Betrayed, Then Claimed by the Mafia King (18+)

Lyla Rose

_________

The palace feels cold tonight. A chill that seeps into your bones, no matter how many blankets you wrap around yourself. The fireplace is nothing more than a flickering memory of warmth and the dim light barely touches the edges of the room, casting shadows that stretch across the floor. I sit on the couch, the weight of the world pressing down on me.

The medical report lies on the coffee table, the word "infertile" staring up at me in cold, clinical black and white. It's only a piece of paper, but the truth it carries slices through me. Vincent, my husband, stands across from me, his back stiff, his jaw set in stone.

"You're divorcing me for an heir?" I laugh bitterly, the sound hollow in the icy air between us.

"You knew the deal when you married me. You can't give me what I need." He growls, his voice low and detached, like he's already let go of me, like I've already slipped from his grasp.

My heart feels like it's shattering, but I force a smile, claws of tears digging at my eyes as I fight to hold them back. "We can adopt a child. Come on, Vincent, you know you don't have to leave me just because I'm infertile." I plead desperately, my words spilling out, raw and trembling, each one a silent cry for him to stay.

His face remains a mask, but there's a flicker, just a flash of something like pain, before he shuts it down. "Adoption isn't an option; a Ricci needs a blood heir." He turns abruptly, his movement harsh and final. "My father is arranging a marriage with a suitable Italian woman. She's fertile."

"Don't say that." I push myself up, shaking and reach out to him with a trembling hand. "I don't want you marrying another woman." My fingers brush his chest gently, but he steps away, his eyes colder than ever.

His hand shoots out, clamping around my wrist with a force that makes me wince. "Don't be selfish, Rose. You can't give me what I need. Maria is beautiful, experienced, fertile, and from a powerful Italian family. She'll give me the heir I need."

The words land like a punch to the gut. "Heir isn't all that matters... I want to be with you." My voice trembles with desperation, spilling out, raw and unguarded. My breath hitches as I reach for him again, pleading, "Please."

He stares at me for a long moment, his face softening just for a second, like he's about to give in. But then it hardens again, like a mask snapping back into place. "You don't understand. Being a mafia king isn't just about power and money. It's about family, legacy. Without an heir, everything I've built will crumble." He steps closer, his words a low whisper, but they cut deeper than anything. "I love you, Rose."

His words are a confession, but they don't feel like they used to. They don't make me feel safe anymore, not when he's already slipping away. "Just don't marry Maria." My voice cracks, and I can feel the tears pushing at the back of my eyes, but I hold them back, just barely.

He cups my face roughly, his thumb swiping across my bottom lip, the motion too tender for the brutal edge in his voice. "Then who will give me the damn heir, huh?" His words are sharp, final, like a blade to the chest. "You're infertile, Rose. You can't have my baby." His hands drop from me like I'm nothing, and he turns away, his silhouette harsh against the dim light. "I'm marrying Maria tomorrow."

"Take me to a doctor. Maybe there's a way to fix my infertility." The words spill out before I can stop them, my voice trembling as I look up at him, praying for even the slightest hint of mercy.

He lets out a bitter laugh, "Three different doctors, Rose. Specialists. They all said the same thing. You'll never carry a child. The damage is permanent." His voice is sharp, cutting through the air between us. He leans down, his face inches from mine, and for the first time in a long while, I see it, the weariness, the cold frustration in his eyes. "But if you want to waste more time and money on false hope, go ahead. The wedding is still tomorrow."

"Why are you so desperate to leave me?" I croak out, the pain in my chest expanding, suffocating me. I look up at him, my eyes clouded with hurt, trying to understand the man standing before me.

His expression crumbles for a split second, the mask slipping to reveal something beneath... something human. "Because... because I'm falling apart without an heir." The words come out rough, as if they're tearing him open. He pulls away from me, his back to me now, his voice distant but thick with something like regret. "I need a son. A Ricci heir. And you can't give that to me." He starts walking towards the door, his steps heavy, like each one is a final nail in the coffin of what we were.

