Page 30 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

Her gaze was gentle. No suspicion. No judgment. Just waiting for an answer.

I almost told her everything. But I just smiled and shook my head, denying the correct answer. "No. I just think it's what I'm supposed to do."

Lucia didn't push. She just laid her hand over mine. A silent comfort.

I thought for a moment. When I spoke again, my voice was lighter than I expected. "But I've made peace with it. Even if I'm here for a long time, it's not so bad. I have the greenhouse. I can grow all the flowers I want. And I have time. Time to do the things I actually enjoy."

"Things you enjoy?"

"Yeah." I set down the cup and stood, brushing dirt off my skirt. "Let me show you something."

I took her back to my room and pulled out some clothes from the bottom drawer of the closet. Neatly folded. A linen summer dress. An off-white blouse. A loose gray-blue cardigan. I laid them out on the bed one by one.

Lucia stood beside the bed. She ran her fingers over the fabric of the dress. Examined the stitching at the neckline. She didn't speak, but her expression said everything.

"You made all of these yourself?"

The styles didn't belong to any trendy brand. They were clearly personal designs.

"Yeah." I pulled out a stack of sketches from the drawer. "I draw the designs first. Then buy the fabric. Then cut andsew. I've always loved making clothes. Mom had an old sewing machine. I've been using it since I was little."

Lucia flipped through the sketches. Each page showed a different dress. Penciled notes about waistlines, necklines, thread colors. The handwriting was messy, but every line was drawn with care.

"This one's for you." I held up the gray-blue cardigan and held it against her. "You're walking around the manor all day. Perfect for when it gets cold in the morning and evening. I made it to fit your shoulders. Should be just right."

Lucia took the cardigan and slipped it on. Her face lit up. "It fits perfectly. Thank you, Elena."

That night, the manor was quiet as usual. I did my rounds in the garden. Nothing suspicious. I was about to head back to my room when a sharp screech of tires cut through the silence. I flinched, shoulders tensing.

Dante's car sat at the entrance. But four men got out. Two I didn't recognize were supporting two others—both covered in blood. It was too dark to see clearly. But as they got closer, I realized it was Dante and Marco. Drenched in blood. The metallic stench hit me hard.

"What happened?" I rushed forward and grabbed Dante's cold hand. "Dante, what happened to you?"

The smell of rust overwhelmed me. I wanted to throw up. The scene was horrifying. My hands trembled. The lights in the manor blazed on. Dante and Marco were brought inside. Marco had been shot. Half his shirt was soaked through. His face was white as paper.

The family doctor came running. Dante was surrounded, but he was still conscious. He ordered the doctor to save Marco.

The whole manor erupted. Maids ran back and forth with water and towels. Total chaos.

Dante collapsed back onto the sofa. His suit jacket was gone. His white shirt was stained with blood. The left sleeve had been slashed open. His exposed forearm had a gash still seeping blood. He looked wrecked. His gaze swept the chaotic hall. Then landed on me.

He told everyone to leave, including me. But I didn't move. I walked over and sat beside him.

"Don't bother me. I want to be alone." Dante covered his face with his arm, breathing hard. But I couldn't ignore his wound. That terrible gash. I couldn't imagine how much it hurt.

"I won't bother you. I'll just bandage you up and go." I found the medical kit. It had everything I needed. Dante didn't resist my touch, so I grabbed his hand and carefully disinfected the wound. It looked like a knife wound. Thin but deep.

His arm was covered in tattoos. Now the ink was smeared with blood. He looked every bit the dangerous mafia Don.

I finished disinfecting. Wrapped the wound. Gave Dante a painkiller. Then sat beside him, watching anxiously. "Do you feel better?"

Dante's eyes were heavy with exhaustion and defeat. I didn't know what had happened. The mafia world was dangerous—I'd known that. When I decided to marry him, I'd imagined this moment. I'd prepared myself.

But seeing all that blood, that deep wound—I still couldn't control my fear. This world was too dangerous. Would I end up like this someday?

"What are you staring at?" Dante's voice was hoarse. He glanced at me, helpless.

"How did you get hurt?" I frowned, face full of worry. "Don't you have people protecting you? How did you get injured this badly?"