《ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond》


 Chapter 1: ★WORTHLESS★

    Chapter 1: ¡ïWORTHLESS¡ï


    ~Chapter 1~


    Worthless!


    Weak!


    Useless!


    Murderer!


    No....no..no..not those words again, I cowered in a corner, making myself as small as possible, while the man who was supposed to love and protect me, stood before me with so much hate in his eyes.


    "You''re so much like your mother, weak and useless" those damned words, the same words I had heard a million times but I still flinch whenever he said them.


    Stupid.... stupid..... stupid.


    My father -Boris Volkov- was as heartless as they come. He had no qualms about using his words to cut me down. You would think being an only child and daughter to someone would be the dream but for me, ohh it was a never-ending cycle of pain and nightmares.


    Why was I being treated like this? Well My mother died while giving birth to me, and every day I wished I had died with her.


    It was a crazy thing to say or even think, but it was true and I couldn''t shake it off because of my father.


    Was I a killer, No, but he always reminded me that I was a Murderer, calling my mom weak for dying and blaming me because I looked so much like her.


    Having only see one picture of her, that I had stumbled upon when I was ten years old, I knew without being told she was my mom.


    I had been both fascinated and intimidated by that picture; She had bright golden eyes and curly snow-white hair.


    I was a miniature version of her, but it was bullshit, having it both, was a blessing and a curse, it became a constant reminder to my father of the woman he had lost.


    To him, my resemblance to my dead mom was a cruel joke, he couldn''t bear to look at me, couldn''t bear to see the features of the woman he loved staring back at him through my face.


    So, he took it out on me, using me as a punching bag for his own fucked up emotions


    A hot slap brought me back to reality, and I held my already bruised cheek, wincing in pain. I wasn''t shocked, ¨C this was my everyday life. Kicked, thrown, and insulted.


    I''m used to it, the feeling of being helpless and alone.


    "You worthless bitch," my father spat, dragging me by my hair, pulling me across the room with a strength that fitted his age.


    Struggling against him, he threw me against the wall, and I hit it with a thud.


    That hurts so much. I slid down to the floor with my head spinning and my body aching all over.


    Fear and intimidation had become a constant presence in my life, and I had learned to keep my mouth shut and my questions to myself, never knowing when my father''s temper would flare up or when his "business associates" would come knocking on our door.


    A bullet whizzed past me, making me duck for cover behind the shattered remains of the doorframe.


    That was freaking close, I didn''t know what to do, never being in this situation before.


    Should I hide and wait for this sudden violence to pass, or was this my chance to finally run away from my father? Was God finally answering my prayers and giving me an opportunity to escape the hellish existence I had endured for so long?


    Peeked around the doorframe again, I saw my father''s men returning fire, but they were outnumbered.


    I had to act quickly and make a decision.


    I could stay here, cowering in fear, like always, or I could take this chance and try to escape.


    The thought of leaving that animal grasp was exhilarating, but it was also terrifying. What if I couldn''t make it on my own? Or worse, I get caught? But despite my reservations and the what if , I had to try, right?


    Taking a deep breath, I peered around the corner, and saw my chance. The hallway was now clear, alongside the stairs leading down to the front door.


    It was now or never.


    I took off in a sprint, didn''t dare look back, fearing what I might see. My heart hammering in my chest, threatening to burst free from my ribcage.


    Finally, everything would be alright, I''m going to be free, for so long, being a twenty year old trapped rat was hard.


    But as I took the last step that would lead to my freedom, a figure strode through the front door like he owned the damned place. He was dressed to perfection, his tailored suit accentuating his lean, athletic build.


    His piercing eyes bore down into my very soul as he stopped in front of me.


    Blocking my freedom, fuck!!!


    He lazily held a gun in one hand and in the other hand, he grasped a lit cigarette, but that was not what truly caught my attention; it was his face.


    You need to see this.


    Half of it was covered with a slick black mask that seemed to be molded to his flesh. The other half, however, ohhh the other half was breathtakingly beautiful.


    Chiseled features, dark gray eyes, and a strong jawline all combined to create a face that was both captivating and terrifying. Damn


    For a moment, we simply stared at each other, the only sound my heavy breathing and the distant gunfire. Then, in a movement that was both fluid and menacing, he raised his gun and pointed it directly at my head.


    What did I do?!!!!


    I was facing my death, through and through.

 Chapter 2: ★THE BEST FATHER★

    Chapter 2: ¡ïTHE BEST FATHER¡ï


    ~Chapter 2~


    With the gun still pointed at my head, I watched as he slowly took a long drag of his cigarette and when he exhaled, he drawled out a question.


    "Kid or prostituta?" His rich Italian accent was rough around the edges.


    I understand the first part but the second word sounded unmistakably like "prostitute". My mind recoiled in horror at what he was asking. Was I a kid, or was I a prostitute?@@@@


    Who ask this kind of questions?!!


