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

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 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.

I felt something hot, suffocating, and unbearable rise in my throat.I thought of all the nights I had laid awake as a child, staring at the ceiling of my small, empty room, wondering why my parents had left me.Wondering why no one ever came back for me.And the answer had been standing in front of me this whole time.My stomach twisted violently.Marco ran a tired hand down his face, his breathing uneven. “Elena, I didn’t—”“What did they do to deserve this?” I cut him off, my voice sharp, breaking.Marco’s lips parted, but nothing came out.I stepped even closer, my pulse pounding.“To die at the hands of their own brother?”Marco’s expression darkened.His shoulders stiffened, his gaze flickering for just a second—a flicker of hesitation, of warning.Then, in a voice that was quieter, colder, heavier, he said—“Your parents weren’t what you think they were, Elena.”The words sent a sharp chill down my spine.I took a step back, my stomach twisting.“What?”Marco exhaled slowly, sh

The last day and night had been eerily quiet. Aiden didn’t show up, didn’t whisper threats in the dark, didn’t do anything at all. It was unsettling at first—his absence gnawed at me, leaving me on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But as the hours stretched into the next day, that edge began to dull, replaced by a cautious, fragile hope.Maybe—just maybe—he’d lost interest. Maybe I was safe.That small, desperate thought took root, and by the time the morning light began to filter through my window, it had grown into something I almost dared to believe. I got out of bed feeling lighter, almost normal, like I could actually start to piece my life back together. Maybe I could go back to my daily routine, go back to being just another girl in the orphanage. I prayed silently that this peace would last, that the nightmare was finally over.For the first time in what felt like ages, I smiled as I got dressed, the weight of fear lifting just a little. I caught a glimpse of myself i