"Just don't leave me because I'm infertile." My voice cracks, raw, vulnerable. I call out after him, my heart shattering with each step he takes away from me.

He pauses, his hand on the door handle. "It's not just about infertility, Rose. It's about legacy. Family. Power." His voice drops lower, and I hear the finality in his tone. "The wedding is at noon tomorrow." The door creaks open, and he steps into the hallway, never looking back. "Goodbye, Rose." The door slams shut with a deafening finality.

I stand there for a moment, the silence engulfing me, suffocating me. Then, my fury rises, the pain turning into something darker.

"You can't leave me. I'll kill Maria if you marry her!" The words burst from my chest, raw and furious.

He slams the door open again, the fury in his eyes matching mine, as if he's been waiting for this moment. In a flash, he slams me against the wall, his large hand gripping my throat, not squeezing, but holding me, his fingers digging into my skin. "What did you just say?" He demands. "Say it again... I dare you." His face is so close, I can feel his breath on my lips, and I'm drowning in his eyes, in the heat of his rage. "My family would kill you for even thinking about her."

"I will kill her before you marry her... You can't divorce me." The words come out cold, detached, my anger like ice, but inside I'm breaking.

He stares at me, shocked by my sudden violence, but then something shifts in his gaze. He throws his head back and laughs, a low, mocking sound that makes my blood boil. He releases my throat, but his fingers leave a burn. "God, I love you sometimes." His hands grab my face roughly, pulling me closer. "But you're insane if you think I'll let you kill my bride."

Lyla Rose

________

"Why, her?" I croak out, my voice trembling, but not from fear. From the pain, the rage. "Why?" My eyes burn with the tears I refuse to shed, but I feel them gathering at the corners.

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "Because she's going to give me what I need. A fucking heir. Something you can't do." His hands drop from my face, his eyes locking on mine, unblinking. He steps back, his expression devoid of warmth, like he's already gone somewhere I can't reach. "So yes, I'm divorcing you. Tomorrow."

"I will end her and then we'll see what happens. I'll carve her open, and you won't be able to do a damn thing," I warn and I mean every word.

He freezes, his body stiffening as he slowly turns to face me. The playful mask vanishes, leaving only sharp angles and dark intent. "Rose, I swear to God, if you lay a finger on Maria, I will lock you up in the basement and throw away the key. You will never see the light of day again." He jabs a finger in my direction, his eyes wild. "Do not test me on this."

"Oh, yeah? So protective of another woman, huh?" I laugh bitterly, but my chest aches. "Protective of a woman who isn't even your wife yet."

His jaw tightens, his eyes darkening to a stormy blue. "She's going to be my wife. The mother of my children. Of course I'm protective of her." He steps closer, his voice hardening. "Something you would understand if you could carry my baby." He spits the words like venom. "But you can't."

I swallow the sting in my throat, the desperate need for him still clawing at me, but I force it down. "That's not all I am..." My voice trembles, but I push on, "I love you, and I don't want you marrying another woman. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Why?!" I scream again, my voice hoarse, raw with emotion.

"Because I need a fucking heir! I need a damn son to carry on my legacy!" He shouts back, his anger matching mine, his voice echoing through the walls. "You can't give me that!" His fist slams into the table, rattling everything on it. "I love you, Rose! But I need a damn heir!"

"I don't need your love. Just don't marry another woman." My voice lashes out as I shove him back, feeling a spark of power surge through me.

He stumbles, taken aback by my sudden strength. "Stop it, Rose!" His voice drops, the warning low, but it has no effect. "I'm getting married tomorrow. End of discussion." His hands smooth down his suit as if he's preparing to leave, to walk away from this entire mess. "I have a wedding to plan." He turns his back to me, moving toward the door.

"I won't divorce you." The words fall calmly from my lips, even though my chest is tight, empty inside.

