The Mafia Secret Wife

No," I lied, the word tearing from my raw throat before my brain could stop it. I forced myself to lower my hands, swallowing down the hysterical sob building in my chest. "He isn't yours."

​Roman staggered back a step as if I had physically struck him. "Don't lie to me, Mia," he breathed, his voice cracking with a terrifying mix of grief and rising fury. "Look at him. Look at his eyes, his hair,he’s three years old! Do the fucking math!"

​"I moved on, Roman!" I screamed, my body shaking as I stood my ground, shielding my son's identity with the only weapon I had left: a painful lie. "You vanished without a trace! Did you think I sat in a dark room waiting for a ghost?! I found someone else! He isn't a De Luca, and I will never let you drag him into your fucking blood-stained world!"

​Roman looked like he had been stabbed in the chest. He stared at me, his knuckles white as he squeezed my phone, the thought of me belonging to another man visibly tearing him apart.

​Before he could speak, the study door burst open.

​"Boss, we have a massive problem," Marco, his senior lieutenant, said, breathing heavily. "Your father saw the hotel news reports. He ran a check on Mia's apartment records and found out about the boy. Don De Luca is ordering you to bring the child to the main estate immediately.

​"No!" I gasped, terror icy and sharp piercing my heart. "He is not a piece of your mafia chess game! You tell your father to stay away from him!"

​I braced myself for Roman to order his men to fetch the child, to take his father's side. But Roman turned to Marco, his jaw set like granite.

​"Tell my father the boy isn't here," Roman growled, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Get the cars ready. We're moving to the safehouse."

​Within thirty minutes, Roman secretly moved us out of the penthouse estate and into a heavily fortified safehouse hidden beneath a residential compound on the edge of the city. He refused to let me leave his sight, placing guards at every exit while his men swept the area for the rival Syndicate that had broken into my apartment.

​While Roman coordinated security downstairs, I paced the private study, trying to stop my hands from shaking. Desperate to find a secure phone line to reach Leo's nanny, I yanked open the main desk drawer.

​A thick leather folder marked with a silver seal caught my eye.

​I flipped through the confidential bank statements and wire transfers inside. Someone high up inside the De Luca family had been systematically draining millions from the family's primary inheritance accounts for years. My breath hitched as my eyes scanned the signature on the authorization forms: Julian De Luca. Roman’s older cousin, the exact man currently standing as Roman's biggest political ally in the family.

​Suddenly, my phone chimed on the desk with a flood of news alerts.

​Isabella Moretti had struck back. She had leaked staged, private photographs of Roman and me from years ago straight to the press, publicly framing me as a ruthless mistress who had trapped the mafia heir into a fake marriage. Overnight, the entire city turned against me, painting me as a calculating gold-digger destroying an elite family.

​The study door opened, and Roman walked in. His expression darkened instantly as he saw the news playing on my screen.

​"Deny the marriage, Roman," I whispered, my voice trembling with exhaustion. "Tell the press I tricked you. Clear your name and save your reputation."

​"No," Roman said without a second of hesitation.

​He walked straight to the PR team waiting in the hallway and stepped in front of the live camera feed. "Mia is my legally wedded wife," Roman stated coldly, his eyes locking onto the lens with lethal conviction. "Any attack on her character is a direct declaration of war against me."

​Before I could even process his sudden protection, the ground beneath us violently shuddered.

​BOOM!

​A deafening explosion rocked the safehouse, blowing out the reinforced windows above. Alarms blared as heavy automatic gunfire erupted from the floor above us.

​"Breach! They found us!" Marco yelled, sprinting into the room with his weapon drawn.

​Roman didn't waste a second. He grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling me behind him as he kicked open a hidden bookshelf panel. "Down the emergency tunnel! Move!"

​We scrambled through the damp, narrow concrete passage as gunfire and shouting echoed violently behind us. Someone had leaked our exact coordinates.

​We burst through the metal door at the end of the tunnel, spilling into the dim underground parking garage. But every escape SUV sat on flat tires, their fuel tanks leaking onto the cold concrete.

​Standing beside the main exit gate was Antonio, Roman’s most trusted personal bodyguard, the man who had protected Roman since he was a teenager.

​Antonio slowly raised a silenced pistol, pointing it directly at Roman’s chest. His hands were shaking.

​“I’m sorry, Boss,” Antonio whispered, tears swimming in his eyes. “They have my family. I had no choice.”

​Roman immediately stepped in front of me, shielding my entire body with his massive frame. "Antonio, put the gun down."

​Antonio’s finger tightened on the trigger.

​BANG!

​A loud gunshot echoed through the garage. Antonio’s eyes widened in shock. The gun slipped from his hands, and he collapsed heavily onto the floorboards.

​I gasped, covering my mouth as blood pooled on the concrete.

​Standing behind the fallen bodyguard was a tall, dark figure shrouded in gunsmoke, holding a smoking pistol.

​Roman froze, staring in absolute disbelief. "Father?"

​Don De Luca stepped forward, his dark suit pristine, his cold eyes sweeping over the dead guard before locking squarely onto me.

​“You still don’t understand why I made my son leave you three years ago,” his father said, his voice terrifyingly smooth.

​I stepped out from behind Roman, my heart pounding in my throat as I faced the head of the De Luca empire. "Leave my child out of this! He isn't a De Luca! He isn't Roman's son!"

​Don De Luca’s lips curled into a cold, ruthless smile.

​“I know,” his father said quietly, his gaze shifting to the dark shadow of the garage exit. “That child isn’t a De Luca heir.”

​He paused, the silence turning deadly.

​“He’s a Veyrith.”