All Chapters of The Mafia King's Trophy: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

MatteoI push open the heavy oak door to my father’s office, a rare smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. It feels strange on my face, unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. The sunlight filters through the large windows, illuminating the dark wood of the room and the collection of books lining the shelves.My father looks up from his desk, his sharp green eyes locking onto mine. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, and a smirk spreads across his face.“Well,” he drawls, his voice tinged with amusement. “That’s a look I haven’t seen in a while. What’s put you in such a good mood, son?”I blink, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”He chuckles, the sound low and knowing. “You’ve got that look. The same one I used to have when your mother managed to get under my skin.”“Dad,” I groan, dragging a hand down my face.His smirk widens, and he gestures to the chair across from him. “Come on, Matteo. Don’t leave me in suspense.”I step inside, closing the door behin

NadyaThe room is warm, but I still feel the cold right to my bones. It’s the kind of cold that settles deep in your chest, the kind that doesn’t leave, no matter how many blankets you pile on. I pull the thick quilt tighter around my shoulders and stare at the door, waiting. Always waiting. It’s been days since I was brought here. Days of silence, of healing, of waiting for the other shoe to drop. The man—Markus, they called him—hasn’t come to see me since that night.Not that I want him to.The others, the ones I saw briefly in the chaos, were rough and violent. Markus was no different. He didn’t hurt me, but there was something about him that made my skin crawl and my mind race. The cold gleam in his eyes, the casual way he spoke about violence—it reminded me too much of where I came from.I rub at my wrist absentmindedly, the faint marks from bindings long gone but the memories of them vivid. The sweater’s sleeves are soft, pulling over my hands like a shield. I hate the quiet. I

NadyaThe hallway is deadly quiet as I slip out of my room, the heavy door clicking shut behind me. My pulse thrums in my ears, and my breath comes in shallow, careful exhales. Every creak of the floor feels deafening, every shadow stretching too far.I don’t know the layout of this house—mansion, really—but I know it’s big. Too big. Too many doors, too many chances to get caught. But I have to try. I’ve been here long enough to know the people who brought me aren’t like the ones before, but that doesn’t mean I trust them. Trust is dangerous, and I can’t afford it. Not now.The faintest sliver of moonlight spills through the tall windows, illuminating the corridor ahead. I keep to the walls, my bare feet silent against the cold marble floors. Every muscle in my body is tight, ready to bolt if I hear so much as a whisper of movement.Just get outside. Find a way past the guards. And then—what?My chest tightens at the thought. I don’t have a real plan. My only goal is to get back to M

NadyaI can’t sit still. My body feels like it’s buzzing.Breakfast was quiet, Markus watching me like a hawk, his sharp green eyes assessing every move I made. He didn’t say much, but I could feel the weight of his thoughts, the questions I know he wants to ask.Now, alone in my room, the walls feel like they’re closing in. My pacing quickens, my bare feet padding softly against the floor.The posters. The money.My father is looking for me. Not out of love or concern—that’s not his way. No, this is about power and control. I know the way he operates, the way he turns everything into a transaction. People are assets, pawns in his endless games. And me? I was always the crown jewel, the perfect little doll to parade around when it suited him. The air feels heavy as I stop in front of the window, staring out at the sprawling garden below. The Dragonetti estate is beautiful, in a way that feels almost suffocating. It’s a stark contrast to the cold, brutal efficiency of my father’s com

MarkusI lean against the window frame, my arms crossed, watching the garden below. Lukas is standing there, talking to Nadya, and my stomach clenches in a way I don’t like. At all.She’s got her arms crossed too, her body language guarded, but there’s something about the way Lukas talks to her that gets under my skin. He’s being his usual cocky self, throwing out that stupid grin of his that always seems to charm people, and it’s making my jaw ache from how hard I’m clenching it.I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even be watching them. But I can’t look away.Nadya lets out a laugh—soft, quiet, but it’s there—and something in my chest tightens. Lukas leans back against the fountain, casual as always, like he’s got all the time in the world, and she’s smiling now. It’s not a big smile, but it’s enough to make my fists curl.I force myself to step back from the window, dragging a hand through my hair. What the fuck is wrong with me? Lukas talks to people all the time. Hell, he flirts with t