The Forgotten Wife of the Mafia Boss
Chapter 3
The countryside house sat far from the city, surrounded by olive trees and stone walls that felt older than memory.
My days were structured from the moment I arrived.
At five in the morning, a housekeeper knocked on my door.
By six fifteen, I was expected in the private family oratory — a narrow room lined with dark wood and old portraits of De Luca ancestors. A single candle burned at the altar.
I was told to kneel.
No conversation. No argument.
The butler, an older man who had served the De Luca family for decades, stood near the doorway during morning devotions.
Meals were simple and sparse. Bread, broth, vegetables. I slept on a narrow bed with a thin blanket. The stone floors held the night’s cold well into the morning.
By the third night, my body began to fail.
The fever came first — slow, then sudden.
My skin burned while my hands trembled with cold. A ache spread through my lower abdomen, tightening in waves that forced me to curl up.
I pressed a hand against my stomach.
“Just hold on,” I whispered. “Please.”
The pain sharpened.
I forced myself out of bed and made it to the door, knocking weakly.
“Please,” I said. “I need a doctor.”
“Madam, Boss has told us you can’t leave here. You must stay inside”
“I’m not trying to leave,” I said, struggling to stay upright. “I’m sick.”
There was a pause.
Then the door opened.
Two guards stepped inside.
“Take her back to bed,” the butler said calmly.
They lifted me without warning and put me down again.
“You can’t do this,” I said, breath shaking. “I’m pregnant. If something happens—”
The butler’s expression didn’t change.
“Boss warned us you might say that.”
His words cut deeper than the pain in her body.
I was left alone again.
The door locked.
The room felt smaller.
The pain in my abdomen tightened until I could barely breathe.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears slipping down my temples. “I’m trying.”
The last thing I remember was the moonlight cutting across the floor.
When I opened my eyes again, the sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air.
White ceiling.
IV line in my arm.
A monitor beeped steadily beside me.
“You’re awake.”
Alessandro sat beside the hospital bed.
His hair was a mess. His jaw shadowed with stubble. His eyes red-rimmed, but not from crying — from lack of sleep.
“The doctor said your fever reached forty degrees,” he said. “You were dehydrated.”
He reached for my face.
I turned away.
“You should have told me sooner,” he said.
“I did.”
He ignored that.
“Bianca lost a child,” he continued. “We already carry that weight.”
I stared at him.
“You still don’t believe me.”
His jaw tightened.
“If you were pregnant,” he said, “you wouldn’t risk it like this.”
A hollow laugh escaped me.
I didn’t volunteer to go to that countryside house.
He rubbed a hand over his forehead.
“We owe her a life,” he said quietly. “You know that.”
“Do we?” I asked.
Before he could answer, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Bianca.
He answered.
Her voice trembled through the phone. Something about a negotiation gone wrong. A shipping partner losing his temper. She sounded afraid.
“I’ll handle it,” Alessandro said immediately. “Stay where you are.”
He stood.
“There’s an issue at the docks,” he said. “The nurse will take care of you.”
He left before I could respond.
Not even a second of hesitation.
A nurse came in shortly after to adjust the IV.
“You’re lucky,” she said gently. “He brought you in himself. Didn’t wait for an ambulance. Everyone in Palermo knows it.”
“They said he wasn’t calm about it,” she went on, lowering her voice. “When the estate called and told him you’d collapsed, he drove out there right away. Since then, no one has seen the butler who was in charge that night.”
A chill ran through me.
To everyone else, it would sound like devotion.
A man who removed anyone who failed his wife.
I closed my eyes. This marriage, his man, this name make me suffocating.This man.
They wrapped around me like walls.
I rested my hand over my belly.
If I stayed, this child would grow up inside those walls.
I couldn’t allow that.
But before I left—
I needed his signature to end this marriage.
Mafia Marriage From Betrayal to Obsession
21-On My Wedding Day, My Fiancé Wanted to Take His Sister-in-Law for a Prenatal Checkup
After I Burned The House Down and Faked My Death, the Two Alphas Finally Regretted It
Mafia Boss’s Heir Is My Stepsister’s Son
Left for dead, found by the mother I lost
After the Seven-Year Contract Ended
Fated Mate Isn’t Me
The Forgotten Wife of the Mafia Boss
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