All Chapters of BETROTHED TO THE CRAZY DON: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The West Wing The call ended with a quiet click. Alessandro lowered the phone, but his gaze remained fixed on the rain crawling down the tall windows of his study. The room was silent except for the steady crackle of the fireplace. A sharp knock never came. The door swung open. Captain Lorenzo stepped inside, water glistening on the shoulders of his dark coat. Alessandro didn't turn. "Double the guards around my wife." Lorenzo nodded. "Seal the west wing." A brief pause. "No one enters without my authorization." The hesitation behind him was almost imperceptible. Alessandro finally looked over his shoulder. "What is it?" Lorenzo's jaw tightened. "One of the motion sensors in the west wing activated shortly after midnight." Alessandro's expression didn't change. "Which guard responded?" "No one, Don." A heavy silence settled between them. "No patrol reported seeing anyone." The warmth left Alessandro's gray eyes. His fingers slowly curled

The Ravens Don Vittorio lay motionless beneath crisp white hospital sheets, the steady rhythm of machines filling the room where his commanding voice had once ruled. Clear tubes disappeared beneath the blanket, while the heart monitor traced fragile green lines across its screen with relentless beeps. Marco stood beside the bed, his father's cold hand clasped tightly in his own. "Dad..." The word barely escaped his lips. There was no response. Only the soft hiss of the ventilator. The doctor adjusted the chart before meeting Marco's weary eyes. "The next forty-eight hours are critical." Marco gave a stiff nod, though the words barely registered. His father's strained whisper echoed relentlessly in his mind. "She's safe... because she's with him." Why Alessandro? Why trust the man they had spent years calling an enemy? Unable to bear another second, Marco stepped into the empty corridor. He had barely reached the elevator when his phone buzzed sharply in hi

The Dance of Enemies Silence settled over the balcony. Every pair of eyes remained fixed on the heavy gold signet ring resting in Alessandro's palm. The black onyx caught the moonlight, the De Luca crest gleaming like a silent accusation. No one dared breathe too loudly. Alessandro slowly closed his fingers around the ring. "Every captain," he said, his voice calm enough to send a chill through the night. "Remove your rings." No one questioned the order. One by one, gold bands slid from fingers and dropped into Captain Lorenzo's leather case with soft metallic clicks. Lorenzo counted them once. Then again. A crease formed between his brows. His head lifted. "Captain Ricci..." he murmured. The courtyard fell even quieter. "He hasn't reported for duty." Without waiting for permission, Lorenzo disappeared into the mansion with several guards at his heels. Minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed through the halls. He returned alone. "His room is empty.

Confession Morning broke over Manhattan, but peace never came. Television screens across the city flashed with breaking headlines. "Mrs. De Luca Suffers Sudden Illness at Charity Gala." Reporters called it food poisoning. Social media called it attempted murder. By noon, whispers had reached every powerful family in New York. Inside the De Luca estate, the iron gates slammed shut. Armed guards searched every room. Servants stood silently as their belongings were inspected. Delivery trucks waited outside while bomb-sniffing dogs circled every crate. Phones rang unanswered before Lorenzo ordered every line monitored. No one entered. No one left. From the window of her suite, Valentina watched black SUVs patrol the grounds below. Guards now stood beneath every balcony, rifles slung across their shoulders, eyes sweeping the gardens without pause. She pressed a hand against the cool glass. The mansion hadn't become safer. It had become a fortress. And she cou

Fire 🔥 Just before dawn, Marco was jolted awake by the shrill vibration of his phone on the bedside table. He answered without looking. "Sir!" Captain Enzo's voice cracked through the speaker, drowned by shouting and the roar of flames. "Warehouse Twelve is on fire!" Marco was already pulling on his jacket. He had barely reached the front door when the phone rang again. Another captain. "Warehouse Eight!" A third call followed before the second had ended. "Warehouse Four is burning!" His pulse pounded as he rushed outside. Across the dark New York skyline, pillars of orange fire clawed into the fading night, thick smoke swallowing the dawn. Marco stood frozen for a heartbeat. Someone wasn't attacking the Russo empire. Someone was setting it ablaze. Sirens screamed through the Brooklyn docks as firefighters fought walls of roaring flames. Jets of water vanished into the inferno, swallowed by the relentless heat. Thick black smoke rolled across the waterf