He pauses, then slowly turns to face me, his eyes cold, calculating, as if sizing me up for the first time. "You don't have a choice." His voice is quiet, almost threatening. "I'm ending this marriage tomorrow, whether you like it or not." He steps forward, towering over me now, his presence suffocating.

"I won't sign the divorce papers, so you can't marry Maria," I say simply, shrugging my tiny shoulders, as if the weight of the situation isn't pressing down on me at all.

He stares at me, disbelief creeping into his blue eyes. "Are you kidding me right now?" He laughs, but there's a flash of something darker there. "You think I can't force you to sign?" He leans down, his face so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. "I'm the fucking mafia don, Rose."

"I won't sign it." I chant the words stubbornly, my resolve hardening with each passing moment.

His patience snaps. He grabs my arms roughly, his grip bruising. "You will sign those papers tomorrow morning before I walk down that aisle!" He shakes me slightly, his eyes wild with anger and desperation. "I will drag you kicking and screaming if I have to. Do you understand me?"

"I won't!" I scream, the sound of my voice raw, louder than before, shaking with emotion.

In an instant, he slams me against the wall, his large hand pinning my wrists above my head. His body pressed against mine, his face inches from mine, but there's no comfort, no love, just cold control. "You're acting like a child, Rose." His voice is eerily calm now, and it cuts deeper than any shout. "If you don't sign those papers voluntarily, I'll make you." His eyes darken further as he releases my wrists and loosens his tie. "The basement has no windows."

"You'll lock me up for what? So you can marry a fucking whore, huh?" The words come out as a slap to his face, my anger boiling over. I slap him hard, the sting of my palm matching the pain in my chest.

His face twists with fury, the slap reddening his cheek instantly. He grips my wrist, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. "Watch your mouth, Rose." His voice drops to a low, dangerous growl. "Maria is not a whore. She's a lady."

"I don't care! You're not divorcing me!" I scream louder, my body shaking with rage.

With a vicious motion, he releases my wrist and backhands me across the face, the force sending me stumbling. "Enough!" His roar reverberates through the room, his anger taking over. "You're giving me no choice! Tomorrow morning, you'll be drugged and forced to sign! Then I'm marrying Maria, and you'll be locked in the basement where you can't hurt her. I won't have my useless wife hurting the woman who's going to be the mother of my child!" His footsteps thunder as he storms toward the door. "Deal with it."

Lyla Rose

_____

Tears well up in my eyes as the full weight of his words sinks in. He's willing to lock me up and drug me just so he can marry her. The realization crashes down on me like a wave, leaving me drowning in sorrow and helplessness.

He pauses at the door, his hand on the knob. His breathing is heavy, and for a moment, I think he might turn around, say something different. But instead, his voice is thick, laden with something like regret. "I never wanted it to come to this, Rose. But you're making this impossible." Without another word, he opens the door, stepping out into the hallway. The door slams behind him, and I'm left alone, broken.

I collapse to the floor, my sobs shaking my body, my heart shattering with every sob. I don't know what to do anymore. My mind is a fog, and all I can feel is the weight of impending loss.

Hours pass. Vincent doesn't return. The palace is silent, save for my broken cries. Suddenly, a soft knock echoes through the room, and the door creaks open. It's one of Vincent's most trusted guards, Antonio. "Mrs. Ricci..." His voice is hesitant, soft, almost pitying.

I wipe my face quickly, standing up, trying to compose myself. "Yes?" I reply quietly, my voice hoarse from crying.

Antonio steps in cautiously, closing the door behind him. His discomfort is evident as he shifts from foot to foot, but there's something in his eyes, something sympathetic, even worried. "I've never seen him like this..." He admits, his voice low. "He's really going through with locking you up tomorrow." He pauses, clearly struggling with what to say next.

"He's... having the basement prepared right now. With locks, cameras, everything." His words hit me like a cold slap, but he isn't done. "And he's arranged for the doctor to come tomorrow morning to... administer the sedative." He looks at me then, his expression softens with pity. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ricci."