    I tried to answer his question, but it seemed I had taken a lot of time as a gunshot rang near my ear. My eyes got wide, seeing how close the shot had been.


    I don''t wanna die, I''m harmless, can''t he see?, I stared at he''s indifferent face, expecting to see some reaction or emotion.


    He didn''t even flinch or blink. He just stood there, his gun still trained on me and his eyes boring into mine.


    "I''m... I''m..."


    "Boss." A voice from the hallway interrupted my stammering words.


    The masked man tilted his head slightly to the side, but his eyes never left mine, leave me alone. "Si??(Yes)" he replied.


    And the voice spoke again but in rapid Italian. "E? la figlia del bastardo e abbiamo invaso con successo. Boris e? legato. (she''s the daughter of the bastard and we have successfully invaded, Boris is tied up)"


    I couldn''t understand a word of what was being said, except for one. "Boris." My father''s name which still sent a shiver down my spine.


    "I see," the masked man said before he walked closer to me and pressed his gun directly on my head.


    Mom, I''m finally going to me you, hope you remember me.


    My eyes closed on their own in fear, paralyzed with terror, "Turn around," he growled.


    I didn''t need to be told twice, quickly turning around, facing the stairs and my legs began to move on their own, carrying me upward. The masked man followed closely behind me.


    And as we reached the top of the stairs, I was met with a sight: the hallway was littered with dead bodies, some of them belonging to the masked man''s cohorts, but most of them were my father''s men.


    The gun pressed against my head, urged me forward, and I continued my walk, trying not to look at the bodies, but why are they so many.


    We turned a corner, with two men standing guard outside my father''s study. It was a room I had never been allowed to enter, a place where my father conducted his most private and secretive business.


    The two men spotted us and bowed slightly while opening the door. "Don," they respectfully said in unison, and I assumed they were addressing the masked man, ''cause who else? The title suited him, and I found myself thinking of him as the Don.


    But the Don''s patience had finally dried up as he pushed me forward, sending me crashing to the ground.


    Nice, what a gentleman. I landed hard on the polished wood floor, my eyes spinning . I struggled and got my balance back and I looked up to see him striding past me with his eyes now fixed on my father, who was tied up to a chair.


    But my father remained silent, his jaws clenched shut in a futile attempt to defy the man before him.


    The hot rod began to slowly press against his face, and his scream was like a raw, animalistic sound, and it was heart-wrenching to watch.


    It was like nothing I''d ever heard before.


    The hot rod was mercilessly swung down again, to his face and I didn''t know when a scream left my lips.


    The Don''s eyes moved to me, while my father groaned in pain.


    Oh no, what have I gotten myself into, why couldn''t I just shut up. I said to myself, fear creeping in as he move away from my father''s side and walk towards me.


    The wall should just melt and swallow me whole, hide me from his menacing presence, as he loomed over me.


    "This your daughter, si??" I glanced over to my father, feeling a pang of pity for him, despite all the things he had done to me. His jaw was broken, and he couldn''t speak well, his words slurred and indistinct.


    I saw the pain and I forgot about all the hurt he had caused me. He was my father, after all, and seeing him like this was almost too much to bear.


    "Akh," Fingers dug into my cheek and he suddenly held my face closer to him, his breath hot against my skin before he muttered words that no one would want to hear.


    "She''s a beauty, We could get a good price off her"


    Now I really want the wall to open, Was he going to take me and sell my body? Was I going to be taken from one hell to another?.


    His grip on my cheek relaxed, and he stood up straight. He moved towards the door, it looked like he was done with my father. But before he passed through it, he called back to Mr tattoo, who was standing at the corner.


    "Take her to the car," he ordered, his eyes flicking to me before going to the my father "And old man, tell my parents I said... Hi."


    It was a mocking farewell and with that, he threw the rod at my father''s face, making a sickening crunch.


    My father''s head snapped back and he finally walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the tattoo man.


    Mr. tattoo walked over to me and grasped my arm, harshly dragging me up and away from the safety of the wall.


    I looked over to my father, expecting to see him show some empathy or concern for my well-being.


    But what I saw was him sitting there, his broken face, jaw, and burnt skin a testament to the brutality he had endured. And yet, despite all that, he was smiling.


    What the hell!!


    It was a faint, twisted smile, but it was unmistakable, it looked like he was telling me I was doomed. And in that moment, I realized I didn''t have a father, he wasn''t my father and all the pity I had for him vanished.


    Even if my situation would be much worse than his. Even if I was the one who was going to be taken away, sold into a life of slavery and abuse. My father''s face was not one I would ever wish to see again.


    Literally, THE BEST FATHER.....

 Chapter 3: ★ESCAPE★

    Chapter 3: ¡ïESCAPE¡ï


    ~Chapter 3~


    I struggle against him, harshly but he kept dragging me down the stairs. Some of their men were pouring liquid all over the place.


