Page 115 of Dark Mafia Bride

“I told you I’ll be going back to my family.” I cut him off, my words firm. “That’s not up for negotiation.”

He holds my gaze for a long beat, eyes dark and unreadable, but I don’t flinch. I won’t. I stare right back, daring him to challenge me, to say anything that might make me second-guess myself.

I wish things were different. I wish we could have the kind of love I’ve always dreamed of. But we’re too broken. We come from different worlds.

Ettore doesn’t argue, though. He simply stands, takes one last look at me and walks out. The door clicks softly behind him, and I let out a long, shaky breath.

I spend the next few minutes in silence with my family. Their presence is a soothing balm through everything. Mamma is quieter now, her eyes red from crying, but her fingers never leave mine. Nonna sits by my side, as though guarding me, and Giulia hovers at the edge of the bed, her gaze flicking nervously from me to the door.

When I feel exhaustion creeping back in, my family insists I rest. I let them go, sinking back into the bed, my body too tired to protest, too worn to fight.

The next morning, I open my eyes to find Ettore entering my room. It feels oddly like yesterday, only this time, his gaze isunwavering, full of an intensity that pins me in place as he sits by my bedside.

He tells me he’s here to go over the results with the doctor, and despite my immediate resistance, he stands his ground, challenging me with a fierceness I haven’t seen in a long time. After a short, quiet debate, I reluctantly let him stay. Silence settles between us as we wait, both bracing for what’s to come.

Minutes later, the doctor walks in, her expression noticeably more serious. My pulse quickens, a cold knot of dread forming in my stomach.

“Mrs. Greco,” she begins, “How are you feeling today?”

“Much better, doctor,” I reply, barely keeping my voice steady. “What did the results say?”

She glances at Ettore, then back at me, her tone gentle yet firm. “I have some news. We did another ultrasound...and we found two heartbeats. It appears you’re expecting twins.”

The air leaves my lungs. I’m frozen, struggling to process what she just said. Ettore’s hand closes over mine, and for once, I don’t pull away. His grip tightens, grounding me as I try to comprehend the reality of twins—two heartbeats.

The word echoes in my mind, reshaping everything in a single, overwhelming moment.

I glance over at Ettore. His face has gone pale, his eyes wide with shock, but there’s something else there too—a flicker of awe, of quiet, unguarded hope. For a brief moment, I want to soak it in, to let myself feel that fragile, tentative joy alongside him.

But deep down, I know the truth hasn’t changed. I’m leaving him.

This miracle doesn’t erase the pain, the history, or the broken pieces of us. So I hold his hand a moment longer, then gently let go, feeling the weight of the decision I’ve already made settle even deeper.

40

ETTORE

Four weeks. Twenty-eight days. Forty thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since Mirabella walked out of my life.

I miss her. Terribly. More than words can express.

Every second without her is torture. I miss the sound of her voice, the warmth of her presence, the way she laughs—so light, so easy.

I miss waking up with her beside me, feeling the soft rise and fall of her breath as she sleeps. I miss falling asleep with her in my arms, her hair tangled around my fingers.

Every moment since she left feels like it’s dragging me further into this endless pit. And today, I decide I’ve had enough. I can’t stand the emptiness anymore.

The afternoon sun is fading as I park in front of the sleek glass tower where she works. Global Hope Initiative. It’s an NGO dedicated to providing educational resources and support to underprivileged helping children in war zones, disaster-stricken areas—places that would break your heart if you let them.

Mirabella’s not just working here to build a resume for her future career in international relations—she’s here because this is the kind of person she is—someone who wants to make the world a better place

When I heard she applied for this internship, I couldn’t let it go. I pulled strings, called in favors, did whatever it took to make sure she got the job. The CEO owed me a big one—he’d taken a donation from one of my foundations—and though I promised myself I wouldn’t meddle in her life again, I couldn’t stop myself.

Mirabella has always been too proud to ask for help. And now, as much as she’ll hate me when she finds out, I can’t stand the thought of her struggling more than she needs to.

I step into the building, the cold air hitting me with a crispness that feels almost too sterile. The scent of fresh paper lingers in the air, mingling with the quiet buzz of activity around me—interns and associates rushing between meetings, phones ringing in the background. My eyes scan the room, and then they lock onto her.

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