Page 24 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

Leo tugs on my hand,his lion tucked under his arm, his sleepy eyes blinking as he trudges off toward the library. "Go on, sweetheart," I say softly, smoothing his hair. "I'll be there soon." My voice doesn't waver, though my heart feels tight in my chest.

As soon as he disappears down the hall, I straighten, crossing my arms like armor. Alessandro is waiting, standing there like a storm ready to strike. The tension between us is suffocating.

"What now, Alessandro?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended, but I'm too exhausted to soften it.

His eyes narrow. "You left the estate without security," he says, the accusation heavy in the air.

Heat rises to my face. "Leo needed air. We needed air. I won't let him live as a prisoner in this house."

"It's not about living as prisoners," he snaps, his voice cutting through the space between us. "It's about staying alive."

My anger flares, hot and immediate. "We were careful," I bite back. "No one followed us."

"You don't know that!" His voice booms, and for a moment, I flinch. "Marco's men were watching. They could have—" He stops short, his jaw locking, his fists clenched as though the thought is unbearable to finish.

I take a step toward him, my hands fisted at my sides. "Don't you dare put this on me, Alessandro. I'm trying to give our son a semblance of normalcy. Do you think this is easy for him? For me?"

"It's not supposed to be easy," he fires back. "It's supposed to be safe."

The tension crackles between us, a thin wire stretched to its limit. My voice drops, quieter now, as the weight of his words settles over me. "I didn't know," I say, my throat tightening. "I didn't know Marco would go this far."

His voice softens just enough to catch me off guard. "He's already gone that far, Serafina. And he'll go further. That's why you need to trust me."

Trust him. The man who walked out of my life and left me to fend for myself and my son. I laugh, bitter and sharp, the sound scraping against my raw nerves. "Trust you? You, Alessandro? After everything?"

He takes a step closer, and for a moment, the fight bleeds out of his eyes. "I'm asking you to let me protect you," he says, quieter now. "To protect Leo."

I glance away, the weight of his words pressing down on me. I want to argue, to fight back, but I'm tired. So tired. "Fine," I mutter, my voice hollow. "But this isn't forever. I won't raise Leo in a gilded cage."

He doesn't respond at first, but I see it in the way his shoulders tighten. He doesn't understand. This isn't about keeping us locked away—it's about control.

As I turn to leave, his hand catches mine. The unexpected touch sends a shiver down my spine. I look back at him, his expression dark and unreadable.

"Don't make me regret trusting you," he says instead, his voice low and edged with warning. "Whatever happens, Leo needs to stay safe. That's all that matters."

The weight of his words sinks in, but I can't ignore the subtle shift in his tone. He's not thanking me—he's demanding my loyalty to the one thing we both care about.

I meet his gaze, searching for something—anything—but the wall around him is as impenetrable as ever. My throat tightens, but I pull my hand away, turning my back on him. "Leo's safety has always been my priority," I say, my voice clipped. "Even when you weren't around to make it yours."

I don't look back as I leave the room, but I can feel the storm I left brewing behind me.

ALESSANDRO

Dark mahogany shelves lined with untouched books crowd my father's office. The scent of old leather, cigar smoke, and expensive scotch hangs in the room. My father, Matteo D'Angelo, sits behind his massive desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin. His piercing eyes settle on me with a disappointment that feels worse than any bullet I've dodged.

"You're slipping, Alessandro," he says, voice cold and clipped. "Marco's making moves against us, and you're too distracted to stop him."

I stand firm, jaw tight. "I have it under control."

His chuckle is humorless. "Control? A bomb threat was found on her car, and now there are whispers of a bastard child. A weakness."

My fists clench, the veins along my arms bulging. "Leo is not a weakness. Or a bastard, he is mine." My voice comes out like a growl, my restraint razor thin.

His expression sharpens. "He will be if you don't solidify your position. Which is why you'll marry Isabella Castellano."

The words are like a gunshot, hitting me right in the chest. I freeze, a ripple of disbelief flashing through me before it morphs into white-hot fury.

I narrow my eyes. "You think a marriage to a woman I don't even know will stop Marco?" The rage in my voice is cold, and measured, but lethal.

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