Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147: "Shut Up"

Aren blinked slowly, struggling to gather her thoughts.

The fever still burned relentlessly through her body, clouding her mind, yet fragments of what had happened beneath the maze remained startlingly vivid in her memory.

She remembered everything.

Turning her gaze toward Jordan, she searched his face anxiously.

"...Jordan, did we... did we..."

"We did!" he answered at once, nodding even more vigorously than before. "I got both of our coins, Ariana! I already submitted them!"

A faint smile touched Aren’s lips.

’Ah... thank you, God.’

’Then all of my effort... Jordan’s... Lady Rosalia’s... none of it was wasted.’

She gave the smallest nod, her eyelids drifting shut once more as a quiet wave of relief and happiness settled over her.

Beside her, however, Caio looked far more troubled than relieved.

"...Hey," he murmured, his voice gentle despite the concern etched across his face. "You still have the energy to worry about some coins? You’re burning up with a fever."

Aren slowly turned toward him, and despite the pallor draining every trace of color from her face, her smile blossomed into something so bright it caught him completely off guard.

"D-Don Caio..." she whispered weakly. "I... I made it. I made it to the last round."

For a moment, Caio didn’t know whether to sigh or frown.

She was burning like a furnace, barely capable of keeping her eyes open, yet she smiled with such innocent delight that he found himself momentarily robbed of words.

"...Yes," he said quietly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against her forehead. "You made it."

His expression softened even further.

"But now you’re going to rest. No more competing."

Jordan nodded repeatedly. Much as he hated agreeing with the man standing opposite him — and even more so seeing that kiss — he couldn’t argue with that.

"He’s right, Ariana. You need to rest."

At that moment, Gian hurried over, nearly throwing himself toward the stretcher.

"Ariana!" the elderly Don exclaimed. "My God, you’re awake! What happened to you down there? You’re completely soaked!"

Jordan quietly stepped aside to make room for him. Gian immediately clasped his daughter’s freezing hand between both of his, visibly startled by how cold it felt — like the hand of a corpse.

Yet despite her alarming condition, the instant Aren saw him, she somehow looked even more awake. Her entire face lit up with a joy utterly at odds with her ghostly complexion.

"Ah... Father!" she said happily. "I...I made it through the second round. I get to fight in the last round now! Y-you and everyone in the House... you don’t have to wait anymore! You’ll finally get to watch me compete!"

The remaining Dons arrived just in time to hear her declaration.

Giovanni’s brow furrowed deeply.

"Oh dear, Lady Ariana. You’re in this condition, and you’re still thinking about competing? Have some mercy on your poor father."

Eduardo, by contrast, remained composed.

"Are you certain your condition is suitable for continuing into the final round?" he asked evenly, his concern focused solely on the competition itself.

To everyone’s surprise, Aren somehow brightened even more, as though she had been waiting for someone to ask that exact question.

"Ah, yes! Of course!" she replied earnestly. "I’m completely certain I’m fit for the final round."

She even tried to push herself upright, startling everyone gathered around the stretcher.

"Just... just give me a fever reducer and a stimulant," she said, as though asking for candy. "Anything that’ll keep me on my feet."

For five long seconds, every man surrounding the stretcher stared at her, wondering whether the fever had somehow altered the chemistry of her brain.

Then—

"NO!"

Three voices rang out in perfect unison.

"Absolutely not!" Caio snapped. "You are not forcing yourself through this with a couple of injections. End of discussion!"

"Listen to him, Ariana!" Gian pleaded, his voice cracking with panic. "I won’t allow you to gamble with your life like this!"

"It’s truly not worth it, I’ve tried it before," Jordan protested, his expression tightening at the memory. "You’ll get twenty, maybe thirty minutes where you feel fine, but once it wears off, your body’s going to crash harder than concrete."

Suddenly, one of the nearby medics — who had earlier been shoved aside rather mercilessly — raised a timid hand.

"Um... excuse me, Young Boss, but the stimulant we gave you back then was an older formulation." He scratched his cheek sheepishly. "We’ve upgraded our medical kit since then. The new heavy-duty injections are much better. Far fewer side effects."

At once, three heads whipped toward him.

"SHUT UP!"

The poor medic flinched so violently he nearly dropped his medical case. Muttering a frightened apology, the unfortunate man hurriedly retreated behind the rest of the medical team.

Aren smiled awkwardly at the three stubborn men.

Despite the haze of fever clouding her thoughts, her mind continued searching relentlessly for a way through the situation.

’Oh dear... how do I convince them?’

’I don’t feel comfortable letting Jordan face the final round alone.’

’I still don’t know whether Nazario and Natalia have another vicious plan waiting for him that I never managed to uncover.’

’I’d better enter the final round with him.’

’And...’

The corners of her lips curved ever so slightly.

’...I’ve still got the last part of my plan to carry out.’

With that firmly in mind, she drew a slow breath before speaking as gently as she could.

"...I... I know all of you are worried about me. And... thank you for that. Truly..."

Her gaze moved from Caio to Jordan, then finally settled on Gian.

"...But... if I withdraw now... everything I achieved in the first and second rounds becomes meaningless. I don’t want to fight through all of that only to stop one step before the finish line."

Her voice grew quieter, but no less resolute.

"I’d regret it... a great deal."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify