Three Divorces Later, The Mafia Princess Is Getting Married Again Chapter 08

Three Divorces Later, The Mafia Princess Is Getting Married Again Chapter 08

Dario’s POV:

This had to be a joke.

Just like the prank Marcella played on me.

Just like the lie I told Aurelia.

It had to be a cruel game, a manufactured nightmare meant to punish me.

I kept telling myself that, fighting wildly against the guards’ grip until a blunt strike to the head knocked me into complete darkness.

When I finally woke up, I was hit with a formal restraining order banning me from the vicinity of the Romano estate.

I resorted to my phone, desperate to reach her.

But over the next few months, she never sent a single reply.

The days when she would text back within seconds during our honeymoon phase felt like a lifetime ago.

I dialed that familiar sequence of numbers over and over.

Each attempt ended in a hollow, automated ring.

My grip tightened around the phone, my knuckles turning white.

No, she was probably just busy. Her phone probably died.

Drifting through the city like a ghost, I found myself outside a gallery owned by Aurelia. It was a private property, a sanctuary known only to a select few.

And there, through the glass, I saw the silhouette that had haunted my dreams.

She was actually there.

But the sight that followed froze the blood in my veins. The detestable Benedetto was standing right beside her.

I took an eager step forward, only to freeze completely.

Aurelia was wearing a loose, flowing dress. Beneath the fabric, her stomach clearly curved outward—she was at least five or six months along.

My eyes glued themselves to her bump as my mind frantically calculated the timeline.

It had been exactly six months since our divorce.

Could it be… was Aurelia carrying my child?

My heart hammered against my ribs, and a sudden, hot sting rushed to my eyes.

Aurelia’s POV:

A pathetic ex-husband stumbled into my gallery. Benedetto moved to have him removed, but I raised a hand to stop him.

Some loose ends needed a clean break.

Before I could speak, Dario burst out, “Aurelia, let’s get married again. I’m never letting you go this time.”

I let out a cold laugh. “I’m already married, Dario. We had a beautiful wedding, and the entire New York underworld witnessed it.”

Dario stared at me, his voice trembling. “In just a few months, you already found someone else to replace me?”

I laughed out loud. “Actually, it was the exact second you walked out the door. Fate loves a good joke, doesn’t it, Dario?”

His eyes grew bloodshot as he stared at my stomach. “The baby… isn’t it mine? I’m the father, aren’t I?”

I looked at him, completely stunned by the sheer depth of his delusion.

“That is hands down the funniest joke I’ve heard all year,” Benedetto chimed in, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my hair.

The realization finally shattered Dario’s reality.

It wasn’t his. It never was.

He had lived under the illusion that I was trapped, that I would wait around forever, that all he had to do was turn around and find me there.

But every arrogant joke carries a price tag from fate.

…

Dario left, looking like a hollow shell of a man.

A heavy weight lifted from my shoulders.

This time, it was truly over.

Lately, I had been systematically settling old scores. Leandro and Silas had committed a string of offenses using my name, and I made sure to clean up every single mess.

I restructured our family’s corporate layout, reallocating resources among the capos. Even with the pregnancy, I worked late into the night.

Leandro and Silas were currently drowning in the underworld, stripped of power, but they had brought it entirely on themselves.

As for Dario, he had some talent, but the pathetic truth behind our divorce had inevitably leaked to the streets.

No self-respecting man dumps his wife over a friend’s prank. Once the truth surfaced, the looks he received turned to pure mockery. He was barred from summits, and the doors to high-society syndicates slowly clicked shut in his face.

And as for me…

I recently discovered that my uncle had always loved me deeply. He had been just as devastated by my parents’ murder as I was.

That was the real reason he arranged my marriage to Benedetto—to leverage the Rinaldeschi muscle and completely wipe out the hitmen from Italy who

took my parents’ lives.

Understanding everything, I mended fences with him, dedicated to learning how to rule as a true queen.

I was also deeply grateful to my uncle for bringing Benedetto into my life.

“Do you really not care that I’ve been divorced three times?” I asked one evening on a whim, revisiting the old question. “You didn’t grow up in New York, so maybe you don’t get how prejudiced these old-money families can be. They view women like assets on a ledger—one divorce and you’re marked down by twenty percent.”

Benedetto seemed to mull it over with genuine seriousness.

Then, a classic, bad-boy smirk spread across his handsome face.

He looped an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and murmured against my ear, “I just figure I’m such a flawless husband that the universe had to give you a run of bad luck first just to balance things out.”

Like I said, he’s an interesting guy.