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.