Page 58 of Dark Mafia Bride

We exchange quick parting words and firm handshakes before I slip through the garden and head toward the main house.

The warm air envelops me the moment I step through the large doors, a welcome contrast to the slight chill outside. I scan the empty lobby, searching for any signs of activity.

Luca didn’t need to elaborate. If he interrupted my conversation, it must be serious, and it likely concerns Mirabella.

“Where’s my wife?” I ask a maid passing by.

Her breath hitches as she looks up at me, wide-eyed.

“Sh-she’s upstairs, sir,” she replies in a timid voice.

I stride toward the staircase, taking them two at a time. As I near the next hallway, I hear it—the unmistakable bite of Zia Camila’s voice.

“You know, dear, in this family—I mean anywhere really, a wife usually sleeps with her husband.” Her words are laced with sarcasm and venom, and my hands clench into fists.

Zia Camila continues her tirade just as I reach the top of the stairs. From my vantage point, I see how they’ve cornered Mirabella, all three of my aunts looming over her.

I’d given them one instruction—just one—don’t disrespect my wife the moment she moves in here. But it seems my aunt is incapable of following orders.

“I don’t know the kind of family you came from, seeing as your father isn’t in the picture,” Zia Camilla continues, “but I’ll tell you how it’s done here...”

I’m about to charge in and issue a final warning when Mirabella speaks up.

“You won’t tell me how it’s done here.”

I freeze, and Zia Camila and the others exchange shocked looks.

“Excuse me?” Aunt Francesca is the one who speaks this time around.

Mirabella crosses her arms defiantly and tilts her head. “I wasn’t aware my sleeping arrangements with my husband required your approval.”

A flicker of surprise flashes across my aunt’s face, but she quickly recovers. “Forgive me for trying to confirm, dear,” she says, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I just thought it was strange that a bride wouldn’t want to be by her husband’s side on her wedding night.”

Mirabella’s gaze sharpens, her voice unwavering. “You thought it was strange? Or have you just been searching for a reason to put me in my place?”

Zia Camila’s lips tighten into a thin smile, clearly unaccustomed to being challenged, especially by someone she considers beneath her.

“You’re quite bold, aren’t you? Perhaps you think that marrying into this family makes you a Greco,” Zia Camila snaps.

“Actually, I think it does,” Mirabella fires back. “I’m not sure where you’re from but when a lady marries a man, that usually means she gets his surname. I am a Greco. I am the wife of the man who runs this household. “

I stifle a chuckle as shocked gasps and murmurs ripple through the room. A surge of pride courses through me. I’d been worried about how she would handle my aunts, but I’d nearly forgotten the fierce spirit Mirabella possesses.

My fearless Kitten.

A voice suddenly cuts in—Aunt Marta, her tone dripping with disdain.

“We may not be able to change the fact that you’re married to our nephew, but the reality is that you are not fit to run this household. To even suggest otherwise is both disrespectful and insulting,”

“Why?” Mirabella shoots back, turning to face her with fire in her eyes. “Because I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon shoved up my ass?”

Shocked gasps ripple through the air again, and I struggle to suppress a laugh.

“I’m here because Ettore chose me,” Mirabella continues, her tone bold. “Just as I assume your husbands chose you. And while I won’t comment on the fact that you all should have your own families to run, it seems you’ve chosen to spend your time here trying to bully your nephew’s new wife,” she says, hersmile sugary sweet. “I won’t delve into the reasons why I think the three of you are here instead of in your own husbands’ beds or homes. After all, as you kindly pointed out, I’m just a new member of the family, still learning the ropes.”

As I expect, Zia Camila takes a step closer to Mirabella, her face red with anger as it always is whenever someone mentions anything about her marriage.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, little girl. You wanted to use that against me, but you’ve lost. My husband is dead, and it was very insensitive of you to bring him up! How will your husband react when I tell him you insulted my late husband?”

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