[BL] The Mafia Boss Wants My Body

Chapter 270: Chapter 270: When the Past Refuses to Die

At that very moment, a phone ringtone shattered the suffocating silence of the restroom.

Charles flinched.

His hands trembling violently, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Through a blur of hot tears, he looked down at the screen.

It was Mark calling.

Panic surged through him, flooding his body with adrenaline.

Charles immediately scrambled to his feet, bracing himself against the marble sink for support.

He desperately wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands, taking several deep, shaky breaths as he fought to steady his racing heart and calm the tremor in his voice.

Once he felt even slightly composed, he swiped across the screen and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello, honey," Charles said, forcing his voice to sound as normal as possible.

"Where are you?" Mark’s voice came through the line.

"I’m... I’m still in the restroom," Charles replied, staring at his pale reflection in the mirror.

"I’m right outside," Mark said.

The moment Charles heard those words, terror shot through him.

He quickly turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over his face, washing away the tear stains and cooling his burning skin. Grabbing a paper towel, he dried his face and hands before hurriedly straightening his suit jacket.

Taking one last deep breath to compose himself, he pushed open the heavy restroom door and stepped out into the corridor.

He immediately spotted Mark standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall.

The tense look on Mark’s face made Charles’s heart skip a beat.

Did he see Owen walk out? Did he hear us?

Before Charles could say a word, Mark closed the distance between them in just a few quick strides.

His hands gently cupped Charles’s face, his thumbs brushing softly over his cheeks. Leaning down, Mark carefully studied his pale face, his eyes searching every inch for any sign that something was wrong.

"Babe..." Mark murmured, his voice filled with concern. "Your face is completely flushed."

He lifted a hand to Charles’s forehead, his brow immediately knitting together.

"You’re burning up." His eyes met Charles’s. "Do you have a fever? What’s going on?"

The warmth of Mark’s touch and the genuine concern in his eyes sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over Charles.

Forcing a weak smile, he leaned slightly into Mark’s hand.

"I’m fine, honey... really. It’s just... my stomach’s been bothering me a little. But I’ll be okay."

Mark’s frown deepened. His gaze briefly dropped to Charles’s slightly rumpled suit before returning to his face.

He didn’t like how pale and fragile Charles looked.

"We’re leaving," Mark said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Sliding an arm securely around Charles’s waist, he gently pulled him close.

"Come on."

Charles blinked in surprise, his thoughts racing.

"What? We’re leaving already?"

"Yes, we are," Mark said, his eyes filled with quiet determination. "You’re not feeling well, Charles. You need proper rest, and I want to get you home so I can take care of you."

"No, baby. I’m fine now," Charles insisted, forcing a small smile. "I haven’t even stepped into the reception yet."

"What’s the point?" Mark asked gently. "The formal part is almost over. Everyone’s already given their speeches, the toast is done, and the newlyweds have had their first dance."

He gently brushed his thumb across Charles’s waist.

"Right now, everyone’s just eating, drinking, and talking. So why are you forcing yourself to stay when you’re clearly not feeling well?"

"But I really am fine now, honey..."

"No. We’re leaving, and that’s final," Mark said, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument.

Charles swallowed hard, realizing there was no way he could win without making Mark even more suspicious.

"Okay... at least let me say goodbye to everyone."

"Just send them a message," Mark replied without hesitation, guiding him toward the exit. "I’m not taking any chances. You always keep quiet whenever you’re hurting instead of telling me what’s wrong. I’m not going to stand here and wait until you collapse. We’re going home."

Charles let out a quiet sigh, his heart heavy with guilt and relief.

"Okay... let’s go."

Their fingers intertwined as Charles quietly took Mark’s hand, and together they walked toward the VIP parking area.

When they reached the car, Mark pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text to his twin.

Leaving early. Charles isn’t feeling well.

A few seconds later, Matteo replied.

Alright. We’ll probably be leaving soon too.

Meanwhile, back inside the grand reception ballroom, Adrian’s father spotted his son from across the room.

Leaning toward his personal assistant, he quietly gave an instruction before sending the man over to the VIP table.

The assistant approached respectfully and inclined his head. "Master Adrian, your father would like to see you."