    The smell of gasoline was everywhere, Were they about to burn down our house, but -wait- my father was still alive inside. Was he going to be burnt to death?


    I didn''t want to care, and I definitely didn''t want to feel any pity for the man who had caused me so much pain. But it was hard.


    It was so hard to shake off this feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach.


    I was dragged forward till we emerged out our front door and into the cool night air.


    Sleek black SUV cars lined up our front yard, gleaming in the moonlight.


    His hand was rough on my skin as he walked over to one of the cars and pushed me into the back seat.


    Landing hard on the leather seat, almost hitting my head on the opposite car door, but managed to avoid it by mere inches.


    The front car door opened, then it shut loudly. I looked up to see him sitting in the passenger seat before my gaze shifted to the driver''s seat, where a man was sat with his back to me. I couldn''t really see his face, it was shrouded in shadows.


    The car began to move smoothly out from the curb, and I shifted slowly to the car door, my mind already moving with thoughts of my escape.


    I could jump out the car as it''s moving, they didn''t even tie me up, which looked like a mistake, or was I less of a captive than I thought?@@@@


    Do not underestimate me,I glanced to the front, but they seemed oblivious to my presence, their eyes fixed on the road ahead.


    Looking out the window, I saw our house getting burnt to the ground, with flames the licking out the windows and smoke billowing into the night air.


    It was a miserable existence, one that I had been forced to survive on.


    But even at that, I knew better than to ask or speak now. My eyes were dropping but I glanced over to the front seat and tried one last time, coming up with a new escape plan, maybe this one might just work.


    I cleared my throat, but my voice was so small, having not been using it.


    "Um...um..." I thought he wouldn''t even hear it.


    But to my surprise, he turned his face around, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me. "What?" he was impatient and I swallowed hard, trying to think fast.


    I swished my thighs together, acting like I was pressed to urinate. Maybe, just maybe, they would stop the car, and I could make a run for it. It was a long shot and a stupid plan, but it was worth a try.


    "I...I need to pee," I sounded as pitiful as possible.


    Mr. Tattoo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my request.


    "No." The answer was as expected, but I shook my head, refusing to give up. "Please," I begged.


    "I really need to go." He snorted, turning back to face front, unmoved by my plea.


    I decided to do it, yeah I''ll do it, I started to cry, letting out a pitiful wail. I didn''t remember the last time I had cried in front of someone; I always cried myself to sleep, but not when someone was around.


    I sobbed like a child, hoping that he would take pity on me; maybe he would see me as a vulnerable girl who just needed to use the restroom. I didn''t care if it made me look weak, I just wanted to escape.


    After some minutes of crying, my tears were running dry as it was a fabricated display of emotion, but to my greatest surprise, the driver, who had been quietly driving, spoke up. "Lasciala andare a fare pipi?..." (Let her go pee...). he said them in Italian and I didn''t understand the words, but his tone sounded gentle.


    I saw how Mr. Tattoo''s head snapped to the driver, his expression disapproving., "Il Don non sara? contento di questo" (The Don won''t like this). His words laced with a warning, and the driver''s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, meeting mine for a brief moment before returning to the road.


    I''m cooked, right?

 Chapter 4: ★FREEDOM★

    Chapter 4: ¡ïFREEDOM¡ï


    ~Chapter 4~


    We were now in a dense forest, with trees towering above us like giants. The car slowly came to a stop at the side of the road. Mr. Tattoo harshly stepped out and walked over to my door side.


    He pulled it open. "Get down," I looked over to the driver, wondering what was going on. Were they going to kill me?, cause I didn''t understand a word they had said, so it might be a possibility.


    This was a secluded area, far from prying eyes. If they wanted to get rid of me, this was the perfect place to do it.


    And If I was to disappear, I bet no one would notice. I had no friends and no family remaining...well, if my father isn''t dead yet, but he too wouldn''t care.


    The sadness of it was overwhelming and painfully true.


    An impatient voice cut through my thoughts, as Mr Tattoo repeated"Get down, now," pulling me out of the car.


    My bare feet stumbling over roots and fallen branches, littered over the uneven ground. His tight grip was the only thing that kept me upright.


    Moving deeper into the forest, the silence between us was oppressive. He''s eyes were trained on me, boring into my skin, making me shiver, despite the fact it wasn''t that cold.@@@@


    He tugged me forward to a towering tree. "Pee," he snapped, his eyes fixed on me.


    My face burned with humiliation as I held my ragged gown, looking over to the car, which was now at a distance away, but not so far that I couldn''t see their other sleek SUVs moving past it.


    "Umm...can you turn around?" I stammered to him, wanting to salvage the little dignity I had left.


    My pounding heart stopped beatting but as the echo faded away, I noticed something - the shot wasn''t aimed at me. It sounded like he had deliberately shot towards the sky, perhaps to scare me or to intimidate me into surrendering.


    The realization didn''t bring me much comfort, though, because it only served as a reminder of the danger that lurked behind me.


    I began running, harder than before, changing directions, darting between the trees, not wanting him to quickly spot me out.


    The forest was dense, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. But having spent most of my time locked up in a dark basement, I had developed a peculiar kind of adaptability. My senses had grown more acute, more attuned to the subtlest sounds and movements.


    I could hear the rustling of leaves, could feel the forest soil beneath my feet.


    My life with my father was hell, the endless beatings, the constant belittling and the feeling of being trapped and helpless.


    I thought about how I had finally escaped, finally gotten some freedom, only to find myself in an even more precarious situation but I refused to give up.


    It was a strange kind of freedom, but it was freedom nonetheless.


    I gritted my teeth, I was going to hold onto this freedom, no matter what.


    No one and I mean no one else will take away my freedom or take me to their boss or whatever he was, to sell my body to the highest bidder.


    The thought was revulseful and I dug deep, finding a reservoir of strength I didn''t know I possessed.


    "Ahhh!" cried out in pain as my hair was suddenly yanked backwards with such force that made me stumbled and almost fell.


    Just as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. "Got you," his voice was hot against my ear.

 Chapter 5: ★UNFORGIVING★

    Chapter 5: ¡ïUNFORGIVING¡ï


    ~Chapter 5~


    "Got you," He sneered, while I quickly brought my hand up to his that was dragging my hair, trying to pry his fingers loose.


    But he pushed me hard to the ground, falling face first. Ouch.


    I struggled to get my footing, and instantly, I''m being picked back up, a hard slap sent straight to my face.


    The force of the blow sent me crashing to the ground again, my head spinning.


    "Get up!" Mr. Tattoo shouted, making me flinch. Slowly, I struggled to my knees, my eyes frantically scanning the surrounding area for something, anything that could help me defend myself.


    My face was on fire with so much pain, a lump already forming on my cheek where that hard slap was throw at me.


    Wildly feeling the rough forest, My hands were moving around, searching for a rock, a stick, or anything that could be used as a weapon.


    And then, my fingers closed around something - a branch, about the size of my forearm, lying on the ground. Quickly, I gripped it tightly, fear and adrenaline pumping in my vain.


    I was not going to go down without a fight.


    "I said get the fuck up!" Mr. Tattoo exclaimed, dragging me back up again.


    But this time, he didn''t expect a hard blow to his head with my sweet branch. I swung it with all my might, hearing the satisfying crunch of wood against bone.@@@@


    His tight grip on me loosened, and I used the opportunity to give another blow, aiming for harder this time and he grunted in pain.


    Not wasting any time, spinning around and running like my life depended on it - which it did. The moment Mr. Tattoo regained his composure, I was dead.


    He roared behind me, giving chase. I ran as fast as my skinny legs could, my lungs burning.


    I would feel a whole lot safer if the car wasn''t tinted, if I could see the face of the driver and gauge their intentions.


    Trying to flagged down other cars, waving my arms wildly, and shouting for help. But none of them paid attention to me, or maybe they just didn''t care.


    They whizzed by, one after another, leaving me feeling more and more desperate.


    I was starting to lose hope, wondering if anyone would ever stop to help me when I spotted Mr. Tattoo and some other men coming out of a car parked by the side of the road.


    Mr. Tattoo''s eyes were on me as he raised his gun and shot straight at me, but just as the bullet was about to hit me, a car passed by and took the hit instead. The sound of glass shattering was heard.


    Without hesitation, I used the distraction to run as fast as I could down the road, but the car that Mr. Tattoo and his men had emerged from began to chase me hard.


    It wasn''t too long before I was cornered, the car blocking my path in front of me, while Mr. Tattoo and his men closed in on me from every angle, blocking every escape route I had.


    I spotted some civilian cars that had stopped at a distance, with their occupants watching the scene unfold. But none of them got out of their cars to help me; they just sat there in their seats, watching me like I was some spectacle.


    Some even had their phones out, recording the scene.


    I watched in dread as Mr. Tattoo walked closer to me, his eyes blazing with fury and his face had a few streaks of blood trailing down from the side of his head, where I had used the branch to hit him in the forest.


    I remembered the branch I had used and a small spark of satisfaction flared up within me. But it was quickly extinguished by the realization that I was now at his mercy.


    Fuck!!


    "I would so much enjoy killing you," Mr. Tattoo''s sadistic voice said before something hard struck me at the back of my head.


    The impact was tremendous, and I felt my brain rattling inside my skull. Everything went dark, and I was knocked out cold, instantly.


    My last thought was how my life was a freaking mess and unforgiving.

 Chapter 6: ★WHY★

    Chapter 6: ¡ïWHY¡ï


    ~Chapter 6~


    A throbbing pain at the back of my head greeted me, I slowly faded back into consciousness.


    My head feels like it had been split open, making me light headed.


    shakeningly, I raise a hand to the back of my head. My fingers encountering a sticky, drying substance. Blood, it has to be.


