Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 217

Chapter 217

Valentina’s Pov

They think I’m the monster. Maybe I am.

The room they’ve locked me in is quiet. Too quiet. No footsteps. No shouting. Just the faint hum of the old bulb swinging above my head. I’ve been counting its flickers for hours. Twenty–three now. Maybe twenty–four. I lost track when my chest got too tight to focus.

It’s funny. I’ve lived through war. Real war. With guns and grenades and people screaming your name in a way that makes your skin crawl. But this silence is worse. Because silence means they’re thinking. Deciding. Planning what to do with me. And I know how this family works. Once they decide you’re a traitor, there’s no turning back.

They think I did it to save them. That I betrayed Chiara, betrayed Enzo, because the Russians threatened my family.

But the truth is uglier.

They didn’t threaten me. Not once.

They offered me a deal.

A deal dripping in gold and promises. Enough money to drown in. Enough to pay off every angry man who came knocking on our door after Pietro died. Every gambler he owed. Every fake friend who smiled at me at the funeral and then sent men to collect.

I said yes. Of course I did. What choice did I have?

My children were starving. My home was falling apart. I was tired of watching everything Pietro touched rot in my hands. I kept thinking, he left this mess. not me. So why should I have to clean it with blood and tears?

The Russians came dressed in charm and silk, not threats. They gave me time. They gave me numbers. I gave them answers.

It was small at first. A meeting time. A shipment delay. A name I wasn’t even sure about. Then it grew. It always does.

I started waking up in the middle of the night covered in sweat with my breath caught somewhere between a scream and a sob and I would lie there in the dark staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about what I had done but the thing about guilt is that it never leaves you alone not really it just changes shape sometimes it looks like the outline of my daughter curled up on the couch hungry because I couldn’t afford both the rent and groceries sometimes it sounds like Chiara laughing in the kitchen as she tells me a story and I know deep down that if she ever finds out the truth that laugh will disappear forever and I will never get it back and sometimes it feels like the cold metal of the phone I used to make those calls to those men to those monsters who smiled like they understood like they were doing me a favor and maybe they were maybe they really thought they were helping me but all I could feel afterward was dirty like I had dipped my hands in something black and thick and impossible to wash off I would scrub them until they burned and I still saw blood under my nails even though there wasn’t any not yet and maybe that’s the worst part the waiting the knowing that consequences are coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop them nothing except hold onto the one piece of myself that I haven’t sold yet the part that still believes I can fix it somehow even if I can’t even if the ending is already written and I’m just pretending not to see the last page

I told myself it was for the family. And maybe was. Maybe it still is.

But Chiara… she changed things.

She came into my life like a scream in the dark. She didn’t ask to be saved, but I wanted to save her anyway. Maybe because she reminded me of myself. The way she stood alone in the middle of all that grief. The way she smiled with her mouth but not her eyes. We had both lost someone. Both been broken by it. And for a while, being near her made me feel like I could breathe again.

Then I ruined it.

Because no matter how much I loved her, I had put my children first. Always. Even if that meant selling pieces of myself. Even if that meant lying to the only woman who had made me feel human in years.

I lied to Enzo too. Told him they threatened to hurt my family. That I had no choice.

But I did. I made one, And now they hate me for it.

1/2

Chapter 217

Good.

Let them hate me. It’s easier that way.

What I won’t tell them is the part that really matters.

The part that keeps me up even in this freezing little basement with nothing but the sound of my own heart thudding in my ears

I know who the second mole is.

I’ve always known. Not from the beginning, no. But long enough now.

And I see things. I’ve learned to keep my eyes open even when they think I’m not watching. Like the way he avoids looking at Matter when he talks. The way he always seems to be in the room two minutes before something goes wrong. The way he knows exactly what not to say.

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