Page 77 of Broken Mafia Bride

Marco’s jaw clenches. “Unlike you, I don’t kiss and tell, but you’re truly delusional if you believe the bullshit you’re spouting. A lot happened while you were… forgotten.”

Silence settles like a ten-ton weight between the two men. The tension is so palpable that I feel like I can grab it if I reach out. I glance between them, trying to decide who to talk senseinto, but they both look like they’re a second away from lunging at each other.

“You’re lying,” Raffaele finally bites out. “She would never touch you.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Marcos smirks, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “And are you really going to stand here and say you didn’t touch anyone? ’Cause it’s starting to reek of hypocrisy out here.”

“Marco, stop! Both of you—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“He started it,” Marco grumbles.

“I cannot believe you said that,” I scoff. “I’m beginning to think I’m the only adult around here. I’m not a fucking piece of meat for you two to fight over. We’re all supposed to be working together to find Noemi. Do I even have to remind you two of this?”

Raffaele snorts. “I doubt there’s anything the fisherman can do to help.”

“There’s only one of us she recognizes.” Marco cocks his head. “So there’s only one of us she’s going to come running to, and it’s definitely not the big, angry, unfamiliar dude claiming to be her daddy.”

I throw my hands in the air in frustration. “You know what, why don’t you two just whip out your dicks and grab a tape measurer? That will certainly be more efficient than running your mouths like little boys.”

“Giulia—” Raffaele begins, but I’m already marching back to the house. I’m too pissed to even be disappointed in both of them. All I want is to catch a damn break and find my kid, not placate grown men who should know better.

Frustrated, I march back into the house, intent on finding Caterina to offer me some distraction from the testosterone-fueled idiots in this house.

I hear footsteps approaching me, and when I raise my head, I catch sight of Isabella. My cousin used to be my safe space, the person I could always talk to about anything and trust to steer me right, but since the news of her and Raffaele’s engagement, I’ve found myself avoiding her.

It’s not entirely about me being upset that she’s engaged to the man I love—it’s also the fact that I can’t talk about some happy affair while my child is missing. I don’t have the patience to hear about wedding bells when Noemi is god knows where with god knows who.

Too bad for me, though, I can’t avoid her forever when we’re living under the same roof.

“Giulia!” she cries in delight, hurrying forward. “Just the person I was looking for. Where have you been?”

“Just around,” I say hesitantly.

“I heard Enrico’s here,” she says with a soft smile. “It’s good having everyone in one place again. Feels like it’s been a long time.”

My stomach twists, but I manage a polite nod. “Yeah… it has.”

She hesitates, then adds carefully, “I’ve been thinking about possibly moving the wedding date—just slightly. So everyone’s still around. No pressure, of course… I just want it to feel right. Whole.”

I force a small smile. “That makes sense.”

She pauses again, more tentative now. “I know there’s a lot happening right now, and I don’t want to overwhelm you, but… when things settle, I’d love to talk to you about some of the plans. I was thinking something a little softer for the dresses—maybe pink or mint green. But we can talk about it later.”

Bile stings the back of my throat, and I quickly swallow it down. “I appreciate that. Honestly, I can’t think much about thewedding right now, but I’m sure whatever you choose will be beautiful.”

She draws in a slow breath, arms folding gently across her chest instead of flaring out in frustration. “That doesn’t feel fair,” she says quietly, her eyes meeting mine.

“Excuse me?” I blink at her.

She holds my gaze. “All my life, I’ve done my best to be there for you, through everything. I’ve stood by you, supported you, helped clean up more than a few messes.” Her voice doesn’t rise, but there’s a clear undercurrent of emotion. “And now that I need a little bit of that in return, it feels like I’m being pushed aside.”

I gape at her. “Isabella, my child is missing.”

She nods, her expression softening but still steady. “I know. I do. And I can’t imagine what that feels like. I’m not asking you to drop everything and throw yourself into wedding planning. I just… I thought maybe talking about something lighter might help. Even for a minute.”

I exhale, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease. “I’m not trying to be unsupportive. I just can’t focus on things like dresses right now. That’s all. But it’s your day—I’ll wear whatever you choose.”

Her face shifts, guilt creeping in. She steps closer. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice quiet. “That was thoughtless of me. I never even considered how you must be feeling about all of this.”