Claimed By The Ruthless Dark Mafia Don

Giada POV

Kelsey’s panic morphed into a frantic, desperate denial. She couldn't accept that her knowledge of the past was failing her. Feigning a clumsy slip, she lunged forward, her manicured fingers hooking into the delicate silk shawl draped over my shoulders. With a vicious yank, she tore it away.

She expected to expose a canvas of bloody, ruined flesh to the room, turning me into the ultimate joke of the estate. Instead, thanks to Dr. Weaver’s miraculous black-market ointment and the calculated angle of my posture, my exposed shoulder and upper back were as flawless and pale as fresh snow.

"Impossible!" Kelsey shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria as she stared at my unblemished skin. "The Don didn't even touch you last night, did he?!"

Mia and Chloe exchanged amused, mocking glances, assuming Kelsey was merely laughing at my lack of claiming marks—bruises or bite marks from a passionate night. I slowly retrieved my shawl, my gaze chillingly calm as I watched my half-sister unravel.

Before Kelsey could embarrass herself further, the heavy double doors of the lounge were shoved open. The oppressive aura of the mafia hierarchy flooded the room as Capo Enzo strode in, flanked by heavily armed Soldiers. The petty chatter died instantly.

Enzo ignored the other Collaterals, walking straight to me. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of profound respect, and presented a black velvet box stamped with the Blackwell crest. He snapped it open. Inside rested a breathtaking pink diamond collar—a Claiming Gift worth millions.

"Signorina Ortiz," Enzo announced, his voice carrying the absolute weight of a Don's Command. "The Don has ordered your immediate relocation to the Sapphire Suite."

A collective gasp echoed in the room. Kelsey looked as if she had been struck by lightning, her eyes locked on the diamonds she had died for in another life. Sasha, the Bratva Collateral, narrowed her eyes, masking her shock with cold, dangerous calculation. I accepted the box with a serene nod, while my Associates, Rosa and Siena, trembled with excitement behind me.

The Sapphire Suite was a sun-drenched sanctuary of absolute power. As lower-level Associates bustled around, filling the massive walk-in closets with haute couture and jewels, the heavy door clicked shut. But the peace was short-lived.

Kelsey had followed me. She stood in the center of the lavish living room, her face twisted in ugly, raw envy.

"You're faking it," she spat, stepping closer, her eyes darting around the opulent room. "You don't have a single mark on you. This is all a show. You haven't won his heart, you're just putting on a brave face."

I set my porcelain teacup down on the glass table. The fragile, terrified mask I wore for Dante vanished, replaced by the lethal coldness of a true Mafia Queen. I closed the distance between us, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

"Let me educate you on survival, sister," I murmured, my eyes locking onto hers. "Attempting to pry into the Dark Don's habits, or questioning the validity of his decisions, is a direct violation of *Omertà*. It is treason. Keep digging, and you won't just lose your imaginary crown—you'll lose your tongue."

Greta, Kelsey’s older, seasoned Associate, paled drastically. Understanding the brutal reality of mafia law, she clamped a hand over Kelsey’s arm and practically dragged her toward the door.

"Let go of me!" Kelsey hissed in the corridor, ripping herself from Greta's grip. "Just wait until the morning assembly. Let's see if she survives Sasha and the others in the Solarium tomorrow."

Greta didn't reply, her eyes darting nervously, silently terrified of the black-market fertility drug secret binding them to this sinking ship.

Inside the suite, I turned my attention away from the closed door. My eyes slowly scanned the new faces of the security guards and maids the estate's internal affairs had just assigned to me, searching for the hidden venom in the room.