Three Divorces Later, The Mafia Princess Is Getting Married Again Chapter 02
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
Dario went to answer it, his voice tight with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
The heavy scent of alcohol drifted in from the entryway. A woman stood there, her cheeks flushed bright red, clearly heavily intoxicated. She smirked and said, “I knew you weren’t asleep yet.”
Dario frowned, throwing his arm out to block the doorway, but she deftly slipped past him.
She stumbled into the living room, spotting me, and gasped in surprise. “Why are you here?”
Two familiar figures stepped into the living room right behind her, flanking her like knights guarding a princess.
Leandro held her arm to steady her, offering me an explanation. “Aurelia, Marcella Orsini drank too much. We were bringing her home, but she insisted on stopping by to see you guys.”
Silas remained silent, his expression grim as he glanced at me before turning to Dario. “Aurelia is right here. Why did you let Marcella come inside?”
Dario froze for a second, then snapped angrily, “The two of you were drinking with her and brought her to my place. How is this my fault?”
“If you hadn’t announced you were going back to being single, Marcella wouldn’t have gotten wasted,” Silas sneered, stepping half a pace aside as if he couldn’t be bothered to argue further.
Caught in the middle, Leandro cleared his throat awkwardly. “Alright, cut it out. Don’t fight. Marcella just wanted to stop by on her way—”
I stood in the center of the living room, watching the entire performance from beginning to end.
Their synchronization was flawless.
If I hadn’t heard them plotting to make me sign those divorce papers with my own ears, I would have truly believed they were at each other’s throats.
For the longest time, I believed that the bond I shared with Leandro and Silas was unbreakable.
At the height of our friendship, I had been willing to enter sham marriages just to help them.
My parents had once been the most feared heads in New York, until they were assassinated by enemies from Italy. My uncle then became the new Don.
I was only six years old back then. During my darkest days, it was Leandro who climbed over the wall to read me picture books and make me laugh.
When I was eight, an assassin tried to stab me, and Silas threw himself in front of the blade.
I had wept hysterically beside Silas’s nearly lifeless body.
From that day on, I swore to treat them like my own family.
But when did our unbreakable trio begin to rot?
It probably started the year Marcella appeared.
She showed up on the dance floor of an afterparty one night, drawing everyone’s attention with her sultry moves. Boys wearing family crest rings were lining up to buy her a drink.
Leandro was the first to leap onto the floor and invite her to dance, their bodies pressed close, their laughter echoing until the music stopped.
Silas chased away any other guys who tried to pursue her, declaring that Marcella was the princess of the mafia and no ordinary man was worthy of standing beside her.
Slowly, I was pushed to the margins, a forgotten afterthought.
They only remembered me when they needed a favor.
Some fractures didn’t just appear today.
I was just finally ready to see it.
Marcella suddenly spoke up, her voice slurring slightly, “I’m not drunk at all.”
She gazed intensely at Dario, then snatched the divorce papers off the coffee table. “I see your name on this. Aren’t you two deciding to get divorced?”
