Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 167

Chapter 167

Aria – First Person POV

I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there.

The sun was lower now, casting soft golden light through the windows. I’d curled up in a quiet little nook near the hallway, knees pulled to my chest, just… thinking. Or maybe not even thinking. I was just there. Everything felt heavy in my chest, like I was holding in air and couldn’t let it out.

I wasn’t sure if I was mad, scared, or just… tired. Probably all three. Probably more.

The silence was the only thing that made sense.

No footsteps. No voices. Just the low hum of the fridge down the hall and the soft ticking of a clock somewhere I couldn’t see. I felt like if I moved or made a sound, the whole world would crash in again. So I stayed still.

And then I felt someone sit down next to me.

I turned slowly and saw Rita.

She didn’t say anything at first. She just sat there beside me with her hands in her lap, looking ahead like she was waiting for me to speak. She didn’t force a smile or ask me if I was okay. She just was there. And I didn’t realize how much I needed that until I felt the pressure behind my

eyes.

I didn’t even know how to start.

But then, quietly, I said, “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

My voice cracked a little, but I kept going.

“I was just trying to finish school. I didn’t want to be anyone’s target. Or pawn. Or… whatever the hell I am now. I didn’t even know my father was mixed up in something this big. Now people want to hurt me. Or take me. And I just… I don’t even know who I am in all of this.”

Rita still didn’t speak. She reached out and gently placed her hand on top of mine. Warm. Steady.

“I keep pretending like I’ve got it handled,” I whispered. “Like I’m strong. But I’m not. I’m scared all the time. I wake up expecting something bad to happen: I feel like I’m holding on by a thread.”

I wiped at my face quickly, annoyed at myself for crying again.

“I didn’t want them to see me fall apart. So I left. But now I don’t even know where I want to go. Or what I’m doing. I’m so tired, Rita.”

She let out a soft sigh and finally spoke.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

She squeezed my hand gently and smiled a little. “You’ve been through a lot. More than any girl your age should ever have to. But don’t you dare think that makes you weak.”

I looked at her, and she smiled again.

“You’re still here,” she said. “Still breathing. Still speaking up. That’s strength. You didn’t break. Even when everything tried to break you.”

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Chapter 167

I lowered my head and leaned it against her shoulder. She didn’t move. Just sat there with me.

“You remind me of myself, you know,” she said, her voice soft. “When I was younger, before the boys were born, life threw some wild things at me. I didn’t know how to fight, but I learned. I had to. And so will you.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I just feel like everyone’s making choices for me. They move me around, keep secrets from me, tell me it’s for my own good–but I never get a say.”

“That’s because men–especially mafia men–think protecting means controlling,” she said. “They don’t mean harm by it. But it’s still hard. I know.”

“Did you ever want to run away?” I asked.

She laughed gently. “Oh, more times than I can count. But then I looked at those three boys of mine and remembered why I stayed.”

We sat in silence for a bit longer.

Rita shifted a little beside me, still holding my hand, and looked out the window like she was remembering something. “You know, when the boys were little, I used to sit up at night and worry about everything,” she said. “Money. Safety. Whether or not I was doing a good job. And then when they grew older and started getting involved in… all this,” she waved her hand vaguely, “it just got worse. I’d lie awake wondering if the next call would be the one telling me they were gone. You never stop being scared for the people you love. But you also learn to live with the fear instead of letting it control you. That’s what you’re learning now too, even if it doesn’t feel like it. You’ve been tossed into something dangerous, unfair, and messy. But you’re still standing. That matters, Aria. And no one’s going to fault you for breaking down now and then. You’re human. Hell, if I were in your shoes, I’d probably be hiding in the wine cellar, drinking straight from the bottle and crying about my lost freedom.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “But you? You’re facing it. That’s strength. And don’t let anyone–especially my hard–headed sons make you feel like you’re just some girl they have to babysit. You’ve got fire, Aria. I see it.”

Then she gave me a playful nudge. “Enough sulking. Come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”

I gave a small smile. Just a tiny one. But it was real.

I stood up slowly, wiping my cheeks with the sleeve of Enzo’s hoodie, and followed her down the hall.

As we walked, I glanced toward the side wall where all the family pictures hung. I’d seen them before–baby photos of the triplets, one of Chiara and Rita in the kitchen, and a few older black–and–white portraits.

But one photo caught my eye. It was an older man in a crisp suit. He looked powerful, like someone who wasn’t used to being questioned. There was something sharp in his expression… something I couldn’t quite place.

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