Married to Mafia Boss novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Alia POV

I came to my senses and hurried to follow, but Luca stopped me: “Alia, we’ll take care of Mr. Vittoria here, no need to trible yourself a work if you need to.‘

Luca’s words made me very uncomfortable, clearly treating me as an outsider.

When my own husband was sick and I couldn’t even be by his side, I felt so depressed, as if someone had slapped me hard across the face.

I realized I had never truly entered Marco’s life. Marco’s background, Marco’s work, everything about Marco seemed untouchable to me.

Now that Marco was sick, I couldn’t even stay by his side as his wife to care for him.

I bit my lip, feeling increasingly upset–first because I was worried about Marco, and second because my heart felt blocked.

“Woof woof…” Sensitive Laura, sensing my bad mood, rubbed against my feet and barked a few times to comfort me.

I crouched down and gently stroked Laura’s head. “Laura, your dad is sick, but mom can’t be by his side to take care of him. Do you think mom is useless?

“Woof woof…” Laura barked a few times and licked my hand.

“Thank you, Laura.” I patted her head. “Baby, go play now. Mom needs to get ready for work.”

Cortez Technology was going through a difficult time. The issues with the Castro family and the Red Scorpion Group hadn’t settled, and now Marco was sick.

I couldn’t handle the major decision–making matters, but I could do my job well, which would at least share some of Marco’s responsibilities.

Recently, because Cortez Technology’s business volume had hit a new low, the employees‘ moods were affected, and everyone’s work spirit was low.

I didn’t know if Marco was unable to fight against the Castro family or if he was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to counterattack.

In the office, some colleagues were chatting, others browsing Twitter; no one was working seriously, which was concerning.

Sighing quietly, I composed myself, opened my work computer, and prepared to tackle new tasks.

After checking several client files, I called them one by one to see if I could arrange meetings to discuss potential collaboration projects.

After making several calls, the clients all hung up claiming they were busy, leaving me discouraged.

I spent most of the morning dealing with rejections and worrying about Marco’s condition. Just after ten in the morning, Marco called.

Seeing his increasingly familiar number on my phone screen, my hand holding the phone trembled slightly. I was so anxious that I failed to swipe the answer button several times.

Finally connecting, I heard Marco’s deep, somewhat hoarse voice: “Alia, where are you?”

“At the office, working.” Hearing Marco’s voice, my nerves, which had been tense all morning, finally relaxed.

After I spoke, there was a long silence on the other end, as if Marco had nothing more to say.

I waited a moment, about to speak, when Marco said, “Then continue working.”

“Marco…” I called to him, pressing my lips together. “Are you feeling better?

*Not dying.”

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Chapter 58)

Marco’s excessively cold voice coming through the phone made me feel both hurt and angry,

I bit my lip, somewhat defiant, and said, “Good that you’re not dying. Ill hang up now.

“Mm.” The man on the other end coldly grunted and hung up first.

Looking at the darkened phone screen, my heart felt as if something was squeezing it tight, making it hard to breathe.

I had worried about Marco’s condition all morning, anxious and restless, and now before I could ever ask about his specific condition, he had bung up

I stared intently at my phone screen, which lit up again. This time, it was Luca calling..

Luca called to ask me to come to Bellavista Private Clinic.

Bellavista Private Clinic was a very famous private hospital, reportedly with medical equipment even more advanced and complete than Portano City Hospital, and naturally, it was ridiculously expensive.

Although I was still somewhat angry about Marco’s attitude earlier, I couldn’t stay upset with him. I needed to see with my own eyes that he was okay in feel at ease.

After ending the call with Luca, I first went home to make Italian vegetable soup–minestrone with pasta–using my grandmother’s secret herbal recipe. My mother had taught me from a young age that after a fever, the body needs gentle, nutritious food.

I rushed to Bellavista Private Clinic, arriving close to one in the afternoon.

Bellavista Private Clinic had tight security, and ordinary people couldn’t enter, so Luca had been waiting outside the security office early.

Seeing me, she smiled and came over: “Miss Alia, this morning, because I was concerned about Mr. Vittorio’s safety, I spoke without considering my words carefully. Please don’t take it to heart.”

It’s fine.” What I cared about wasn’t Luca’s attitude toward her, but that when Marco was sick, I, as his wife, couldn’t help at all.

Marco and I were husband and wife, supposedly the closest relationship between two people, yet this morning made me feel as if Marco and I were from two

different worlds.

After walking for more than ten minutes, we arrived at Marco’s room. Luca said, “This is Mr. Vittorio’s room. I won’t

go

1. in.

I nodded: “Thank you for

your trouble.”

The door was slightly ajar. Looking through the gap, I saw a middle–aged woman, probably around fifty, preparing food for Marco.

The woman was taking various delicate food containers out of an elegant food box and arranging them on the table. Every movement was practiced, showing

she did this often.

Seeing that someone had already prepared so much food for Marco, I looked at the thermal container in my hand and instinctively hid it behind my back, not wanting Marco to see how humble my prepared food was.

I pushed the door open, and the woman immediately looked over. She glanced at me, then her gaze fell on the food container in my hand with some

curiosity.

The hospital room was a one–bedroom suite. The living area was a rest area, arranged very cozily with all necessary furniture and appliances.

I didn’t see Marco in the living area and couldn’t be sure if he was in the bedroom.

I looked at the woman and smiled awkwardly: “Excuse me, is Marco staying here?”

The woman looked at me for quite a while before pointing to the inner room. The young master is in the bedroom.

“Thank you!” I smiled politely at the woman before going to see Marco.

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Chapter 58

My heart racing, I walked toward the inner room. Upon entering. I saw Marco sitting on the bed, wearing a black silk pajama, with an IV drip in his late

“Marco, I called to him, but he didn’t even look up, as if he hadn’t heard my voice.

Standing there, holding the cooling soup, watching my husband immersed in his own world, I felt like an outsider.

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