    I gingerly explored the wound, trying to assess the damage. A bump was already rising, making the pain pulse with every beat of my heart.@@@@


    The tenderness made me hiss, and I withdrew my hand, not wanting to exacerbate the injury.


    Slowly, my eyes open and groggily took in the surroundings. I''m in a dark room room, all by myself, the only light coming from a sliver of sun peeking through a small window at the side.


    I was lying on a bed that wasn''t particularly comfortable, but it was far better than the makeshift pallets I was used to in the place I had called home all my life.


    Struggling with all my might to sit up but waves of dizziness washed over me, forcing me to lie back down.


    I closed my eyes and fragments of memories flashed through my mind - Explosion, The don, Mr. Tattoo, the chase... But everything was hazy.


    I was caught. I''m so weak, so useless, so worthless, you couldn''t do anything, very stupid.


    No, stop, stop stop, my eyes snapped, looking at the surroundings.


    My throat was parched, feeling like the Sahara desert, and my stomach growled with hunger, protesting the emptiness that had been gnawing at me for who-knew-how-long.


    But before I could even think about my physical needs, the sound of the door opening was heard and the room was suddenly bathed in bright light.


    I had to close my eyes quickly to avoid being blinded. I slowly opened them again and that''s when I saw him - Mr. Tattoo.


    And now, to top it all off, someone was trying to rape me. Me....Was I that bad in my previous life? Had I done something so terrible that I deserved this kind of suffering?


    Tears pooled around my eyes, blurring my vision, flowing down my cheeks in hot streams. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, but they kept coming.


    Why me? Why was this happening to me? I didn''t deserve a life like this. I didn''t deserve to be hurt and abused and terrorized.


    I didn''t deserve any of this. The depressing thoughts swirled around my head But my momentum was abruptly halted as I collided with something solid.


    I fell straight onto my butt, the impact jarring my bones.


    Dazed, I looked back up to see what I had jammed into and when I saw him.


    The masked man.


    The Don.


    He was standing there, unmoved, like I hadn''t just collided with him. A cigarette dangled from his lips while one hand was casually tucked into his pocket and the other hung loose by his side, relaxed, yet radiating an aura of quiet power.


    His stormy gray eyes bored into my very soul, as if searching for something hidden deep within me.


    One of his eyebrows slowly raised upwards, a subtle, inquiring gesture, hopefully asking me what on earth I was doing, naked.


    "Boss" A voice called out and I looked over to see Mr. Tattoo bowing slightly before marching over to me.


    "Stupid bitch," Mr. Tattoo spat, throwing a stinging slap to my face, the impact sending shockwaves throughout my skull.


    My cheek throbbed and my eyes watered with the pain while he dragged me up.


    He didn''t seem to care. He just kept pulling me, his fingers digging deep into my skin. The Don, too didn''t look concerned as he just stood there watching, his expression unreadable.


    My eyes darkened, no one cares, everyone is so selfish, this world is messed up but I would rather die than get raped.

 Chapter 7: ★THREE★

    Chapter 7: ¡ïTHREE¡ï


    ~Chapter 7~


    ROMEO


    Sitting in my home study on the top floor, surrounded by the trappings of my success. I leaned back into my leather chair, slowly taking a long drag on my cigarette, while scanning the contract proposal in front of me.@@@@


    The smoke curled lazily upwards, carrying the tension in my shoulders away with it.


    Running a multimillion-dollar company was no joke, and every decision I made had far-reaching consequences that could make or break empires. It was a burden I''d grown accustomed to carrying.


    "Mr. Salvatore," The man before me said with caution and respect, his voice trembling slightly.


    Since the moment he sat down, he''d been shaking uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal.


    I didn''t look threatening, dressed in my tailored suit; my half-covered face was a mask of calm interest.


    Yet, it seemed my popular reputation had preceded me. The man must have forgotten we were discussing a business proposal, not exchanging gunfire, which would have been my favorite.


    I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his nervousness "Si?" I dropped the paper I''d been studying and looked over to him.


    My voice was low and even, a reminder that I was in control here. The man swallowed hard, his eyes moving onto mine before darting away, he didn''t dare look me straight in the eyes. No one dares.


    "What seems to be the problem, Mr. James?" I asked, steepling my fingers together on the table.


    He didn''t want to articulate whatever was on his mind after bringing my attention to him.


    "I...I was saying that if this isn''t up to your taste, we could make a new one," Mr. James stuttered out in a rush.


    "We really need this contract, sir and I promise to make it right. We''ll do whatever it takes to ensure your satisfaction, Mr. Salvatore." His voice trailed off, and he looked down at his feet, awaiting my response, the same process every damned time, everyone wants to please me.


    I studied him, intrigued by his fear. "Why do you shake, too much?" I asked with amusement.


    I took another slow drag from my cigarette, savoring the moment. I had all the time in the world to play with his mind, to toy with his fears and anxieties.


