Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 21

It’s been two weeks since I officially became a Greco, and it’s become painfully clear that my husband’s family can’t stand me. They make a point of reminding me I don’t belong here through forced, tight-lipped smiles whenever Ettore is around, and the subtle—or not-so-subtle—remarks they drop like it’s their personal mission. No matter what I do, they’re determined not to accept me.

The only exception is Ettore’s younger brother Vittorio. He’s warm and genuinely friendly, always eager to chat when he returns from work. Sometimes, I wonder how someone so upbeat and open could come from the same family as Ettore. Now I understand why Ettore said Vittorio is the only family member he trusts.

The staff here are kind, too, though part of me thinks it’s because they don’t have much choice—they’d probably risk their jobs if they weren’t polite. But even with Ettore’s strict aunts around, they seem genuinely fond of me, especially when it’s just us in the house. I can feel them relax, though they snap back to attention when any of the family appears.

As for Ettore’s cousins, they couldn’t care less. Bianca is either at a friend’s place or holed up in her room making videos for her followers or binge-watching shows. Leonardo and Antonio have gone back to college and only visit on weekends, which is a relief.

In the beginning, it was uncomfortable being left with the people who clearly despise me every time Ettore and Vittorio went to work. But now, I just…don’t care. I’ve got my almost-daily visits to my own family and the excitement of preparing for college to keep me busy. Those keep me from dwelling on the mansion’s empty halls or the weird distance that’s developed between Ettore and me since we…well, since that night.

Today, Alessia and Giovanni are coming over. I’ve barely opened the door before Alessia practically tackles me with a hug, squeezing me so tightly I nearly lose my breath.

“All right, spill,” she demands, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with me, her face a mixture of confusion and excitement. “I get this unexpected invite to the wedding of the year—and the bride is my best friend, who I didn’t even know was dating anyone! Mira, what’s going on?”

I laugh, pulling away to catch my breath. “Nice to see you too, Alessia. Hey, Gio.”

Giovanni gives me a small smile and an awkward wave as he steps inside. “Hey, Mira. You look…uh, stressed.”

“That’s because she’s hiding something,” Alessia accuses, hands on her hips. “You owe me an explanation. Who is Ettore Greco, and how the hell did you end up engaged to him? Don’t tell me this was one of your whirlwind decisions!”

I wince. “It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated?” Alessia throws her hands up in exasperation. “Mira, the last time we talked, we were just making plans to hang out because we barely see each other anymore. Then, a few days later I’m RSVPing to your wedding? I mean, I’m happy for you, but I didn’t even know you liked someone enough to marry them!”

“Ettore was thoughtful enough to send out invitations to you guys,” I mutter, trying to deflect. “God knows how he even knows who my friends are.”

Alessia narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh. That doesn’t answer the question, Mira. Are you in trouble? Did he pressure you into this?”

“No! No, it’s not like that.” My voice is too quick, and Alessia’s brows shoot up in suspicion.

Giovanni clears his throat, stepping in. “Okay, maybe we should give Mira a chance to breathe. She doesn’t need an interrogation five seconds after we walk in.”

“Thank you,” I say with a sigh, shooting him a grateful look.

“Fine,” Alessia huffs, flopping onto my couch. “But you’re not getting away that easily. I want details, Mira. How did you meet him? What made you say yes? And why do I feel like there’s more going on here than you’re telling me?”

I glance between them, my mind racing for something to say that won’t dig me into a deeper hole. Alessia crosses her arms, her skepticism written all over her face. Giovanni gives me a small nod, though his worry is just as apparent.

They step into the foyer, and I lead them down the hall toward the conservatory. The glass walls of the room bathe everything in sunlight, casting a warm, golden glow over the lush plants and cozy lounge chairs. They both look around, wide-eyed, and I motion for them to sit.

“This place is…wow,” Alessia says, blinking in amazement. “Mira, this feels like a scene from a movie. Tell us everything.”

Alessia and Gio missed my wedding because they were out of town visiting her sick grandmother. They only found out about the wedding when they got the invitation.

“Well,” I say lightly, trying to keep things casual. “Obviously, I’m married now. That’s what happened.”

Alessia stares at me, unconvinced. “Just like that? Mira, I’m your best friend, and I didn’t even know this guy existed. Then I get a wedding invite while I’m a hundred miles away, and I’m supposed to believe it all just happened out of nowhere?”

