Betrayed and Bound To Be The Mafia Queen

Amara’s POV

The blood on my blouse had dried when I returned home. The deal with the smugglers had turned sour—shots fired, bodies dropped, and somehow, I’d managed to walk away. Barely.

I was exhausted and all I wanted was the comfort of my own bed, to lay my head down and forget the world for a few hours.

But as I pushed the door open, I froze.

Luca sat beside Casey on the bed—my bed. His sleeves were rolled up, his hands cradling a steaming bowl of soup while Casey leaned against the pillows with her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile as Luca carefully brought the spoon to her mouth.

“What... what is this?”

Luca glanced at me with a calm expression, but it was almost indifferent. “You’re here,” he simply uttered and immediately turned back to Casey as if my presence was barely worth acknowledging. “Casey fainted earlier and the doctor said she needs rest.”

“In our room?” I questioned. This was more than a form of disrespect. I was still the Donna, regardless of the child the mistress was carrying.

“She’s pregnant, Amara,” he replied sharply, setting the bowl on the nightstand. “She’s sensitive right now. I won’t have her moved around. You can sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight.”

I stepped further into the room, my fists clenched at my sides. “What?! This is my bed, Luca. Our bed. If anyone should move, it’s her!” I pointed at her but the smug on her face did not fade.

He stood tall, looming over me, and his jaw tight in irritation. “I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”

“Not having this conversation?” My voice cracked as anger and hurt bubbled to the surface. “She shouldn’t even be here! How could you—”

“Enough!” Luca shouted firmly, making me jolt in place. “Do as I say, Amara. Go,” he ordered firmly, pointing at the opened door behind me, and I knew I had lost. The look in his eyes was not the same the way he had once used towards me—with passion, now they’d changed. He had changed.

I gritted my teeth and glared over Casey who wore a victorious smile, clearly enjoying the treatment she was getting and the dismissal I was receiving.

I swallowed hard, biting back the words threatening to spill out, fighting a war I knew I’d never win—he’d made his choice. And it wasn’t me. I turned away and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me, and leaving them both in his fantasy.

The guest room felt like a cold prison. The bed was neatly made, untouched, and utterly lifeless. I sat on the edge, and despite its soft mattress, it felt hard beneath my body, and despite the thick blanket, it still felt cold to the touch. It was not the same as the warmth of my bedroom. I stared at the empty walls with the silence wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket that I had to endure.

I had never felt more humiliated in my life. My own husband had cast me aside — for her.

The image of Luca feeding Casey played on a loop in my mind, each replay was twisting the knife deeper in my chest. He had never done that for me. Not once. Not when I had fallen ill with a fever that left me bedridden for days, nor when I sprained my ankle and could barely walk.

When I needed him, Luca would send someone else—a housemaid, a doctor, anyone but himself. But for Casey? He sat at her bedside, tending to her like she was some fragile treasure.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, and I bit back the tears that threatened to spill. I had given Luca everything — my loyalty, my love, my life. And in return, he gave me this: a cold bed in a guest room and a front-row seat to my humiliation.

I leaned back against the headboard as the memories flooded in.

—

The first time I met Casey was at a gala, one of those events Luca always insisted we attend. I remember standing by his side, a glass of champagne in hand, as he introduced her to the room.

“This is Casey Tartt,” he said. “She’s an advisor we’ve brought in to streamline our financial operations.”

She had looked so modest back then with her doe-like eyes darting nervously around the room. She barely spoke, she looked so innocent with a shy smile like she didn’t belong in the world we live in. I had even felt a flicker of pity for her, assuming she was just another cog in the syndicate’s machine.

But looking back, I should have noticed the way Luca’s hand lingered on her back a moment too long. Or the way her eyes flicked to him every few seconds, seeking his approval, and at the same time, luring him to her den.

At the time, I brushed it off. I had no reason to doubt Luca. And while things were not perfect, I thought we had a partnership built on love and trust.

Then the subtle changes began.

Luca started coming home later and later, his excuses growing thinner by the day. “Business meetings,” he would say, or “urgent matters with the council.” I did not question him at first. Luca was a busy man, the Don of the Obsidian Syndicate. His responsibilities were extensive.

But then there were the whispers—the hushed conversations that stopped when I entered a room, the lingering glances between Casey and Luca at meetings.

I was a fool.

I believed his lies.

Casey was not just another advisor. She was not just some woman brought in to streamline operations. She was Luca’s mistress, his lover, the mother of the child he so desperately wanted, because I could not give him an heir, no matter how much we tried.

A knock at the door came, and my head snapped up. I wiped at my face quickly, straightening my posture as the door creaked open.

It was one of the maids. “Don Luca has requested your presence tomorrow to join them at a luncheon in Le Nora Vox with Miss Casey and other guests.”

Luca wanted me to play the dutiful Donna. Fine. But I would remind him exactly who I was—and what I was capable of.