Adrian’s expression immediately hardened.

Every instinct told him to refuse. But beside him, Matteo gently rested a hand on his thigh.

Their eyes met.

Matteo gave him a calm, reassuring look before offering a small nod.

"It’s okay, babe. Go see what he wants."

Adrian held Matteo’s gaze for a long moment, drawing strength from the quiet reassurance in his eyes.

Finally, he let out a slow breath.

"Alright, babe."

Adrian rose from his seat and walked across the grand ballroom toward his father’s table.

As he approached, his father didn’t greet him. Instead, he simply gestured toward the empty chair beside him.

Not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of Maya’s wedding, Adrian quietly pulled out the chair and sat down.

Seated around the table were his father’s new family—his wife, along with two young boys and a young woman Adrian had never seen before.

Adrian had known for years that his father had remarried after his mother’s death, but he had never once met them properly. Until this moment, they had been complete strangers.

His father cleared his throat and adjusted the front of his expensive suit jacket.

"I know you’ve never sat down with us like this before, Adrian," he said evenly. "But it’s time."

He turned toward the woman beside him.

"Meet my wife... your mother."

Adrian didn’t let him finish.

The moment those words left his father’s mouth, a cold fury surged through him.

"My mother died years ago, Father," Adrian interrupted, his voice calm but razor-sharp. "I’m not against you moving on with your life, but please don’t call someone I am meeting for the first time today my mother, no matter how many years you’ve been married."

His father’s face immediately darkened with irritation.

"Don’t be disrespectful, Adrian. Your stepmother is your mother too."

Adrian met his father’s glare without flinching.

"With all due respect, Father," he said, "why did you ask me to come over here?"

Before his father could respond, his stepmother smoothly cut in, a pleasant smile spreading across her face.

"Adrian—"

Adrian’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the way she addressed him, but he remained silent, waiting for her to say whatever she had to say.

A pleasant smile spread across the woman’s face.

"It’s finally nice to meet you, son. I’ve heard so much about you, and I’m glad we finally get the chance to meet," she said.

Adrian didn’t respond. He simply looked at her in silence, waiting for her to continue.

The woman maintained her smile.

"Your father has told me a lot about you," she said with a gentle smile. "He mentioned that you’ve been struggling to find the right woman to settle down with. As a mother, I understand how painful that must be. It’s so difficult these days to find a good, respectful woman with strong family values who would make a wonderful wife. That’s why I invited the minister’s daughter today."

She gestured gracefully toward the elegantly dressed young woman seated across the table.

"I thought the two of you might get along. And if things go well, perhaps we can start planning your wedding soon, just like we did for Maya."

Adrian looked at her in complete disbelief.

He was genuinely stunned by the sheer audacity of a woman he had only just met calling him son and speaking as though she had any right to arrange his future.

He didn’t let her say another word.

"First of all," Adrian began calmly, "I appreciate your concern. It almost sounded as though it came from a real mother."

He paused, his gaze locking onto hers.

"Almost."

The smile on the woman’s face faltered.

Adrian continued, his voice clear enough for everyone at the table to hear.

"For the record, I’m neither single nor looking for a partner."

His father slammed a hand against the table.

"Adrian!"

Adrian didn’t even spare him a glance.

"And secondly," he continued, "I don’t date women anymore."

His eyes briefly shifted toward the minister’s daughter.

"With all due respect, this young lady deserves someone who can genuinely love her. That person isn’t me."

He turned back to his father and stepmother.

"I have a boyfriend. I love him, and he is my partner. Your husband already knows that, so I’m struggling to understand why either of you thought this was appropriate."

Adrian’s expression hardened.

"I don’t recall ever asking anyone to find me a partner, and I certainly don’t appreciate anyone trying to arrange one for me."

He glanced briefly at the two young boys seated nearby before looking back at his father.

"If the two of you are so eager to arrange marriages, then perhaps you can wait until your own sons are old enough."

His voice remained calm but unwavering.

"As for me... I’m already taken."

Meanwhile, back at the VIP table, Leah slipped into the empty chair Adrian had occupied just moments earlier.

She offered a warm, polite smile as she looked across the table.

"Hi, Matteo."