Page 68 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

“Don Carlos is on to me,” I said, cutting straight to the point. “He’s having me investigated. He doesn’t believe a word I’ve said again.”

“Of course, he doesn’t. He’s a paranoid bastard,” Enzo muttered. “You knew this was a risk, Mirella.”

“I know,” I answered, steadying my voice. “But that’s not all. He’s digging for more—who I am, where I’ve been. If he finds out about Alex…”

Enzo swore under his breath. “That’s not going to happen. I told you that I’ve got leads, and I’m going to check them out tonight. I think I’m close.”

“Good,” I said, trying to sound hopeful even as the tension knotted in my chest. “Because tonight’s the engagement party. I’ll use it as a chance to check Don Carlos’ study. If there’s anything about my father—where he might be—I’ll find it there.”

“Mirella, that’s dangerous.”

“It’s my only shot,” I countered. “I won’t waste it.”

Enzo paused, his silence heavy. “Be careful, Raven. Don’t do anything too dangerous.”

“I won’t,” I assured him. “You just focus on your lead.”

Ending the call, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I could feel the pressure of the night pressing down on me, but I didn’t have the luxury of second-guessing myself. This was the only way forward.

I walked down the hall to Alex’s room, pausing when I saw him sitting on the carpet, his head resting in Dahlia’s lap. She was running her fingers gently through his hair.

“Mama!” Alex called, spotting me. He scrambled to his feet, running over and throwing his little arms around me.

I kissed the top of his head, inhaling the warm, sweet scent of him. “My love.”

Dahlia smiled up at me, her eyes soft and understanding.

“Watch over him tonight,” I said, brushing a strand of Alex’s hair from his face. “Please.”

Dahlia nodded, her expression turning serious. “Always.”

I looked at my son one last time, memorizing every bit of his perfect face, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Alex. Be good for Dahlia.”

“I will,” he mumbled sleepily.

As I straightened, I met Dahlia’s gaze again. “Keep him safe,” I whispered.

“I will,” she repeated, her voice steady.

And with that, I turned away, leaving a piece of my heart behind.

*****

The ballroom was dripping in opulence—golden chandeliers, crimson curtains, marble floors polished to a mirror shine. The kind of place that felt more like a gilded cage than a celebration. My reflection danced across the floor as I was paraded around on Don Carlos’ arm like a prize he’d just won. He smiled thatcold, practiced smile, whispering pleasantries to men in suits and women dripping in jewels, his grip on my waist just tight enough to remind me that I wasn’t here by choice.

“Isn’t she stunning?” Don Carlos boomed, his voice laced with smugness as he introduced me to yet another associate. “My fiancée, Mirella.”

My smile was as fake as the diamond necklaces around his guests’ necks. My skin burned under their gazes, their eyes raking over me like vultures. I didn’t belong here, and yet I’d forced myself into this den of wolves, my heart thundering with every passing second. I scanned the room, pretending to admire the decor. I was looking for Sergio, half-hoping, half-fearing he’d show up.

But he wasn’t here.

Still, there was this feeling I couldn’t shake. It pulled me back to the night I’d met the stranger, not knowing it was Sergio in disguise. The memory flashed in my mind—his voice, his eyes, the way he’d drawn me in like a moth to a flame. And now, as Sergio, nothing had changed. I had always gravitated towards him. Always loved him, even when I didn’t know it was him.

“Mirella, are you alright?” Don Carlos’ voice jolted me back to the present.

“I—” I fumbled, pretending to fluster as I looked down at the glass of wine in my hand. Without thinking twice, I stumbled forward just enough for the drink to spill down my dress. “Oh no! I’m so clumsy.”

Don Carlos frowned, annoyed but masking it well. “Go clean yourself up.”

---