    They went about their task of cleaning up the lifeless body with an emotionless face. I didn''t bother to watch as I needed to clear my head and for me, that meant descending into the depths of my torture room.


    It was a place where I could let my true nature shine. A place where the mask of civility could slip and the beast beneath could roam free.


    The torture room was my sanctuary, my confessional, and my playground.


    I stepped into the elevator and lit a new cigarette as I waited for the elevator to reach the basement.


    The elevator doors slid open, revealing the dimly lit corridor that led to my inner sanctum. I stepped out, ready to unleash my demons and let the darkness consume me whole.


    I walked further into the hallway before turning a corner, my eyes adjusting to the dimness, and that''s when I saw her - a skinny frame, barely visible in the faint light.


    The pale little girl collided with me with a soft thud, but I stood tall and unmoved, watching as her dirty body crumpled to the ground.


    Her skin was deathly pale, and her pure but dirty white hair seemed to swallow the faint light around her.


    She reminded me of a fragile, broken doll, that was discarded and forgotten.


    I had seen her before, just yesterday. She was the daughter of that insolent bastard I had killed. I recalled giving Dante instructions to take her, but I had totally forgotten about her existence until now.


    My gaze roamed over her fragile form, and my eyes narrowed. What the hell was she wearing? A dirty bra and underwear were all that covered her emaciated body.


    A wave of disgust washed over me, looking at the dirty little being before a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Boss?" Dante''s voice and I turned to see him running towards me. He bowed his head slightly before storming towards the girl.


    He picked her up harshly, "Stupid bitch," He threw a slap to her face, and I watched as she winced, her eyes welling up with tears while she struggled.


    Her teary golden eyes locked onto mine, filled with -what-I chuckled; it was filled with a desperate plea for help.


    I tilted my head to the side, a cold grin spreading across my face, who the fuck did she think I was -her savior-.


    But then, her eyes hardened before she spoke, barely above a whisper. "I''d rather die than be raped."


    Something within me snapped and I didn''t know when my gun got out of my holster, but suddenly it was in my hand.


    My finger tightened around the trigger, and I shot three times.

 Chapter 8: ★WHITE★

    Chapter 8: ¡ïWHITE¡ï


    ~Chapter 8~


    Eyes widening in terror as I saw him swiftly raising his gun, shot three times without flinching, the bullets whizzing towards me.


    I closed my eyes, bracing for the impact. If I was to die, let it be quick but the expected pain never came.


    Instead, I felt the tight grip on me relax, and I was released from Mr tattoo grasp. a thud was heard, like a body falling to the ground, slowly my eyes fluttered open.


    The don stood where he was with his eyes glazed over, frozen in a trance-like state. He was looking like he was in shock or unconscious.


    My gaze drifted downward, Mr. Tattoo lies on the ground; three bullet holes marred his forehead, each wound a testament to the don''s deadly accuracy.


    Blood flowed from the wounds, pooling on the floor. Some of it had trickled near my bare feet, and I quickly stepped back, revulsion washing over me.


    My breathing quickened, gazing at the corpse. I had never seen a dead body up close before, and this...this was insane.


    Why, why had he killed his own man, what''s happening, The don seemed to finally come back to himself, as he took in the scene before him.


    He looked over to me and I saw a flicker of something there, something that looked almost like a crazed animal.


    He walked towards me, but I quickly pushed myself backward, desperate to create some distance between us.


    I don''t feel safe, not with the way he was looking at me. he''s looking like a mad man, don''t come close.


    His hand shot out and grabbed mine in a harsh, crushing grip.


    It was far more painful than Mr. Tattoo''s rough man handling and I started to say, "Let me¡ª"


    Panic set in, making me frantically search for something to cover myself with, but there was nothing in the elevator. No clothes, no towels, nothing.


    The don, however, looked completely unfazed by my state of undress. I looked away, focusing on the elevator doors, trying to distract myself from my embarrassment.


    My mind began to wander, thinking of ways to escape, I hadn''t forgotten my resolve to break free, no matter the cost.


    The elevator doors slid open, and he grabbed my hand again harshly; what I saw was a dark hallway, but as we stepped out of the elevator, everywhere lit up, and I looked in wonder.


    The hallway was transformed, revealing a lavish corridor lined with black polished floors, high crystal chandeliers, and intricate gold adorning the black-colored walls.


    Glanced around, expecting to see servants or maybe guards, but there was no one in sight and I wondered if he lived alone.


    Yet, the condition of the house suggested otherwise. Every surface and corner was polished. Who took care of this place because the level of cleanliness and attention to detail suggested a team of diligent staff, but where were they? The silence was unnerving.


    He continued to drag me down the hallway, my gaze looking at everything before falling upon a large, covered frame on the wall. It looked like a picture, but a piece of fabric draped over it, concealing the image beneath.


