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Pampered By The Ruthless Chicago Don
img img Pampered By The Ruthless Chicago Don img Chapter 5 5
5 Chapters
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 5 5

Isabella POV

Angelina's eyes locked onto the pastries, her chest heaving as she desperately searched for a way to strike back. She picked up a delicate pink macaron, her lips curling into a condescending smile.

"Oh, Isabella, you might not have the palate for these," Angelina said, her voice dripping with exaggerated pity. "I heard in Sicily, your kind prefers... what is it? *Cannoli*? So heavy and unrefined."

I didn't bristle. Instead, I reached out, selected a pale green pistachio macaron, and took a slow, elegant bite. I turned my gaze to the woman sitting beside her.

"Gloria, look," I murmured, a lazy smile playing on my lips. "What a thoughtful sister we have. Though she must have forgotten that my late mother favored Ladurée in Paris. True aristocracy doesn't flaunt its taste, Angelina; it simply knows how to appreciate all beautiful things. It is a matter of breeding. You will learn it eventually."

Angelina's face flushed a violent crimson, her mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.

Gloria immediately jumped in, eager to elevate her own status while defending the Princess. "Isabella, darling," she began, her tone sickeningly sweet. "Angelina is just a child. As her older sister-in-law and our future Matriarch, you should be more magnanimous."

I let my eyes drift over her, stripping away her false warmth with a look of utter blankness. I turned to the Matriarch. "Forgive my intrusion, Donna Eleonora, but who is this?"

Gloria's smile shattered.

Eleonora stiffened, her jaw tight. "This is Gloria. Marco's wife."

I turned back to Gloria, letting the full weight of my new title settle into my posture. "Gloria. Remember, in the Russo family, respect is paramount. Next time, introduce yourself first. Otherwise, one might mistake you for a distant relative seeking asylum at the estate."

Humiliated, Gloria's eyes flashed with pure venom. She decided to go for the throat. "Speaking of respect," she sneered, her voice rising shrilly, "I heard someone slept until noon today, forcing our Don to lie to his own mother about being 'unwell'! You are undermining the Don's authority!"

The solarium went dead silent.

I let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "Goodness, Gloria. Are you so fascinated by my husband's private life? Were you hiding under our bed last night?"

As she gasped, scandalized, I dropped the smile. My voice turned to ice. "Or are you publicly accusing the Don of the Russo family of being a coward who must lie to his mother? If such treasonous words reached our enemies, do you know the consequences? You are threatening the security of this entire family."

I shifted my gaze to the Matriarch, cornering her. "Eleonora, the tea I had sent to you this afternoon... you found it to your liking, didn't you?"

Eleonora stared at me, trapped. To agree with Gloria was to call her son a weak liar. She remained rigidly silent. Gloria's triumphant smirk vanished, replaced by sheer panic as she looked to Eleonora for help that wasn't coming.

Eleonora had reached her limit. She shot a warning glare at Angelina and Gloria, but her deepest resentment was reserved for me.

"Enough," Eleonora commanded. She looked at me, her dark eyes hard. "Isabella, as the woman of this house, you must learn tolerance. You will bear with your family."

The blatant favoritism ignited a cold fire in my veins. I stood up, the heavy silk of my gown rustling loudly in the quiet room.

"My rules are simple," I said, my voice ringing with absolute clarity. "*Vendetta* is a two-way street." I let my gaze sweep the room, pausing briefly on Sophia, offering her a subtle nod of acknowledgment. "Sophia treats me with courtesy, and we have peace. But these two have breathed nothing but hostility since I walked through those doors. I will not swallow insults."

I stepped closer to the table, looking down at the Matriarch. "Let us be perfectly clear. This marriage was requested by the Russo family. It was sanctioned by *The Commissione*, and blessed by Antonio Falcone of New York himself. If you have grievances with my presence, take them to Damien, or to the men who forged this alliance. Do not test me. Because I, Isabella Russo, am the Mafia Queen of this family, and that is an indisputable fact."

I set my bone china teacup down on its saucer. The sharp, ringing *clink* echoed like a gunshot in the suffocating silence of the glass room.

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