I can feel their suspicions rising, and it kills me not to tell them the truth. But the damned NDA I signed keeps me quiet.

“Yeah, I know it seems fast,” I admit, shrugging. “But we met one night, he kind of saved my life, and we started seeing each other after that. One thing led to another…and he proposed.”

“And you just…said yes?” Alessia scoffs, crossing her arms. She knows me too well. She knows there’s more to this story.

I nod. “Yup. Just like that.”

Gio finally speaks up, his tone laced with doubt. “See, here’s the part where I start losing you, Mira. I was there that night when one of your husband’s men approached you with some so-called proposition.”

I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fine. I knew who Ettore was before that happened.”

Alessia rolls her eyes. “So you’re telling us you fell for this mysterious guy, got swept off your feet, and suddenly you’re Mrs. Greco? Do we look like we were born yesterday?”

I sigh, trying to keep things light. “Look, I know it sounds insane. But it’s real, all right? I’m here, I’m married, and…well, this is my life now.”

“Are you happy?” Gio asks quietly, his gaze steady.

I pause, caught off-guard by his question. I open my mouth, but words don’t come right away. “It’s…complicated,” I finally manage.

Alessia gives me a sympathetic look. “You know you don’t have to pretend with us, Mira. If things ever get too overwhelming, we’re here.”

Giovanni crosses his arms, giving me a once-over like he’s trying to see past me. “If you were forced or coerced into this marriage, you can tell us.”

I manage to laugh, even as my chest tightens. “It’s not like that. Promise.”

I’m not lying, but he’s not wrong, either.

Alessia narrows her eyes. “Then what’s it like? Living in this gorgeous house, married to a billionaire?”

I force a smile and hope to God it looks real. “It’s…amazing. He takes care of me and my family, and he loves me.” I lie through my teeth.

Alessia squeezes my hand, looking at me earnestly. “You know I won’t judge you if you married him for his money, right? I mean, who wouldn’t be tempted if a billionaire came along?”

A real laugh slips out. “No, it’s not about the money.”

It totally is.

Giovanni sighs, his voice softening. “Look, as long as you’re safe, we’re happy for you. But if he’s forcing you into anything…”

“He’s not,” I assure him. “Really, I’m happy. Or don’t I look it?”

“You actually do,” Alessia teases, grinning. A mischievous gleam in her eyes. “You’re glowing. I’m assuming you’ve, um, sealed the deal…”

“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face as Giovanni cringes. “I do not want to discuss that! Anyway, enough about me. What have you two been up to?”

Alessia rolls her eyes. “Trying to dodge, huh?”

“Yep.” I smirk. “Now spill.”

They finally give in, telling me all about their trip and how Alessia’s grandmother bluntly told them she wants grandkids soon.

I laugh as Alessia recalls explaining to her that they’re not exactly ready for marriage, only for her religious grandmother to say she didn’t care as long as they had babies.

For the next hour, I joke with my friends, feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks. For a little while, I forget I’m Mrs. Greco.

My first day of college arrives faster than expected. Stepping onto campus feels surreal—tall buildings, the bustling energy of students, the hum of a hundred voices blending into the kind of chaos I missed. Here, I’m just Mirabella, an International Relations major.

In one of my classes, I sit next to a guy named Milo. He’s American, with a crooked smile and a laid-back attitude that instantly puts me at ease.

“So, what’s your story?” he asks, giving me a curious look after one of our lectures is over.

“Story?” I chuckle, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s something about you,” he says, grinning. “You don’t seem like just any regular gal.”

I laugh. “Oh, I’m as regular as it gets, Milo.”

“Uh-huh.” He glances at my hand. “That rock on your finger says otherwise.”

I almost forgot about my wedding ring. I’d thought about leaving it at home for a ‘normal’ college experience but decided against it. Ettore made it clear that everyone, everywhere, should know I’m married.

“So, married girls aren’t normal?” I ask, amused as I watch his cheeks turn red.

“N-no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, laughing. “That was sexist. Don’t tell me I’ve already blown my chance of being your friend.”

I chuckle. “You’re forgiven. We’re friends now, Milo.”

The rest of the week is jam-packed with lectures and college events, but I finally squeeze in a visit home for the weekend to stay the night.

