Married to the Mafia's Lost Heir

Luca stormed out with Sienna clinging to him, both wearing furious expressions.

"Officers, that's him," Luca snapped. "A slum rat who tricked my fiancée into going to a hotel, then assaulted her and stole from her. His behavior is vile. Hurry up and take him away—let the law deal with this scum!"

I couldn't stop myself from screaming. "What nonsense are you spouting?! And how did you even know I was here?!"

Luca scoffed. "Did you forget your car's tracking app? It's still linked to me."

I wanted to curse him, but when I saw the police reaching for Matteo, I immediately stepped in front of them.

They couldn't take him. They must not take him.

"Wait! I'm perfectly aware and fully conscious. What evidence do you have to justify arresting him?

"Yes, I stayed at this hotel with Matteo last night," I continued firmly. "But we booked two separate rooms. They're smearing us on purpose. Nothing happened—both of us are completely innocent."

As I spoke to the officers, my gaze locked on Luca. He had called the police intentionally.

Matteo might have cut ties with the mafia family, but if the police took him to the station and dug into his identity, his past would resurface. The Rossi family would never help him—or spare him—again.

Sienna covered her mouth dramatically, pretending to worry.

"Two rooms don't guarantee you slept separately," she murmured. "Luca is just concerned for you. Isabella, you don't have to panic just because you lost your virtue."

I laughed coldly.

"Your concern is wasted on me. Lost virtue? Please. I'm legally married to Matteo. Meanwhile, you, Luca—calling me your fiancée while hanging off another woman—want the best of both worlds and failed, so you assume every man is as shameless as you?

"Even if we did sleep together, we're married. It would be perfectly justified."

Luca's face flushed red. He jabbed a trembling finger at me, shaking with rage.

The officers hesitated, especially after I showed them our marriage certificate.

Luca's fury crested—and then broke into a low, chilling laugh.

"Officers, look at her," he said, his voice dripping with false concern. "So thoroughly deceived she actually married the man. She's clearly not in her right mind."

He adjusted a diamond-studded cufflink with elegant disdain, letting the platinum face of his limited-edition watch flash in the sun before nodding toward the luxury car idling behind him. He never had to state he was the Rossi family's heir; his every gesture screamed old money and ruthless power.

"She broke off an engagement to me—to my family—for a penniless fraud. If that's not criminal manipulation, what is?"

The officers exchanged uncertain glances, visibly swayed by the sheer weight of his presence.

The sergeant in charge gave a slow, grim nod. "Leaving a man like you for… that. It does suggest undue influence. Probable cause is there." He motioned to his men. "Take him into custody."

"No!" I lunged forward, but Luca's security detail was faster, their hands like iron vises on my arms.

"Isabella, look carefully," Luca purred, sinking into a crouch before me. His fingers patted my cheek, a condescending, possessive gesture that made my skin crawl. "This is the man you chose. A convict. A rapist."

He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "It's not too late. Get on your knees and beg my forgiveness. I might ask my father to be… lenient. He could get off with just a few years inside."

His smug triumph twisted my stomach into a knot of pure hatred.

I couldn't bear to see them put their hands on Matteo. I threw my weight against the guards, fighting with a desperation I didn't know I possessed.

My wrist scraped savagely against the rough pavement, skin tearing open in a bright, searing line of pain. Blood bloomed and smeared the concrete.

For the first time, Matteo's composure cracked. His brow furrowed sharply, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes.

"Isabella. Stop. Don't hurt yourself."

I froze, his commanding tone cutting through my panic. A wave of crushing guilt drowned me. This was my fault. I dragged him into this.

The officers shoved him toward the open door of the squad car. But Matteo didn't stumble. His gaze never left mine, burning with an intensity that held me still. With a subtle, practiced shift of his shoulders, he simply slipped their grasp.

The lead officer reddened, opening his mouth to bark an order—

The sound that cut him off wasn't a shout.

It was the thunderous roar of high-performance engines.

Several luxury cars sped toward us, drifting in a flawless arc that blocked the road completely.

Everyone—police and bystanders—fell silent in shock.

The door of the lead car swung upward like a butterfly taking flight.

A polished black leather shoe touched the ground.

Surrounded by a formation of bodyguards, a silver-haired, powerfully built elderly gentleman stepped out with unshakable composure.