Wed To The Mafia, Wedded To Revenge Chapter 07

Wed To The Mafia, Wedded To Revenge Chapter 07

I lost track of how much alcohol I drank or how long I slept. I dreamed of Matteo that night, a peaceful, happy dream.

My earliest memories were all from the foster home. Every kid there hoped to get adopted — everyone but Matteo.

He never went forward when potential guardians visited.

I later learned he had been adopted once before, only to be sent back when the couple had a child of their own. He refused to endure that heartbreak again.

We grew close after he fought off a boy who bullied me. I was five years old, and he was ten.

After hearing his story, I decided I did not want to be adopted either.

Matteo ruffled my hair and smiled warmly.

“It’s alright. You’re just quiet.”

A teacher noticed my natural talent for drawing and encouraged me to pursue art. Matteo worked tirelessly to pay for my art classes.

He was only thirteen, yet he stood tall and strong. He lied about his age to work three different jobs each day just to cover my fees.

Time passed, and he was accepted into the police academy. Refusing to leave me behind, he took me with him to New York.

I met the late Mr. Bianchi here, the master painter who recognized my

gift. One of my paintings sold for an enormous sum, turning me into a well-known young artist overnight.

I turned down all media interviews, but a photographer still managed to capture my picture.

My birth parents saw the photo and tracked me down through the Bianchi family. They cried as they held me after the DNA test confirmed our relation.

Matteo was happier than anyone when I reunited with my family. He was in his third year at the academy then, his skin tanned from endless training.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and bragged about me proudly to his fellow cadets.

“Look everyone! Seraphina is a true art prodigy!”

My birth parents were desperate to erase my difficult childhood in the group home. Their first demand was that I cut all ties with Matteo.

I was furious. He had raised me. He was my real family.

When I refused, they went behind my back to speak to him.

That night, I received a short message from Matteo.

He wrote that his work as an officer was dangerous, and staying close to him would put me at risk. He told me he was leaving for an undercover mission.

I rushed to find him, but his roommate said he had already departed.

I heard nothing from him for an entire year.

I never imagined our next meeting would be inside a morgue.

Matteo had uncovered the Volkov family’s illegal organ trafficking ring. Damian needed a transplant desperately.

The Volkovs staged Matteo’s death as a simple car crash and harvested his organs for Damian.

All evidence vanished. Witnesses stayed silent. Everyone in New York knew the truth, yet no one dared to speak up.

The Volkov name held too much power. A lonely boy from a group home was not worth fighting for.