Undressed By The Mafia God-Chapter 151: We’ll Fix This

But Bianca wasn’t finished.

The gun barked again.

And again. And again.

She turned, firing wildly into the room—the door, the wall, the decorative shelf near the television. Bullets ripped through wood and plaster, splintering furniture and sending fragments scattering across the floor.

The noise was deafening in the enclosed space.

Smoke filled the air, the sharp scent of gunpowder burning in Veronica’s lungs.

Bianca kept pulling the trigger like she was emptying every ounce of fury she had carried for months.

By the time the chamber finally clicked empty, the room looked like a war zone.

Her breathing came in angry bursts, chest rising and falling as she stared at the destruction around her.

Somewhere behind her, Veronica’s scream had dissolved into shocked silence.

Then footsteps thundered toward the annex.

The door flew open.

Luca’s guards flooded into the apartment, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the chaos in front of them.

Bianca stood in the center of it all, perfectly still.

Slowly, she dropped the gun on the ground.

Then she walked out.

Head held high.

As if none of this concerned her anymore. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

The guards didn’t stop her.

None of them were stupid enough to lay a hand on the legal wife of Luciano Genovese.

So they stepped aside, their expressions tight as she passed through them.

Only after she was gone did they fully turn their attention to the room.

And the woman standing in it.

They knew immediately they were done for.

Luciano had made it particularly clear: if anything happened to her while she was inside his property, their lives were forfeit.

Every man in that doorway understood the weight of that promise.

One of them stepped forward cautiously. "Miss Scalese, are you okay?"

Veronica’s breathing felt strange. Her ears still rang from the gunfire. "I... I don’t think so." she stammered. She looked down at her hands. Blood was dripping from them.

"Oh God!" one of the guards blurted, panic instantly spreading through the room.

Everything moved faster after that.

Men rushing forward.

Voices overlapping.

Someone swearing under his breath.

Veronica followed their gaze downward.

And that was when she saw the dark stain spreading across her thigh.

For a moment, her brain struggled to understand what she was looking at.

Then it clicked.

One of the bullets had ricocheted.

It must have struck the floor or wall and bounced back.

And now it was lodged in her leg.

The adrenaline that had been carrying her through the confrontation suddenly began to fade.

Pain crashed into her all at once.

Her knees buckled as the realization hit. She had been shot.

"Fuck!" another guard said.

This wasn’t good.

This was catastrophic.

The head guard could already feel Luca’s wrath. "Call Nonnina!" the head guard shouted.

The other guard spun on his heel and bolted out of the annex.

Behind him, the head guard crouched beside Veronica, gripping the back of the chair as he tried to steady her.

"Its alright, Miss Scalese," he muttered. "We’ll fix this."

Veronica barely heard him.

The adrenaline was fading too quickly now. The pain had arrived fully.

Meanwhile, the guard who had run was already bursting through the doors of the main building.

As soon as he entered, the scene inside looked absurdly normal compared to the chaos he had just left.

The long dining table was being set.

Maids moved around quietly, placing silverware and adjusting plates.

At the head of it all stood Nonnina, directing them as she always did.

And nearby—Bianca stood beside the table, calmly inspecting the food the cooks had prepared, lifting the lid of a dish and studying its contents.

"Nonnina!" he called.

Both women turned.

"What is it?" Nonnina asked.

"Miss Scalese has been shot!"

Blood drained from Nonnina’s face instantly.

"By who?" she demanded.

The guard hesitated.

Then his eyes flickered toward Bianca.

It was subtle.

But it was enough.

Nonnina followed the line of his gaze slowly. Her eyes landed on Bianca. "Mrs Genovese..." Nonnina said quietly, dread settling into her bones. "What have you done?" She didn’t wait for an answer. Nonnina immediately turned, her small but determined steps already moving toward the door.

But Bianca moved faster.

Her hand shot out and caught Nonnina’s arm.

The older woman stopped.

"Anyone who attends to her will be shot instantly. You want to fuck with me?" she added.

Nonnina slowly turned back toward Bianca. "She is Luca’s guest," she argued.

But Bianca only laughed. "I know exactly what he has been doing with his guest," she said, her eyes glittering dangerously. "And how you encouraged it along." Bianca stepped closer. "You are on in years," she continued smoothly. "You could fall off the stairs, Nonni... and no one would question it."

Nonnina didn’t fear Bianca.

But she knew exactly what kind of storm would follow this moment.

And Luciano Genovese was not here to stop it.

"Mrs Genovese, I beg of you." Nonnina said.

"Enough! Everyone get back to their posts and no one leaves this compound. She can as well bleed out for all I care."

The guard who had delivered the news shifted uncomfortably.

Bianca smoothed a hand over the tablecloth, inspecting the arrangement of plates. "Now, Nonni," she continued smoothly, "would you please be so generous as to continue with setting the table. I am famished and Don will soon be here anyway."

"Of course." Nonnina turned and walked calmly toward the kitchen.

To anyone watching, it looked like obedience.

Like the old woman had accepted her place and returned to the duties she had been given.

But the moment she stepped inside the kitchen, away from Bianca’s direct line of sight, her movements changed.

She ignored the maids and moved straight toward the small phone mounted on the wall in the corner.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for it.

Because if Luciano Genovese walked into this house and discovered that his Bambola had bled to death under his own roof...

No one here would survive the night.

Nonnina dialed quickly.

Someone had to be warned. Someone had to act.

(Brought to you by Jennifer Willard)