All Chapters of Mafia's Lost Princess: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Isabella A phone call woke me up. I groaned as I fumbled out of my bed, over Damon's warm body, and then to my dresser table. "Hello?" I said, groggy, half-asleep, and not bothering to check who it was. "It's me," a familiar voice said. "Frederick?" "Though lovely to hear from you this early morning. I thought I told you not to make a habit of waking me up." "It's urgent. Sorry, but this is the only time I can call. Cassandra goes on her morning workout by this time. It's the only time I had to call. Look, she's crazy. She's actually batshit crazy, and I know that it's wrong of me to do this, but if I started, I might as well just finish it. So, what do you want to finish?" He was silent for a moment, and then I heard movement. "If you want to find the Ravella, I need assurance of my safety when Cassandra goes down. I need you to keep me safe. I need the Mafia King... He's the only one that can keep me safe from her. I know he has an army, and I know his men are strong and well-

Isabella "You want the extra security. Why? Do you want to betray me or the mafia King? If you do, you're not going to live to see another day." "I know that," he said with his hands up. "But trust me, I haven't thought of betraying anyone. Like I said, Cassandra is mad. Ever since that day... when you came, she's been screaming, shouting at everyone and everything, sometimes shouting at herself when she's alone. I'm scared for my life. I'm scared for a lot of things, but the worst... the worst of everything is that she's begun to get violent. She started smashing glasses at the staff and the maids, to the point where she even cut a girl's jugular. I've never seen so much blood in my life. Of course, the girl is dead, but I think that's just the beginning. She's scared that somehow, at the next meeting, she's not going to be able to hold her seat. She's also scared that you'll confront her again and demand she vacate the manor. So you're here to make sure that I don't meet her ag

Damon "Clear the road!" I yelled at Miguel, who promptly pushed two cars aside as if they were toys. Once the dust settled, I opened the van door and climbed in. Isabella looked at me with bright eyes and a small smile. "It's the mask, isn't it?" she asked, touching its cold surface, quieting the whispers of rage and destruction. Her hand moved to untie the mask before pulling it off my face. I knew my eyes were probably blazing with golden fire, but she didn't seem to mind. "Where are we going?" she asked as I took a seat beside her and pulled her onto my lap. Breathing in her scent, I felt the rage inside me begin to dissipate. "We're going to the ship," I said in a gravelly voice. "Are we going to see Joseph? I've missed his bread." "I don't think he'll have bread on the ship," I responded, growing frustrated not with her question but because my body didn't want to move anymore. I tapped Ted beside me, signaling him to help. "The ship is like a mobile base of operations, a sa

Damon Bodies hung upside down, bearing a striking resemblance to a butchery. Beside each body was a tag and a picture. From where I stood, I could see each picture perfectly. Each one showed Cassandra standing over the bodies with a crazed smile. Underneath each picture was an inscription: "It was a mistake," written in a shaky handwriting. "What the fuck is this?" Miguel finally managed to ask. "An overindulgence of a madwoman," Alessandro answered as he entered the room. There were a total of seven bodies, signaling seven murders. "Take the pictures. When you're done, we burn it to the ground," I said as I exited the room. Barely an hour later, I stood outside the building with Stefano beside me. He conjured a ball of fire in his hand, grinning as it grew the size of his head. He leaned back suddenly and threw the ball like a baseball pitch, with perfect form. The fireball hit the door hanging off its hinges and went straight into the building, engulfing it in flames and sendin

Isabella I stood in front of the large double doors of the manor. The wood was so familiar, as was the entire environment. It was so nostalgic standing there one more time. I reached out toward the door handle and slowly pulled it down, remembering the feel of the last time I did it. I pushed the door open and stepped into the marble foyer. It was grand, pristine, and beautiful, just as I remembered. Above a small fountain stood a large chandelier made with gold and diamond crystals. I remembered the first time it was brought inside. Father was standing by the stairs, watching the men wield it in different parts. They mounted their ladders and began to assemble it slowly. Eventually, after three days, they finished putting together the chandelier. Frederick came out of the door to the left, which I remembered led to the dining and kitchen areas, as well as the walkway that led to the West Wing. "I remember when this was brought," I pointed at the fountain. "I must have been five.