Betrayed by the Mafia Heirs

Chapter 3: The Brother's Touch

The mansion felt like a prison.

Gilded, luxurious, but a prison nonetheless.

Alessandro was gone most days — "business," he called it.

Matteo was always around.

Too around.

That morning, I found him in the kitchen, shirtless, making coffee.

Muscles rippling as he moved.

Scars across his back — different from Alessandro's.

He turned, smiling that dangerous smile.

"Morning, sister-in-law."

I tightened the robe around me.

"Where's Alessandro?"

"Out. Said he'd be back late."

He poured coffee, handed me a cup.

Our fingers brushed.

Electricity.

I pulled away.

He noticed.

"You look tired," he said, voice low.

"I am."

He stepped closer.

"I know why."

My heart raced.

"You do?"

He leaned in, lips near my ear.

"Because you're carrying my child."

I froze.

"How..."

"I know your body, Liana. That night three months ago — you remember."

I did.

One drunken mistake.

One night of passion when Alessandro was away on business.

Matteo had been gentle.

Then wild.

I thought it was a secret.

"You can't tell him," I whispered.

"I won't."

His hand brushed my stomach — barely showing yet.

"But he will know eventually."

I stepped back.

"What do you want?"

"You."

Simple.

Dangerous.

He moved closer, backing me against the counter.

His hand on my waist.

"I dream about you every night."

His lips brushed my neck.

I should have pushed him away.

I didn't.

His mouth found mine.

The kiss was different from Alessandro's — softer, hungrier.

I kissed back.

His hands slid under the robe.

Skin on skin.

He lifted me onto the counter.

My legs wrapped around him.

He groaned.

"We can't," I gasped.

"We already did."

He kissed down my neck, lower.

I arched, hands in his hair.

The robe fell open.

His mouth on my breast.

Pleasure surged.

Then the door opened.

Alessandro.

He froze in the doorway.

Matteo pulled back, but too late.

Alessandro's eyes — black with rage.

"Get away from my wife."

Matteo smiled.

"Too late, brother."

Alessandro lunged.

They fought — brutal, fast.

Furniture broke.

Blood.

I screamed.

"Stop!"

They didn't.

I grabbed a vase, smashed it.

They stopped.

Alessandro breathing hard, blood on his lip.

Matteo smirking, shirt torn.

"The baby," I said.

Silence.

Alessandro looked at me.

"Is it true?"

I nodded.

He looked broken.

Then furious.

"Get out," he said to Matteo.

Matteo left, laughing.

Alessandro turned to me.

"How long?"

"One night."

He punched the wall.

Plaster cracked.

"You betrayed me."

"You forced me into this marriage."

He stepped closer.

"I would have made you happy."

"Would you?"

He grabbed my arms.

Hard.

"You're carrying his child."

"Yes."

He released me.

"Get out."

"Where?"

"I don't care."

I left the kitchen, tears burning.

But as I packed a bag, Matteo found me.

"Come with me."

"No."

"He'll never forgive you."

"Maybe not."

But as I looked at the mansion — my prison — I wondered.

Was Alessandro the monster?

Or was I?

The war between brothers had begun.

And I was the prize.

Or the weapon.