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Lahat ng Kabanata ng 280 Days With The Mafia King: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

162 Kabanata

Chapter 11: The Blood-Stained Vow

Mariella's POV The smell of expensive leather and the faint, woody scent of Luciano’s cologne had just begun to feel grounding when the first bullet shattered the silence.It wasn't like the movies. There was no slow-motion grace. There was only the ear-splitting crack of glass, the violent lurch of the armored SUV, and the sudden, suffocating weight of Luciano’s body slamming against mine as he shoved me toward the floorboards."Stay down! Don't move!" his voice barked, stripped of the strange warmth he’d shown just minutes ago during our wedding photos. I pressed my cheek into the plush carpet, my heart hammering against my ribs, wondering if this was how things would end. Outside, it had turned into a nightmare of gunfire and screeching tyres. I could hear the heavy thuds of bullets hitting the reinforced plating of the car. "Luciano?" I gasped, the name tasting like ash.He didn't answer. I looked up just enough to see him pull a sleek, black handgun from beneath his jacket. He

Chapter 12: The Penance of Silence

Mariella’s POVThe silence of the mansion was different from the silence of the convent. In the convent, the stillness felt heavy, yes, but woven with the intentions of peace. Once Dante had dropped me at the door of my room, I collapsed onto the bed. I reached for the nightstand, my fingers trembling as they fumbled for the small, worn set of wooden rosary beads I had kept hidden in my palm since the ceremony. They were smooth, polished by years of my own nervous friction. I tried to begin the familiar rhythm—Hail Mary, full of grace, but the words stuck in my throat. How could I ask for grace when I was sitting in a room bought with blood? I had traded my freedom for a contract of 280 days, and today, I had almost died because of it.I closed my eyes, trying to center my spirit. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. But I did want. I wanted to be back in the laundry room, smelling of cheap soap and steam, far away from the "Black King" and his underlings. I wanted to know how

Chapter 13: The Judas at the Table

Mariella’s POVMorning came by in the most intrusive manner; perhaps it just felt that way since I hadn't slept. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I would remember the ambush from yesterday.I spent the early hours staring at the crucifix on the wall, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the smooth surface of my rosary. I didn't pray, not exactly. I just sat in the heavy silence, wondering if God had turned His back on me the moment I signed that contract, or if He was simply waiting to see how much I could endure.A sharp knock at the door made me jump, the beads clicking loudly against my nightstand."The Boss is expecting you for breakfast," a voice called out. Not Glenda’s. It was a man’s voice—flat, professional, and entirely devoid of warmth.I dressed in a hurry, choosing a simple cream-colored dress. As I walked down the long hallway toward the dining room, my stomach churned. It wasn't just the morning sickness; it was simply the fact that I had to eat breakfast with Luciano.

Chapter 14: Right or Wrong

Mariella's POV Before I could say anything, Enzo slammed his hands against the table, making me flinch. He really did terrify me.He looked at me, then at Luciano, his eyes darting like a trapped animal."What the hell are you talking about?" Enzo flared up, his voice cracking with a sudden, violent defensiveness. He took a step closer, ignoring the protocol of silence. "Who do you think you are? You come in here, a girl who’s been here for just a couple of months, and you start pointing fingers? I’ve served the De Luca family for three years!""Back off, Enzo," Dante warned, his voice low and dangerous."No! I won't have some... some girl from a church lie about me!" Enzo shouted, his face turning a mottled red. "She’s crazy! Boss, you can’t listen to her! She doesn't know anything about this life!"Luciano didn't look at Enzo. He kept his eyes on me, his expression unreadable. He reached out, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Mariella. Look at me."I forced myself to

Chapter 15: Suspicions

Mariella’s POVThe aftermath of the breakfast was as clear as day; everyone felt tense. I returned to my room, not being able to concentrate in the living room, but even in my room, I couldn't help but be restless. Every few minutes, I found myself standing by the window, staring out at the manicured lawns, my ears straining for sounds I didn't truly want to hear.I knew where they had taken Enzo. I knew what happened in the levels beneath this house, the places where the sunlight couldn't reach and where prayers were drowned out by the concrete.I sat on the edge of my bed, my hands clasped so tightly in my lap that my knuckles turned white. I thought about the Sisters at the convent. They spoke often of the "truth setting one free," but they had never mentioned that the truth could be such a burden. By pointing my finger at Enzo, I had cut my ties to the innocent girl who lived in the orphanage laundry room. I had stepped into the circle of Luciano’s power, and the blood that was