    My curiosity piqued, not knowing if it was a portrait, or something else.


    But before I could ponder further, the don opened a door and pushed me into the room.


    My weak legs stumbled from hunger and exhaustion, making me fall to the ground.


    Everything was white - the walls, the furniture, even the carpet. The space was so pristine and so devoid of color.


    I looked up to him, walking into the room with an air of confidence after shutting the door behind him.


    He strode over to a plush white couch and sat down. He looked like a king claiming his throne. I, on the other hand, felt, what was I saying I looked like a peasant, discarded and insignificant.


    My dirty white hair and dull golden eyes looked like a lackluster in this sea of all these pristine white.

 Chapter 9: ★MISTAKES★

    Chapter 9: ¡ïMISTAKES¡ï


    ~Chapter 9~


    "Where''s Ivan?" he said calmly. I trembled, unsure of who this Ivan was or why he was so important.


    "I don''t know," I quickly stammered, remembering how he almost shot me dead for not answering him quickly, but my words only seemed to enrage him further.@@@@


    His eyes darkened but he didn''t change his posture nor did he show another emotion apart for the calm and collected face.


    He settled back into the couch, steepling his fingers together in a gesture that looked almost...reverent.


    I swallowed hard, the air growing colder as he spoke calmly.


    "I expect you to know something about your father''s dealings. After all, you''re his daughter. His only child."


    He stopped talking and stared at me with cold eyes. "Now, tell me what you know about Ivan." I sharply shook my head, trying to convince him. "I swear, I don''t know anything."


    His calm demeanor was freaking me out. Why wasn''t he angry? Why wasn''t he yelling? The silence was deafening, and I felt like I was drowning in his unblinking gaze.


    His face didn''t change, but I felt a very bad feeling inside. "Pick up the gun." he tilted his head and my eyes followed to look over to the gun resting on the side table.


    I turned back to him, shaking my head. "Please¡ª"


    "Don''t make me repeat myself," he growled, I quickly scrambled with my knees, my hands shaking as I grasped the gun.


    The cold metal felt foreign in my hands, I had never held a gun before and i wondered if I''d be able to pull the trigger.


    My fingers trembled around the grip, making the gun shake like crazy. "What do you want me to do with it?" I whispered, tearing my eyes from the gun to looked at him.


    "What do you want to do with it?" he replied.


    I looked at him stunned, What if I wanted to shoot you? The thought flashed through my mind, but I didn''t dare say it out loud.


    Instead, I just looked at him with wide eyes, I didn''t know what to do, and his silence was unnerving.


    He looked like a man who didn''t waste words, who only spoke when necessary.


    I don''t know what happened next - it was like my body had developed a mind, it moved on its own. My fingers pressed the trigger, and a loud click echoed through the room.


    The gun was...EMPTY.


    clap clap clap, his reaction caught me off guard. He began to clap.


    Slowly he stood up from the couch and I staggered backwards, shaking my head frantically, speaking. "It was a mistake...I....I didn''t mean to pull the trigger. It just... happened."


    But the words rang hollow, even to my own ears. What if there had been a bullet in the gun? Would I have still claimed it was an accident?


    "Feisty," He stopped in front of me and opened one of his large palms, holding it out.


    I looked into it, expecting to see something, but it was empty. What did he want? I looked up to him, searching for answers, but his expression was unreadable.


    I looked down at the gun still shaking in my hand, not knowing what to do with it.


    Quickly, I dropped it into his outstretched palm,. He closed his fingers around it and raised the gun to my head.


    "Why don''t I try my own mistake, si?" Sarcasm dripped from his voice.


    I had confirmed the gun was empty, but having the cold metal pressed against my temple was not reassuring. I heard the gun clink, but it wasn''t the sound of the trigger being pulled.


    I saw his hand flicking a small lever on the side of the gun. I had no idea what it did, but it looked scary. He''s toying with me. I said to myself, trying to keep my emotions in check.


    He knew the gun was empty, but he was still using it to intimidate me.


    He looked me in the eyes and I stared right back but then he said "Bang!" and the gun went off.


    My ears rang with the gun had been fired mere inches from it. That was my death sentence, my calm expression quickly faded.


    But how was this possible? The gun wasn''t empty?


    I had fired it at him, even though it was a mistake but why didn''t it fire when I held it? Was it some kind of trick? I was bewildered and terrified.


    "Now, that was me confirming if a gun is loaded, let''s make a new mistake"

 Chapter 10: ★SLAVE★

    Chapter 10: ¡ïSLAVE¡ï


    ~Chapter 10~


    I stepped back until my back hit the wall. I was scared, feeling trapped, with no escape from his menacing gaze.


    I didn''t know what to do. He had a gun, and it was loaded. He already shot it near my ear and demonstrated his willingness to use it.


    My mind was jumbled, torn between trying to appear pitiful or standing my ground. Would pleading for mercy appeal to whatever humanity was left in him, or would it only make him more ruthless?