From the outside, our old house looks just the same, except for a few repairs—new windows, fresh light bulbs on the porch, and a fixed door handle. The moment I step inside, it feels like slipping into a favorite old sweater. Nonna’s cooking fills the air, warm and familiar, and Giulia’s laughter echoes from the next room.

“Mira!” Giulia bounds toward me, practically bouncing on her toes. “I have a boyfriend!”

“What?” I laugh as she grabs my hand, dragging me toward the kitchen, where Nonna’s at the stove, stirring a pot of her famous tomato sauce.

“Well, okay, he isn’t exactly my boyfriend yet,” she corrects, a grin spreading across her face, “but I know he’s going to ask me at the homecoming dance. He already asked me to be his date…”

“Whoa, slow down there,” I chuckle as we step into the dining room. I lean over to give Mamma a kiss on the forehead, noticing the faint lines of exhaustion etched into her face. Her tired smile tugs at my heart as she sits at the head of the table.

“Don’t lean on her too much,” Nonna scolds from across the room, wagging a finger at me. “The doctor said no stress for her joints, and you’re hovering like a bad habit.”

I pull back immediately, guilt creeping in. “Sorry, Mamma,” I mumble, though she waves it off with a soft laugh.

“So, who’s this mystery guy we’re talking about?” I ask, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Kelvin!” Giulia exclaims, rolling her eyes as if I should’ve known.

“Oh, you mean the Kelvin?” I tease, raising an eyebrow as I settle into a seat beside Mamma. “Your forever crush?”

Giulia huffs, her cheeks turning pink, and I can’t help but laugh, feeling right at home with my family’s quirks and warmth surrounding me.

“Stop teasing your sister,” Mamma says gently, though I notice the way her hands flex against the table, stiff and slow. The rheumatoid arthritis is always worse after a long day, and she shouldn’t even be sitting here—but Mamma insists on being part of every family moment, no matter what.

“Are you staying the night? Please say yes!” Giulia pleads, her eyes wide with hope.

“Giulia,” Nonna interjects with a sharp tone, “Mira has plenty to worry about already. She’s got her husband now, and your mamma’s surgery is only days away. The doctor said she needs rest, not late-night chatter!”

“Nonna,” I protest softly, though the mention of Mamma’s upcoming surgery twists my stomach. “It’s okay. I’ll stay after dinner and follow you guys for the surgery tomorrow.”

Mamma reaches out, her hand brushing mine lightly. “I’m fine, cara. You don’t have to worry so much.”

But I do worry. The looming surgery, the medication schedule, the strict dietary restrictions—all of it is like a constant drumbeat in the back of my mind. No matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, it’s impossible not to think about it.

Thankfully I have Guilia to always make me forget how depressing it can be to an adult sometimes.

“Yay…Now let’s talk about me,” she starts, clapping her hands. “You can help me pick out a dress! I’ve got a list of options, but I need your fashion expertise.”

Dinner is a whirlwind of chatter and laughter. It’s the happiest I’ve felt in weeks. Later that night, Giulia and I curl up in my old bed, and I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. This…this is home. Not the cold, unwelcoming Greco mansion with its stony stares and harsh whispers, or the bedroom where I can never fully relax, knowing Ettore—my husband, who I’m supposed to feel nothing for—is right next to me every night.

This is peace. And right now, it’s exactly what I need after the week I’ve had.

Eventually, I drift off to sleep. But sometime in the middle of the night, I wake up to the smell of smoke.

My heart pounds as I sit up, blinking in the darkness. I immediately shake Giulia awake.

“Wake up, Giulia!” I say, urgency in my voice. She stirs, mumbling, then her eyes snap open as she notices the thick smoke seeping in from under the door.

“Mira?” she whispers, her voice laced with fear.

“We need to get out, now.” I jump out of bed, pulling her with me.

Giulia and I rush out of the room as my heart pounds, hoping Mamma and Nonna are safe.

The hallway is filled with thick, acrid smoke, and the heat hits us like a wall as we step out of the room. I’m about to head toward Nonna and Mamma’s shared room when I hear a cough somewhere ahead of us. I exhale a short breath of relief when I hear Nonna’s faint voice calling our names amidst fits of coughing.

“Nonna,” I shout, voice breaking as I grip Giulia’s hand tightly.

“Mira,” Nonna’s voice calls out, faint and strained with coughs. Relief floods through me, but my panic quickly returns.

