Escaping the Dungeon of a Mafia Heir's Cheap Love

The Pentarchy famiglie forbid their heirs from marrying commoners.

But Matteo Adorni loves me so deeply that he plays revolver roulette against his father just to be with me. Even as blood soaks through his shirt, he still holds me and smiles softly.

He says, "Don't be afraid, Rosella. Only death can separate us."

But later, he secretly sleeps with Giorgia Vitalis behind my back.

When I discover this, he explains guiltily, "The price for the famiglia allowing us to stay together is for Giorgia to give birth to my heir. Please wait for me, okay?"

After that, he sleeps with Giorgia 33 times, and they have a daughter.

However, the heir must be a boy.

So, he sleeps with Giorgia another 99 times. This time, when Giorgia becomes pregnant again, she tearfully accuses me of poisoning her unborn child.

Matteo points a gun at me. "Why are you trying to kill Giorgia? Why are you trying to kill my child?"

I am chained inside the Adornis' dungeon. All I can do is beg day after day.

Finally, the dungeon doors open once again...

This time, I will not wait for him anymore.

Rosella's POV

"I agree to a full erasure and completely wipe out my identity," I announced, looking at Matteo Adorni's papa, Don Domenico Adorni.

"You should have agreed to this deal a long time ago, and now you've wasted so much of our time. Commoner women truly have no brains."

He leaned heavily on his cane and sized me up with pure disgust, as if I were something filthy and repulsive. But I no longer cared.

Moments later, the Underboss, Venero Castellano, unchained me from the rack. Pain shot through my body, and my legs gave out as I collapsed onto the floor.

"You'll leave in a week, and you are never to return. Once your identity is wiped out, no one can ever find you again," Domenico said and lifted my chin with the tip of his cane.

The light flooding in from the open dungeon doors stabbed at my eyes. As I crawled out of the dungeon, I felt like I was about to be reborn.

"Rosella!"

A familiar voice rang in my ears before Matteo gently wrapped me in a blanket. "Papa finally agreed to let you out!"

My stomach couldn't help but churn violently the moment I caught the scent of Giorgia Vitali's perfume on him.

"Giorgia's fully recovered now. She even said she's willing to forgive you, so let's just put this behind us."

"But I never poisoned her," I protested.

Matteo's expression immediately darkened. "I told you, Giorgia has forgiven you, so stop making excuses."

"But—"

"Hey, behave… I told you it's over, so it doesn't matter anymore. Just keep your head down for the next few days while I arrange our departure. We leave in a week."

How did it not matter anymore?

The poisoning accusation was the reason why I was whipped and tortured in the dungeon, so how could it possibly not matter now? Why was I forced to accept the blame in silence for something I had never done?

Matteo didn't trust me at all.

My heart began to throb in waves, and tears slipped down my face.

Back then, when Giorgia first claimed I had pushed her down the stairs, I wept and desperately explained to him that I hadn't even touched her. We were about to leave, so why would I try to kill Giorgia now?

But he didn't give me so much as a second glance.

Cradling Giorgia in his arms, Matteo delivered his cold, final verdict to his men. "Take her to the dungeon. Make sure she learns to be compliant."

Then, he looked down at her with a gentleness that had once belonged just to me…

During our first few years together, Matteo used to look at me just like that.

If I accidentally scraped my skin, he would fret and tend to me, meticulously cleaning the wound and applying ointment. He would even cook my meals himself.

I used to laugh and coyly say, "You're going to make it impossible for me to leave you."

He would hold me tight like I was his most sacred treasure. "That's the whole point. I want to make sure you can never leave me."

It wasn't until Domenico surrounded our home that I learned Matteo was the heir to the next Don of the Adorni famiglia. According to the ironclad laws of Pentarchy Famiglie, heirs were strictly forbidden from marrying commoners.

A dozen men had swarmed us and pointed their firearms at him as they barked orders, "You are the heir to the famiglia. Return home and fulfill your duty."

Matteo had looked back at me with a bitter smile, but he hadn't surrendered. Instead, he grabbed my hands tightly and swore. "Amore mio, you're the only one I'll ever love."

I had been deeply moved to tears as I leaned gently in his arms. He had looked at me the same way then.

But now, he looked at Giorgia with that same gentle gaze and soothed her. "Don't worry. I won't let anyone harm our child."

…

When I got to the room, Giorgia was sitting on the couch, looking heavily pregnant. She froze for a second when she saw me, then quickly smiled.

"Rosella, darling! I'm so glad they're finally willing to let you out!

"I told them I forgave you the second I woke up, but Matteo said you needed to be taught a lesson to make you behave."

I looked over at Matteo, but he wasn't looking at me at all. Instead, his eyes were fixed warmly on her.

I was about to offer a hollow, dismissive response when I looked down and caught a glimpse of the ring on her finger. It was a brilliant green emerald, reflecting a soft, elegant light that seemed to stab into my eyes.

That was Mamma's keepsake!

My pupils shrank as I grabbed her hand. "Where did you get this?"

"Giorgia liked the ring."

Matteo immediately grabbed my arm, so I had to let go of Giorgia. His expression was a look of absolute entitlement as he said, "You hurt her, so think of it as making amends."

I stared at him blankly, feeling as though I had never known him at all.

"You know exactly what this piece of jewelry means to me," I murmured. "It's Mamma's keepsake!"

He gave me a gentle look and spoke in the same soft, placating voice he always used when trying to calm me down. "But Giorgia's carrying my baby right now. Just let her have this one thing."

It was always the same sentence, and I had given in to her countless times.

He had long stopped putting me first.