All Chapters of Ruined By Mafia: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

I wasn’t sure how long we had been standing like this—me with the gun, Marco frozen in place, watching me, and Dante...Dante, who looked as if this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all week.He hadn’t moved.Hadn’t flinched.Hadn’t so much as blinked at the fact that I had a loaded gun pointed inches from his second-in-command’s chest.Then, he moved.Not quickly.Not hesitantly.Just with the same slow, calculated ease he did everything else.And before I could process it, before I could even react, he stepped between us.I barely had time to suck in a sharp breath before he was right there, his frame blocking Marco entirely, his presence so overwhelming, so suffocatingly close that my body went rigid.And then—he did something that made my blood freeze.He grabbed the front of the gun.And pressed it directly against his own chest.A sick, twisted smile pulled at his lips, dark amusement gleaming in his eyes as he tilted his head slightly, as if daring me.The air around u

The door clicked shut behind him.A sound so soft, so insignificant—yet it sent a shiver down my spine.The air in the room shifted, thickening like a suffocating fog, wrapping around me, pressing into my skin. I had been fighting for control since the moment I woke up, clawing at the edges of my sanity, desperate for answers.But the second Dante stepped inside—I lost every ounce of control I thought I had.He didn’t speak at first.Didn’t rush to fill the silence.He simply leaned back against the door, arms crossed lazily over his chest, his posture entirely at ease—as if he belonged here.As if I were the intruder.A slow, deliberate smirk curved his lips, his dark eyes settling on me with amusement, intrigue.He was enjoying this.Of course he was.My hands curled into fists at my sides, my entire body humming with anger, frustration—rage.I had enough.“Tell me what you know about my parents,” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.Dante tilted his head slightly, as if con

The door closed behind Dante with a quiet click, sealing me inside a room that suddenly felt too small. The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing down on my chest like an invisible weight, making it harder to breathe.I stood frozen, my mind refusing to fully process what I had just heard.Marco.My uncle.The one who caused the accident.The one who left me at the orphanage.My breath hitched, a sharp, broken sound escaping my lips.No.No, that wasn't possible.Dante was lying. He had to be lying.But deep inside, beneath the anger and confusion, a cold, gnawing doubt twisted its way through me.Dante was cruel. A manipulator. A sadist. But he wasn't reckless with his words. He didn't throw out lies for the sake of it.No, when Dante spoke, every word was calculated. Precise. Designed to cut as deep as possible.And that was what scared me the most.I couldn't sit here, drowning in my own thoughts, letting his voice wrap around my mind like a noose.I needed answers. Now.

The hallway felt endless.Dimly lit sconces cast long, flickering shadows against the walls, stretching like clawed hands reaching for me. The soft hum of distant conversation and the faint clinking of glasses from somewhere in the mansion barely registered over the sound of my own pulse pounding in my ears.I walked between Marco and the guard, my legs stiff, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.Dante needed to see us both.Marco had warned me—just do as he says if you want to stay alive.That wasn’t just a warning.It was a promise that whatever waited for us in Dante’s study wasn’t going to be good.I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sitting heavy on my chest.My mind was racing.Marco hadn’t even given me a chance to argue, to demand more answers before the guard showed up. Was that intentional?I forced myself to glance at him.His face was a mask. Cold. Unreadable. Distant.It was the same look he had worn all the time.The same look he had given me when I accused him

The words landed like a slap. I felt them in my bones, in the sharp, searing pain in my chest. My parents hadn't just worked for criminals—they had plotted with them, schemed with them, used a child as currency in their power plays.A child. Dante would have been just a boy when my parents were working for his father. A boy they were willing to sacrifice for their own ends.I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The revelation stole my voice, left me gasping silently in its wake. My mother's face flashed in my mind—the gentle smile I barely remembered, the soft hands I had idealized for twenty-five years. Had those same hands drafted plans to kidnap a child? Had that smile hidden such calculated cruelty?Betrayal. Blackmail. They had promised to deliver Dante like some bargaining chip. And for the first time since this conversation started, I saw it. Why Dante had so much hatred in his voice when he spoke about them. Why he had looked at me, the wariness, the suspicion, the barely c