Page 81 of Broken Mafia Bride
“I’m the one carrying your child, Raffaele. I’m the one whose life is shifting in ways I can’t control. I deserve to be honest about that. To exist in this story without being treated like a secret.”
Her voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its strength.
“I know what you and Giulia had. I’m not trying to erase that. But whatever it was… It’s over now. It has to be.”
“There’s no place for you in my heart, Isabella,” I tell her quietly. “You’ve always known that. I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do, but whatever it is—it’s not going to work.”
She steps in close, placing a hand on my chest. Her touch is gentle, but her voice isn’t.
“You’re wasting your time with Giulia,” she says, cool and deliberate. “She doesn’t want you, Raffaele. Do you really believe that in all those years away, she never even thought of picking up the phone to call you? Sure, she was afraid to come back to Chicago, but why didn’t she ask you to come to her? Don’t be naïve.”
I try to push her off, but her fingers curl tighter into the fabric of my T-shirt, holding fast.
“Giulia loves me,” I say through clenched teeth.
Her expression sharpens. The softness leaves her eyes entirely.
“You’re delusional. I guess I was right to send Marco to the garden, after all.”
Anger rises to the surface—hard and fast—and I shove her back without thinking.
She stumbles, gasping, her eyes going wide—but there’s no fear in them. Not really. Just something darker. Calculated.
“You did what?” My hands curl into fists, my voice low and dangerous.
The look in my eyes has made grown men step back.
But Isabella doesn’t move.
She meets my gaze with a twisted little smile—the kind that says she’s tired of pretending.
“Come on, Raffaele. Don’t look at me like that.”
Her voice is calm, even playful—but the edge is unmistakable.
“You’ve been chasing a girl who’s broken your heart a dozen different ways, and I’ve been here this whole time, trying to stop you from making the same mistake all over again.”
I shake my head, fury vibrating in my chest. “I don’t need you to save me.”
Her smile fades, and for the first time, something sharp flashes in her eyes.
“No,” she says. “You need someone to tell you the truth. And I’m the only one who’s ever had the guts to do it.”
My jaw tightens, my teeth grinding so hard I might crack a molar. It doesn’t deter her.
“Like it or not, you do,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You think you’d have survived all these years without me? That you’d have had any chance with Giulia again—as a drunk fool who spent every night getting his knuckles busted and bloody? You were a loose cannon, and I cleaned up your act. And what do I get for that?”
There’s a look in her eyes—one I can’t reconcile with the Isabella I’ve always known. She was always Giulia’s supportive cousin, and after Giulia left the first time, she became my friend.She always rooted for us. So all of this feels like something out of an alternate universe.
I don’t get it. I don’t get her. I’d started to notice the shift ever since that night, but it’s like seeing her in an entirely different, blinding light now.
“What did you expect? That my eternal gratitude would somehow turn into love?” I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Is that too much to ask for?” she cries. “What has Giulia ever done for you except be a fucking burden?! She’s wrecked you over and over again, and you go running back, begging her for another chance to wreck you all over again.”
Her voice breaks slightly as she presses forward.
“Why can’t you look at me differently? What does she have that I don’t?”
