Forbidden Claim: A Mafia King’s Obsession

Chapter 26: Breached

Nadia’s POV

The heavy click of the double doors sealing us in feels like a death sentence. For the next few seconds, the only sound in the dining hall is the faint hum of the air conditioning. The food on the table has gone cold and is completely forgotten. I keep my hands folded tightly in my laps, squeezing my fingers together so tightly my knuckles turned white. I can’t let her see me trembling. Not again. I sit frozen, praying that she just ignores my presence while we wait for her son to return.

Francesca remains silent at first. She just picks up her wine glass, swirling the dark red liquid around, watching it coat the glass like blood.

“You are too afraid to even eat,” she says smoothly, her voice cutting through the silence. She sips from her glass, her sharp eyes not leaving my face for a second. “It’s such a shame. Lorenzo’s chefs are world-class. But I suppose it’s hard to find an appetite when you finally realize what kind of man you are married to.”

I swallow the heavy lump of fear forming in my throat. My voice is trembling, but I can spot the mockery in her voice. “He is your son too. And I’m sure you know better than anyone that he won’t die easily, Donna Francesca.”

Her hand freezes instantly, the mocking amusement vanishes from her face, replaced by a cold mask. She fixes me a sharp stare, one filled with hatred and absolute disgust before setting her glass down with a sharp clink.

“How dare you? Do not speak my name, or speak of my son as if you know him,” she hisses, the elegant jewelry around her neck catching the light. “You are a ghost in this house, Nadia. A temporary distraction. Lorenzo thinks with his pride, but then reality has finally caught up to him. This war viktor spoke of? It is exactly the kind of bullshit that happens when a Don loses his focus.”

She slides off her seat and paces slowly toward my side, the sharp click of heels echoing like a countdown, trailing her sharp, manicured fingers on the edge of the table.

“Look at you,” she scoffs, stopping right behind my chair, the scent of her perfume suffocating me. “You try to hide what he did to you beneath a high, collar dress. You think you are clever, but you’re just a broken doll trying to play queen.”

Her manicured fingers suddenly grips my chin from behind, tilting my head up sharply. Her nails digging painfully into my skin.

“Hmm… an extremely pretty face,” she whispers. “Let’s see what happens to this gorgeousness when the alliance lines are drawn. When the enemies at the gate realizes that the great Don Lorenzo has a weak spot, because that is exactly what you are. A liability.”

I wrench my chin out of her grip, standing up so fast my chair screeches loudly against the floor, my chest heaving with anger.

“I am not his weak spot,” I say, my voice trembling with fear and undiluted anger. “If you are so curious as to why he married me, go ahead and ask your son. Don’t look at me like I chose to be here. He kidnapped me and caged me in this place against my will. I am just as much a prisoner in this house as you think I am an outsider.”

Francesca’s eyes widens in surprise of my sudden spark of defiance. Then a terrifying smile crept up her lips.

“A prisoner,” she murmurs, tapping her lips with a finger. “Unfortunately, Nadia. In this family, prisoners are the first ones we sacrifice when the walls start closing in.”

Before I can give a response, the lights in the dining hall flicker violently.

Once.

Twice.

Then the entire room plunges into pitch darkness.

The backup generators don’t Kick in. The silence that follows is heavy and terrifying. Outside, the distant muffled sound of gunshots echoes through the estate, followed by the shouting of the guards.

The war hasn’t just been declared. It is already at the front door.