All Chapters of Claimed by My Mafia Stepson : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Before my engagement to Androa, I used to be a ‘911 Dispatcher’...the one who stayed calm while the world shatteredI thought I’d heard every version of a human breaking—the screams of helplessness, the hollow silence after a gunshot, and the jagged pleas of a mother losing her child.But nothing in my professional life prepared me for the sound of my husband's breath hitched in another woman’s ear.Elisa arched her back as she bounced shamelessly on his c*ck.Androa’s hands which had been so gentle with me at the altar, were buried deep in her thighs, stroking while he drove into her with a raw, desperate violence that made my stomach lurch.I stood there like a statue— unable to tear my eyes away from the scene. Every bounce... every moan a stab to my already broken heart.I wanted to scream. To turn and run— but my legs refused to move.Then they saw me.Elisa didn't gasp or hurry out of the room as most mistresses would.She simply got off Androa and grabbed her clothes on the flo

Lightning streaked across the nightsky.I turned toward the voice. And it was the stranger from the club.The reporter froze as though he’d seen death itself— then stumbled backward and ran off like a scared mouse.I turned to face him… and couldn't breathe.He towered over me—his face unreadable, his breath steady and calm—while mine came in short, jagged hitches.The black of his leather jacket was a sharp contrast to the white of my silk nightdress.Something about the way he looked at me felt like I was finally stepping into a chapter I had been waiting for.The club’s bass thumped through the walls, vibrating beneath my feet.“Thank you.” I swallowed. “Though I had that under control.”He raised a brow.No words.I let out a humorless chuckle and reached into my purse for my phone. It was difficult to think straight with him standing right there.“I’ll book a cab now.”I unlocked my phone and froze—No signal. Not even a single bar.I walked to and fro— raising my phone in the a

The quiet of the room was shattered as the glass met the floor. Whiskey spilled. Shards flew. The room was a mess. But I was a disaster—too mortified to blink. What had I done? The question echoed again in my head... louder this time. My chest heaved. Like I’d just outrun something I couldn’t name. Heat rushed to my face. Followed quickly by something colder. Panic? Shame? I took a step away from him. Then another. “I—I” My voice failed me. Nothing came out. Not even a lie. I didn’t even know what I was trying to say. Apologize? Explain? Pretend it hadn’t just happened? I left home broken because Androa had betrayed our marriage. And here I stood, just as terrible as him. Maybe worse. He hadn’t hesitated to be with his mistress… and neither had I. At least Androa knew what he was risking. I—on the other hand, didn’t even stop to care. I let someone I barely knew take me to a hotel suite and give me the best orgasm of my life. He made me feel cherished. Desired. My wh

—Dominic—The ride to the mansion was long—too long. I leaned back against the leather seat as the city blurred past my window. It had been months. Maybe longer.I adjusted my cufflinks and met Marco's gaze through the rear mirror. He didn't say a word. Not immediately. He waited until we started up the hill leading to the mansion before he spoke.“You’ve already decided. Haven’t you?”I stared out the window. “I just have a feeling she's in trouble.”“She married him, sir. Not under a gun. What if this is what she chose?”“I’ve seen how he operates. He doesn’t hold a weapon to their heads—he holds the world hostage.”The iron gates of the Morvanti mansion swung open before us—already expecting me. I glanced at my father’s men stationed around the estate. Most of them already on my payroll.My men didn't wait for the convoy to come to a complete stop. They jumped out of the cars and scanned the perimeter.Marco was at my side instantly, his hand hovering near his holster as he opene

—Madeline— The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, my hands flying to his chest. His hands slipped from his pockets with lightning speed, catching me by the upper arms to steady me. I looked up, and for a second, the hallway disappeared. There was only his cologne and the dark, fathomless depth of his eyes. I felt stripped bare. “Are you okay, Little Bird?” My breath caught. I took a back step away from him. Then another. “Stop calling me that. I'm Mrs. Morvanti now.” He didn't let go. If anything, his fingers tightened around me. A knowing smile curved his mouth. He leaned closer. “So… you do remember me.” “No,” I blurted breathlessly. “I don't remember you.” He tilted his head—slowly— his eyes tracing the line of my throat. “Are you sure? Because your pulse is telling me a different story.” He was right. My heart was thudding against my ribs so hard I was certain he could feel it through the soles of his shoes. I was a 911 operator, trained to be the calm in th