"Maybe because I'm just an orphan who has nothing to offer, not even an heir." The words come out broken, whispered into the stillness of the room and the ache inside me deepens.

Antonio's expression softens, his voice quiet and kind. "That's not true, Mrs. Ricci." He steps closer, a faint trace of sympathy in his eyes. "You've given him love, loyalty, obedience. Things money can't buy." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "But he's blinded by power and legacy. He doesn't see what he has."

"It doesn't matter anymore," I mutter, feeling the deep, aching numbness in my heart, the kind that just leaves you hollow.

Antonio nods, his face somber. "I suppose you're right. It doesn't matter anymore." He hesitates before speaking again, his voice barely a whisper. "What are you going to do tomorrow when he locks you up?"

I don't have an answer. I stay silent, my heart heavy, my mind clouded by a numb despair.

"I should go..." Antonio's voice is soft, full of regret. He moves to the door, his hand on the knob, then pauses. "I have orders to report back to him." He turns back to me, his eyes full of pity. "Mrs. Ricci..."

"If you ever need anything... anything at all while you're locked up, you can trust me to bring it to you. Without telling Don Vincent," he gives me a small, sympathetic smile before slipping quietly out of the room, leaving me alone once more.

______

Hours later, the morning sun is bright, slicing through the curtains with sharp rays that only make the coldness of the room feel more biting. I stand in front of the mirror, my hands trembling as I pull on a simple white dress. My five-foot frame feels even smaller, thinner than I've ever been. My fair skin has a ghostly pallor, the delicate curve of my neck now exposed like a wound. My blue eyes, once bright, are dull, the fire that once burned in them extinguished by the weight of betrayal. My chestnut hair is pulled into a messy bun, strands escaping like a chaotic reflection of the mess my life has become.

As I stand there, staring at my reflection, everything I once loved about him, the man who promised me eternity, feels like a distant memory. The man I see now is nothing like the Vincent I married.

And then, as if called by my thoughts, Vincent appears in the doorway, tall and broad, clad in his black wedding suit. His pale skin a sharp contrast to the darkness of his hair. His eyes, once warm and full of love, now look cold and distant. His gaze immediately locks onto my neck, the same neck he used to kiss every morning, now exposed, vulnerable. His jaw tightens slightly, but his eyes quickly flick at the paper in his hand, the divorce papers. The weight of them feels suffocating, just like the distance between us now.

"Sign them," he commands, his voice cold, slicing through the air like a knife.

I turn to face him, my expression a mask of defiance. "You know my answer." My voice is quiet but firm, and I glare at him, all the pain, all the heartbreak, hidden behind a wall of resolve.

His eyes flash with irritation, his patience thinning. He strides forward, holding the papers out to me. "Sign. Them. Now." His voice is unwavering, firm, the command of a man who thinks he's in control. "The doctor will be here any moment to administer the sedative. After you sign, you'll be locked in the basement."

My heart shatters with those words, but I won't let him see it. "Is that what I get for loving you like crazy, huh?" I ask, the question broken, my eyes empty as I look up at him. There's nothing left in me but this raw, unrelenting hurt.

Vincent's expression softens, just for a moment, a flicker of something, regret, maybe? But it vanishes just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the ice-cold indifference I've come to hate. "Love has nothing to do with this, Rose." His words are like a slap to the face. "This is about power, legacy, the future. Things you can't give me." He pauses for a beat, his eyes dark. "Sign the papers."

"I won't," I repeat firmly, standing my ground, my voice stronger now, the smallest hint of defiance rising in me like a spark in the dark.

Vincent's face twists with rage. He throws the papers onto the table, his fists clenching at his sides, his breath coming in quick bursts. "Fine. Then you'll be locked up soon." He turns sharply as the door opens and the doctor enters, carrying a syringe in his hand. "Give her the shot," Vincent orders coldly, his voice as final as a death sentence. "Now."