All Chapters of The Mafia's Pawn: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The following days were tense. Marco was being held in the underground room, and Russo and Viktor were constantly with him, pushing him for answers. Each night, Russo returned to our room with that same intensity, a quiet storm brewing inside him, and I was there, always waiting, always ready to support him. But the emotional weight of what we were doing and what we had become was something I hadn’t fully processed yet. The nights Russo spent with me were filled with whispered confessions and stolen moments of passion, but by day, the mafia world consumed us. We never talked about what was happening between us in the open, but there was no denying it now. The connection we had was no longer just physical; it was emotional, it was trust. And though Russo never said it outright, I could feel that he needed me, that I had become more than just a pawn in his plan for revenge. One afternoon, as I was sitting in the living room of the safehouse, a knock came at the door. I opened it caut

Cleo's POV As I stepped into the grand hall, the opulence of Ella and Miley’s wedding hit me like a wall of perfume and satin. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but I felt like an outsider, more like a ghost haunting my own past. The guests, dressed in their finest attire, cast glances my way, their expressions a mixture of surprise and confusion. The sleek black dress I wore was not just a fashion choice; it was a declaration. In a sea of white and pastels, I was the dark storm cloud that threatened to rain on their parade. I smoothed the fabric against my thighs, grounding myself in the purpose that had brought me here. With every step, memories of betrayal surged, heavy and unrelenting. I spotted Miley in the distance, whispering to his group of groomsmen, their laughter carrying across the room like some twisted incantation. Once upon a time, that laughter would have shattered me, but not today. “Cleo, are you sure about this?” Russo’s voice broke through my thoughts, his

Cleo's POV I sat in the chair, my hands trembling slightly as I gazed at the mirror, the reflection of Ella’s delicate veil draping over my face. Behind me, Ella lay unconscious, her body hidden behind the curtains, bound and out of sight. The silk of the wedding dress clung to me like a second skin, but it didn’t feel like mine. Every fiber of it belonged to the woman who had taken everything from me. I was wearing her life, her future, her happiness, and soon, she would know how it felt to lose everything. The announcement for the bride's entrance echoed through the hall, and my heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath, rising from the chair, feeling the weight of the moment settle into my bones. This wasn’t just a wedding; it was the culmination of every ounce of pain, betrayal, and loss I’d endured. As I stepped into the hallway, Aunt Lydia appeared, her face glowing with pride, completely unaware of the deception unfolding before her. She looped her arm through mine wi

Miley's POV The ceremony was perfect. Well, almost. The laughter of the guests, the soft buzz of excitement, and the playful comments as I kissed what I thought was Ella on the lips, all of it felt right, like the world was finally aligning in my favor. The veil, she didn’t want me to lift it at first. She was playful, almost teasing me as if this was some kind of game. I had to admit, it was cute. I liked that side of her, the side that didn’t take everything too seriously. Ella had always been a little too uptight about appearances, about being perfect in front of people. But today, she was light, fun, and carefree. That kiss though... something about it had been off. There was resistance at first, but then, she pulled me closer, kissing me like we were back in the early days. And for a second, I almost believed she still felt the same way about me as I did about her. The crowd was laughing and cheering us on, telling us to take it easy. It felt good, it felt right, even if a

Cleo's POV The leather seat in Russo's car was cool against my back, a stark contrast to the fiery adrenaline that still surged through my veins. I leaned back, trying to gather my thoughts, but my mind was still replaying the scene in that hotel room with Miley. The look on his face, his shock, his fear was something I’d savor for a long time. Russo glanced over at me from the driver’s seat, his sharp eyes assessing me before a smirk curved his lips. “You know, you looked stunning in that wedding gown,” he teased, the hint of laughter in his voice. I scoffed, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. “If you’re that invested in how I looked, you could’ve at least given me a proper wedding,” I shot back, raising an eyebrow at him. “Even if our marriage is just on paper.” Russo chuckled, his deep laugh filling the car. “So be it,” he said, his voice taking on a playful edge. “Let’s have that grand wedding, Cleo. White doves, a choir, the works.