Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 225 - 35 ~ Jace

She stopped at the top of the staircase just as I stepped into view.

One look. That was all it took.

One second of seeing her, my wife, my pregnant wife, standing there alone, flushed from being outside, holding a grocery bag too heavy for her, chest rising a little too quickly...

Every muscle in my body pulled tight.

I didn’t shout, didn’t move fast or even do anything dramatic.

I just looked at her.

And she knew.

"Mira," I said, my voice low, rough around the edges. "Where were you?"

She swallowed, fingers tightening around the paper bag. "The store."

The store.

Alone.

My chest burned hot, then cold, then hot again.

I kept my voice steady, trying to no let things get out of control. "Did anyone come near you?"

"No." She murmured.

"Did anyone touch you?"

"No." She still couldn’t look me in the eye.

I sighed. "Did you feel unsafe?"

Her lips parted, and that tiny hesitation in that fraction of a second made something black coil in my stomach.

"I handled it," she said quietly.

Handle it.

She’d handled something.

I stepped closer, as calmly as I could because if I didn’t, I was going to tear the staircase apart with my bare hands.

"What happened?"

"Jace..." She exhaled, tired, like she’d been holding her breath for hours. "People recognized me. They had opinions. They talked. But nothing happened to me."

"When you say ’talked’—"

She cut me off gently. "I wasn’t hurt."

That wasn’t an answer.

I reached her finally, placing my hand under her chin, tilting her face up. She didn’t flinch, but I felt her pulse racing beneath my fingertips.

My voice softened. "Tell me everything."

She told me. Not all at once because Mira never dumped information in one go. But she gave me the important pieces first. The whispers. The phones. The women who followed her around. The questions that weren’t really questions. The crowd that grew too fast.

And through it all, she stood there like she hadn’t been rattled.

She was steady, composed and unshaken. But I knew her too well.

Her eyes had that faint shimmer she only got after holding herself together for too long.

I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing her in, grounding myself with the scent of strawberries clinging to her hoodie.

"Why didn’t you tell the guards when you were leaving?" I whispered.

Her voice was small, honest. "I needed space."

That hit me harder than the harassment.

She needed space? From me?

I cupped her face fully now, my thumbs brushing her cheeks. "You need space from pressure, not protection."

"I’m not fragile."

"I know." My mouth tightened. "But you are carrying our child."

Before she could respond, my phone buzzed.

I ignored it.

It buzzed again.

And again.

A very specific vibration pattern.

Marco.

I clenched my jaw and pulled it out, still keeping one hand on Mira’s waist like I needed the contact to keep my sanity.

I read the message.

Marco: The video wasn’t random. Someone pushed it to three major gossip accounts. Paid contract. Not amateurs.

My grip on the phone tightened.

Another message immediately followed.

Marco: We found the first upload. It was sent from a masked IP. Professional routing. Someone did this on purpose.

My veins went cold.

Mira saw the shift in my face instantly.

"Jace...?"

I looked at her, trying to soften everything sharp inside me. "It’s nothing you need to worry about."

She raised a brow, completely unimpressed. "That means it’s absolutely something I should worry about."

I almost smiled despite everything. God, she knew me too well.

But I wasn’t giving her the weight of this—not today. Not after everything she’d gone through.

"It’s being handled," I said.

She opened her mouth to argue, but I placed a hand gently on the back of her head and pulled her into my chest. She let out a shaky breath against me.

I wrapped my arms around her completely, careful with her bump, careful with her breathing, careful because that instinct to shield her was clawing up my spine.

She was stiff for one second... then she melted into me.

Just like that, the ice in my chest cracked.

"I didn’t want to stress you," she murmured against my shirt. "You’ve had enough going on. I just... needed to feel normal."

I closed my eyes, pressing my lips to the crown of her head. "You don’t ever need to hide from me."

"I didn’t hide—"

"Yes, you did." My voice was gentle. "But I understand. I really do."

Her fingers curled in the fabric of my shirt, anchoring herself to me. That alone made my heart twist.

"I’m trying, Jace," she whispered.

"I know," I said softly. "And I’m proud of you. More than anything."

She looked up at me, searching my face. "...You’re not angry?"

The question tore something open in me.

"Mira," I said quietly, "I was scared."

She blinked, confused.

"Not of you leaving the house. Not of you going to the store." I paused, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "I was scared of the fact you felt safer alone than protected."

Her breath hitched.

I shook my head before she could misunderstand. "I never want to smother you. I never want to cage you. But the world is cruel in ways you shouldn’t face without backup."

"That’s why I said I handled it," she whispered.

"I know you did. And I’m proud of you for that too." I stroked the back of her head. "But I am still allowed to panic."

She let out a tiny laugh. "Just a tiny bit?"

"Just a tiny bit," I murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Another vibration buzzed through my phone.

Another message.

Marco again.

Marco: Boss... there’s more. Check your email. Urgent.

I didn’t open it. Not yet.

Not while I still felt Mira’s heartbeat against my chest.

Not while her shoulders were still trembling from holding herself together.

Not while her scent was calming every violent instinct screaming inside me.

"Let’s sit," I whispered, guiding her toward the nearest chaise chair in the hallway. "Slowly."

She didn’t argue this time. She lowered herself down and I knelt in front of her, ignoring every voice in my head telling me I was being ridiculous.

She touched my cheek. "Jace... this isn’t your fault."

"It is," I said quietly. "The moment you married me."

Her eyes softened, but I cut her off before she could reassure me.

"But I will fix it. All of it. I don’t care what it takes."

I meant every word.

I kissed her palms, one and then the other, as if grounding myself in the only truth that mattered.

She leaned forward and kissed the top of my head, fingers combing through my hair the way she did when she wanted me calm.

"Let’s go back to bad," she said softly.

I nodded.

Not because I wasn’t boiling inside, I was, but because she needed me next to her more than anything and I completely understood it.

I lifted her slowly, one arm around her waist, the other supporting her back. She wrapped an arm around me too, her movements careful, trusting.

We walked into our bedroom quietly.

She went to wash her face.

I sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand.

I finally opened my email.

The attachment took a moment to load.

And then my stomach hardened into stone.

A screenshot from a documentary teaser.

A frame-by-frame breakdown of the harassment video.

A timeline of "Romano activity."

And a note beneath it from Marco:

"Someone is really using her to get to you."

My jaw clenched hard enough to hurt.

But I didn’t get up.

I didn’t storm out.

I didn’t start making calls.

Instead, I looked toward the bathroom door where the sound of running water meant Mira was still washing away the stress of the morning, still trying to steady herself, still craving peace I couldn’t give her.

Not yet.

But I would.

She stepped out, face softer, hair damp at the edges. She walked to the bed slowly, watching me.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

I placed the phone beside me and opened my arms.

"Come here."

She did.

And as I wrapped her against my chest — feeling her belly press into me, feeling her breathing even out — I whispered into her hair:

"Nothing and no one is going to touch you. I swear it."

Her fingers slid up to my jaw, her voice warm and trusting. "I believe you."

Good.

Because right then, holding her like the world wasn’t already shifting beneath us, I made a silent promise.

Whoever had started this...

Whoever thought they could use her as leverage...

Whoever wanted to test how far they could push...

They were about to learn that I don’t just protect my family.

I destroy anything that threatens them.

Permanently.

The war hadn’t started yet.

But I had.

I reached for my phone and typed a message to all my men in the mafia.

I had not stepped into my role for a while but if the world wanted to paint me black so be it.

Me: Find out who’s doing this and bring me their head on a platter.

No one messes with my wife.