Betrayed, Then Claimed by the Mafia King (18+)

a R

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lf. The fireplace is nothing more than a flickering memory of warmth and the dim light barely touches the edges of th

, clinical black and white. It's only a piece of paper, but the truth it carries slices th

?" I laugh bitterly, the sound h

t I need." He growls, his voice low and detached, like he's a

d them back. "We can adopt a child. Come on, Vincent, you know you don't have to leave me just because I'm in

ts it down. "Adoption isn't an option; a Ricci needs a blood heir." He turns abruptly, his movemen

a trembling hand. "I don't want you marrying another woman." My finger

on't be selfish, Rose. You can't give me what I need. Maria is beautiful, experien

nt to be with you." My voice trembles with desperation, spilling out, raw an

snapping back into place. "You don't understand. Being a mafia king isn't just about power and money. It's about family, legacy. Without a

afe anymore, not when he's already slipping away. "Just don't marry Maria." My voice cracks,

l give me the damn heir, huh?" His words are sharp, final, like a blade to the chest. "You're infertile, Rose. You can't have my baby.

The words spill out before I can stop them, my voice trembling a

nt." His voice is sharp, cutting through the air between us. He leans down, his face inches from mine, and for the first time in a long while, I see it,

my chest expanding, suffocating me. I look up at him, my eyes c

The words come out rough, as if they're tearing him open. He pulls away from me, his back to me now, his voice distant but thick with something like regret. "I need

e cracks, raw, vulnerable. I call out after him, my

His voice drops lower, and I hear the finality in his tone. "The wedding is at noon tomorrow." The door creaks open

ulfing me, suffocating me. Then, my fury ri

ia if you marry her!" The words bu

and gripping my throat, not squeezing, but holding me, his fingers digging into my skin. "What did you just say?" He demands. "Say it again... I dare you." His

n't divorce me." The words come out cold, detac

, a low, mocking sound that makes my blood boil. He releases my throat, but his fingers leave a burn. "God, I love you so