Page 126 of Dark Mafia Bride

“Two weeks,” I confirm. “And don’t think about showing up uninvited. If I see you at the hospital, I’ll have Logan escort you out.”

He groans, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re killing me, Mirabella.”

“Good. Maybe that’ll stop you from shooting at people next time.”

“Whatever you want, Kitten.” I ignore how his solemn words make my heart flutter, focusing instead on the real issue at hand—the person who’d paid Milo to set me up.

But as the words form in my mind, I realize something. I don’t need to search for the person anymore. I already know exactly who it is.

44

ETTORE

I’ve always prided myself on my self-control, but right now, every muscle in my body is wound tight, threatening to snap at any moment.

The living room of the Greco estate feels suffocating with thick, tangible tension today. Despite the sunlight streaming in through the grand windows and glinting off the polished marble floors, the air is cold, heavy, and oppressive.

I stand rigidly in the center of the room, my hands entwined with Mirabella’s. She’s trembling, her fingers gripping mine so tightly, as if afraid I might disappear. I can feel her pulse racing beneath her skin, a frantic rhythm that mirrors the fury burning in my veins.

Across from us, Zia Camila sits in one of the plush armchairs, her legs crossed with practiced grace, her fingers drumming absentmindedly against her knee. As always, her face is masked with a calm, rehearsed smile, but her eyes betray her—flickering with fear. She knows she’s been backed into a corner, yet she’s still pretending to be oblivious, and that pretense is that is slowly driving me mad.

“I asked you a question,” Mirabella says, her voice shaking. “Why did you do it? Why did you pay someone to get close to me so you could set me up?”

Camila’s icy gaze sweeps over her, a chilling calmness that contrasts sharply with the seething storm in Mirabella’s eyes. “And I’ve already answered,” she responds coolly. “Why do you keep asking? If you believe your husband’s little confession so much, perhaps you’ve mistaken me for the person to whom he’s referring. Go find them. Leave me out of this.”

A wave of seething anger surges through me.

“Don’t insult my wife, Camila,” I spit, watching as her eyes widen slightly at the sheer disrespect of calling her by her guest name. “And don’t insult my intelligence. We already know exactly what you did.”

Her lip curls in a mocking smirk. “Do you?” Camila arches an eyebrow, her voice silky yet harsh. “Or is your wife’s...condition clouding your judgment? Her pregnancy, perhaps?”

Before I can respond, she turns to Mirabella. “I think you need to rest, darling. You’ve been through quite a lot lately. The trauma these few weeks is certainly not good for the babies,” she says with sickly sweet condescension, her voice dripping with feigned concern.

“Stop lying,” Mirabella demands, her voice cracking slightly. “Just...stop. You’re the only one who had the motive to do this. You’ve hated me since the moment you laid eyes on me. You’re the only one who would go to such lengths to make sure I leave your precious mansion.”

“Fine,” Zia Camila snaps, her sugary smile evaporating as a cold, tight expression replaces it. “Believe what you want. I only did what I had to do to protect this family...”

“Protect?” I growl, my voice echoing throughout the room. “Protect this family from what? Fromher? From my wife? The mother of my children?”

Camila’s cool demeanor falters, if only slightly. “I didn’t know she was pregnant when I started this,” she stammers, the first crack in her mask. She shifts uncomfortably, uncrossing and recrossing her legs in a display of nervousness that contrasts with her earlier poise. “But let’s be clear, we weren’t surethe babywas even yours, Ettore,” she adds, her tone darkening. “I couldn’t risk history repeating itself. I had to protect my family. I did what I had to do.”

I take a deep, controlling breath, the words cutting deeper than she intended. “I’ve forgiven your past transgressions, all because of Mirabella. But this?” I hiss, taking a step closer, my fists clenched. “This is crossing the line.”

Panic creeps into her voice as she sits up straighter. “This is exactly what I was trying to prevent. Don’t you see it? She’s already turning you against me! She’s trying to tear our family apart.”

“The only person responsible for that,” I growl, my words hardening into ice, “is you.”

Her eyes flash with a toxic blend of malice and fear, and her lips twist into a bitter, defiant line. “She’s a threat,” she spits. “You’re too blinded by your emotions to see it. But I see it. I always have. That’s why I did what I did. It’s my responsibility to make you see the truth. I’m not sorry for pushing a few buttons to make you open your eyes.”

“Push a few buttons?!” I roar, taking a step toward her, but Mirabella’s delicate grip tightens around my hand, holding me back.

Zia Camila’s eyes dart to the movement. “She clearly controls you. This is what I was trying to prevent.”

“As opposed to you controlling him?” Mirabella’s voice rises. “You see me as a threat because Iama threat—to your selfishness, your wickedness, and your cruelty!”

I hear footsteps approaching just then, and Aunt Francesca and Aunt Marta slip in, drawn by the commotion, their faces pale with shock. At the unfolding scene before them, they linger by the entrance with wide and shocked gazes, not daring to interrupt.

“You don’t belong here,” Zia Camila hisses. “You were never meant to be a part of this family. A threat? Don’t flatter yourself. I’m trying to protect what’s rightfully mine. What’s ours.” Her voice tightens, and her eyes glint with cold satisfaction. “Ettore was too blind to see it, but I found someone who wasn’t.”

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