn’t attached directly to the main mansion, Valentina could hear it from her bed: ladders clattering, men’s voices calling to one another, the scrape of heavy furniture being dragged across polished floors. Every so often Nancy’s voice cut through loudly, angrily, precise, leaving no room for whatever confusion was growing.Val lay on her side, blankets tucked under her chin, listening. For a moment she thought it was almost comical, how her birthday was being treated like state business. A coronation, not a party. She padded out to the balcony, brushing hair from her face, and looked across, when she couldn't see much, but Staff streamed in and out of the west wing to the side.She had to go out to take a peep.Rolls of deep carpet were being unrolled across the ballroom floor, chandeliers lowered for cleaning before being lifted again, tall arrangements of flowers rejected with a single tilt of Nancy’s head. Florists, sound tech

The morning of her birthday unfolded and shockingly it was a total contrast to what Valentina and everybody in the household expected, it was like every other morning, but the silence didn’t quite belong to a house preparing to host one of the most anticipated gatherings of the year, and everyone knew what it was. Still, the morning was shockingly calm. Valentina stirred awake first, silk brushing against her skin as she slipped from beneath the heavy duvet . The room was still dusky, the curtains only half-drawn, but she could see Lucas lying peacefully, his chest rising in steady rhythm. He looked peaceful in sleep, stripped of that iron composure he wore while awake, or the worry. His mouth was slightly parted as though even his dreams had let him rest. She stared at him a second longer before turning away to get ready for the day.Barefoot, she padded across the cool marble, she washed her face and brushed her hair into some order before heading downstairs. Her nightgown shuffling

The breakfast was a study in contrasting energies. The two influencers, Naya and Celeste, were a whirlwind of excited chatter and no stop talking porcelain, their voices bounced off the high ceilings of the dining room. They didn't fail to dissect every detail of the upcoming party with the unnecessary fervor of art critics at a premiere, and their questions about the Rolls-Royce Droptail and the guest list wouldn't stop flowing.“So, the dress code is strictly black-tie, right?” Naya was asking, her phone held aloft as if to record the answer. “Because I have this stunning gold lamé gown, but I can switch to the black Valentino if it’s more…”Val was about to give a response when her phone, sitting face-down on the table next to her napkin, began to vibrate insistently. The screen lit up, casting a faint glow on the polished wood. She didn’t need to flip it over to know who it was as the specific, jarring ringtone, a clipped, classical piece she had set for a specific person, was eno