We find Nonna struggling to breathe in the living room. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” I shout, supporting her weight. “Giulia, open the door—the fire hasn’t reached there yet.”

Giulia races to the door, shoving it open as I guide Nonna outside. She tries to speak, but it’s lost in a series of coughs. As we step onto the porch, I see our neighbors gathering, their faces etched with concern. But then a horrible realization hits me—I haven’t seen Mamma.

“Where’s Mamma?” I gasp, looking back toward the smoky hallway. My stomach twists with fear.

Nonna grabs my arm, her grip tight. “She’s still in her room. I tried to reach her, but the smoke…I couldn’t breathe. I already called 911.”

I’m zoned out as she continues to speak. My mother is inside the house!

My sick mother is inside the burning house.

I don’t think—I just move. I’m charging back toward the house, the thick smoke stinging my eyes. But suddenly, a firm grip pulls me back.

I whip around, heart skipping, and find myself face-to-face with Abruzzi. He’s here. But how…and why?

But I don’t have the time for questions as he pulls me back.

“Get your sister and grandmother to safety,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto mine.

I don’t have time to argue or question him. In an instant, he’s moving past me, disappearing into the smoke.

I lead Nonna and Giulia farther from the house, my heart pounding. Flames have started to lick up the left side—the side where Mamma’s room is. Grabbing Nonna’s phone, I dial Ettore’s number which I now have memorized. It rings, but he doesn’t pick up.

“Come on, come on…” I whisper, my voice thick with tears. The phone rings out, and I scream in frustration, throwing it down.

Abruzzi reappears carrying Mamma, who is coughing and clinging to him as he brings her outside. Relief floods through me, and I rush to her side, taking her hand.

“Mamma, are you okay?” I whisper, holding her close.

Someone hands her a bottle of water, and she sips it slowly, regaining her breath. Behind me, I feel Abruzzi’s presence again.

“It’s cold,” he says in a low, steady voice. “You all need to get somewhere safe.”

I’m about to demand why the hell I should go with him when I glance back at the house, watching the flames consume it. My tired mother, my frail grandmother, and my anxious little sister all stand beside me, and I let out a shaky breath.

Without another word, Abruzzi helps us into his car and drives us to one of his safehouses on the quiet side of town. I have so many questions, so many things to say, but I’m exhausted. I just want my family safe.

An hour later, we’re seated in a sterile, quiet room. My family is asleep in the other room, but I can’t even close my eyes. My mind races with everything that’s happened. Abruzzi brings over two glasses of water, sliding one toward me as he sits down.

He watches me over the rim of his glass. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he says, his voice calm but edged with something darker. “Ettore’s protection isn’t as solid as you think.”

I stiffen, his words sinking into me like ice.

“He doesn’t know…”

Abruzzi snorts, his eyes narrowing. “He doesn’t know? Is that a fucking excuse? He made you his wife, Mira. He’s supposed to protect you and your family. Two hours have passed. Where the hell is he?”

“Ettore wouldn’t just leave me for dead,” I snap back, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. “Maybe he’s…busy. He hasn’t been home for two nights. He’s⁠—”

“Busy?” Abruzzi cuts in, voice sharp. “So, his work comes before your safety?”

I hate that the doubt is creeping into my mind, wrapping around my thoughts like the smoke from the fire. Abruzzi leans back, studying my face and watching the seed of doubt he’s planted grow.

“I have watched over you and your family since you got involved with that…brute,” he spits.

“You’ve been watching me?” I choke, unable to process everything that’s been happening.

“Yes.” He lets out a sigh, a hint of frustration mingling with something I can’t quite place. “I know you hate me, Mira—despise me, even. But I know what happens when vulnerable people like you get involved with monsters like Ettore.” His gaze drops to the floor, and he mutters, almost to himself, “You told me to stay away, and I did…at least in the ways you could see. I could’ve ignored what I saw tonight, could’ve let things take their course. But I didn’t.”

I want to lash out, tell him he’s wrong, call him a liar and manipulator, but…deep down, I know he’s right. Without him, this night might have gone horribly wrong. And he knows it.

Abruzzi stands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Think carefully, Bella. I may be a bastard, the monster you once accused me of being, but tonight, I was there, and Ettore wasn’t.” His voice lowers, but his words are sharp as knives. “I saved your mother’s life. Maybe you hate me for it. Maybe you owe me for it. But don’t forget that when it mattered, I was there.”