Chapter 16: A Sense Of Normalcy

Mariella's POV The hours bled into evening, and after spending my day in the library, still being under subtle surveillance, I retired to my bedroom. I stayed in the dark, not wanting to turn on the lights, until the door opened again.This time, it was Luciano.He looked different. The blazer was gone, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and there was a dark smear on his cuff that I knew wasn't ink. But his face wasn't the face of a man who had just spent hours in a torture chamber. He looked almost... satisfied."He talked," Luciano said, walking toward the small table in the center of the room. He set a heavy, leather-bound folder down. "You were right. It was the Moreni family. They paid him to leak the route. They wanted to end the De Luca line before it could even begin.""What will happen to him?" I asked, though I already knew the answer."He’s been dealt with," Luciano dismissed, as if he were talking about a broken piece of furniture. He looked at me, his gaze lingering on m

Chapter 17: Saint or Sinner?

Mariella's POV I woke up the next morning, surprised that Luciano had indeed been serious about getting a doctor. I had said I was dizzy last night, but that was more because of everything that had been happening. I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers unconsciously knotting the silk of my robe. Luciano stood by the window, his back to me, looking out over the courtyard we had walked through just hours ago. He was back to his regular self, the "unusually good mood" from the terrace locked away. Near the door, Dante leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his eyes tracking the doctor’s every move with the intensity of a hawk watching a mouse."Blood pressure is slightly elevated, but given the... recent happenings, it’s to be expected," Dr. Valli murmured, stowing his stethoscope. He turned to Luciano, ignoring me as if I were a piece of equipment being serviced. "The pregnancy is progressing normally. However, she is showing signs of acute stress-induced exhaustion. If she

Chapter 18: The King’s Court

Mariella's POV The dinner was supposed to be a formal introduction, a way to cement my place in the De Luca household. Instead, it felt like I was thrown into a den of lions.I stood before the full-length mirror in my room, the diamond necklace Luciano had given me cold against my neck. I looked like a stranger. The cream-colored silk dress draped elegantly over my frame, hiding the slight, barely-there swell of my stomach, but it couldn't hide the hollow look in my eyes. I reached for my rosary on the vanity, but I hesitated. In this house, even a symbol of God felt like an admission of weakness."You look like you're going to a funeral," Glenda murmured from the doorway, her voice soft."I feel like I'm the one being buried," I replied, my voice shallow.The arrival of Marcello De Luca had changed the atmosphere. As I walked down the grand staircase toward the dining hall, I could feel his presence before I saw him. In the drawing room, Luciano stood by the hearth, a glass of win

Chapter 19: Nothing But a Vessel

Mariella’s POVThe morning after the dinner felt like waking up in a house that had been subtly redesigned while I slept. The air was different—sharper, colder, and smelling of a perfume that wasn't mine. It was a heavy, floral scent that seemed to cling to the velvet curtains and the silk wallpaper, a territorial marking that made my stomach turn before I even swung my legs out of bed.I sat on the edge of the mattress, my head throbbing. The doctor’s warning about "stress-induced exhaustion" felt like an understatement. My entire body felt like it was made of glass, and one loud noise might shatter me into a thousand pieces. I reached for my nightstand, my fingers searching for the worn wood of my rosary. I needed the familiar touch of the beads to remind me that there was a world beyond these walls.I had just closed my eyes, my thumb resting on the crucifix, when the door clicked open.I didn't hear a knock. In this house, privacy was becoming a luxury I could no longer afford. I

Chapter 20: Complex Feelings

Mariella's POV Luciano, being Luciano, did indeed leave without even attempting to talk to me. I know I shouldn't be disappointed after all, it is him at the end of the day, but it hurt. “How could he not even care that he had hurt me?” I muttered to myself. I sighed. I was the one expecting too much from someone who had zero feelings for me or for anyone, really. “Let's do something to keep ourselves busy,” I said, rubbing my belly.I spent most of the morning in the library, trying to find solace in the rows of books that didn't judge me. But the peace was gone. Every time a floorboard creaked or a shadow moved past, I thought it was her. I thought it was Sophia coming back to remind me how little I mattered.I found myself back at the shelf where I had found the Santini accounts. I wanted to shake off the thoughts that my father was a collaborator. I wanted to prove the vision wrong. He was a victim, I told myself, a mantra to drown out the memory of his voice in the vision. He

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