    On the other hand, showing braveness might provoke him further. One thing was certain: I had to convince him that I didn''t know anything about Ivan.


    That was the only answer that might spare my life. If I lie about knowing this Ivan''s whereabouts, I risk being dragged deeper into this nightmare.


    I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and to come up with something that would save my life.


    But my mind was blank.


    "How did you shoot the gun?" I asked. It was a stupid question, but it was all I could come up with.@@@@


    I didn''t know what to say, so maybe distracting him would work. It was a weak plan, but it was all I had.


    I silently cursed myself, "Damn, think of something better! Say something else!" But my mind was empty. I just stood there, staring at him.


    I watched him as he slowly raised his other hand and tightly grabbed my chin.


    He lifted it up, forcing me to look him straight in the eye.


    I felt a shiver run down my spine as we held contact, his eyes seemed to strip me bare, like he was searching for something - maybe to see if I was going to lie.


    "Where," he said low and slow, "is," he paused again, "Ivan?" He said each word clearly like he was trying to drill it into my brain.


    I didn''t fight the hand gripping my chin. I just shook my head slightly. "I don''t know who Ivan is," I whispered, hoping he''d believe me.


    But he didn''t.


    I was on the brink of unconsciousness, my vision fading to black, but still, he didn''t ease up.


    His fingers remained clenched around my throat, cutting me off.


    Just when it seemed like I was about to slip away, his fingers suddenly loosened, and I crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.


    I wheezed and coughed violently, my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.


    I tenderly smoothed my throat with my fingers, wincing at the pain. My throat was parched and sore, feeling like sandpaper.


    I desperately needed water to soothe the dryness, but even swallowing felt like a Herculean task.


    My throat was on fire, I couldn''t even speak; it was a struggle to make a sound. My eyes were surely red and full of tears, and I could feel them welling up again.


    Just then, I heard his voice, firm and commanding. "You would do whatever I say without a second thought. If I need you at night, day, or morning, you shall be available. No words." His shoes moved out of my vision, and I raised my head to see him walking towards the door.


    Was he done? Was this the end of the torment? I watched him, my eyes fixed on his back, hoping that he would just leave me alone. But deep down, I knew that this was only the beginning.


    He turned his head to me again, his eyes glinting with malice. "This shall be your room, White, like your dirty hair," he sneered, damn "but I don''t mind painting it red with your blood." He said that before walking out the door, leaving me shaken and terrified.


    The sound of the door closing behind him echoed through the room, making me feel trapped and helpless.


    The loud thud reverberated through my entire body. I felt like I was suffocating.


    I sat up slowly, leaning against the wall for support. My body ached all over. Every breath hurt, my sore throat and burning lungs protesting the effort. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but it felt like inhaling fire.


    The bruises were forming and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I thought about my life. It was a never-ending struggle. Every day, every moment, was a fight to survive.


    I let out a painful sigh; my life is a mess.


    ???


    Happy birthday to me

 Chapter 11: ★MOTHERLY★

    Chapter 11: ¡ïMOTHERLY¡ï


    ~Chapter 11~


    After several minutes of struggling to calm my racing heart, I carefully tried to pick myself up from the floor.


    Just as I was starting to gather my strength, a sudden knock at the door made me jump.


    My heart skipped a beat and I quickly turned to face the door. Was it him again? What did he want now? Fear gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe.


    I quickly looked around the room for a place to hide, but there was nowhere to go.


    The door creaked open, and a woman walked in. She looked to be in her 40s, with a kind face and a gentle smile.


    She was holding a stack of folded fabrics, possibly clothes, but I couldn''t see clearly. Her attire caught my attention - she was wearing a black-and-white typical maid''s uniform.


    She looked oblivious to my fear, or maybe she was just used to seeing people in distress.


    Her eyes scanned the room before her gaze landed on me, and she rushed over, concern etched on her face.


    "Oh, poor thing," she whispered, setting the folded clothes on the bed. "What did he do to you?" Her eyes were filled with kindness and concern.


    I just looked at her, still trying to process how my life was a mess. She gently helped me sit up well.


    Then helped me to my feet, supporting me as I swayed unsteadily. Slowly, she led me to the bed, where I collapsed onto the soft, white sheets, not caring if I stained them.


    The lady stood before me, her expression sympathetic. "I brought you your uniform. You can''t work...like that." She gestured to my dirty bra and underwear, her eyes avoiding mine out of modesty.


    I nodded, still struggling to speak. My throat felt like it was on fire. I swallowed hard, to form some words. "W-water," I rasped, my voice cracking.


    The lady''s face lit up with understanding. "Ahh, water, I''m coming," she said, rushing out of the room. My eyes followed her as she disappeared.


    While I waited, I looked over at the clothes she had dropped on the bed. I picked them up, feeling the soft fabric between my fingers.


    It was a gown, similar to the lady''s maid uniform, but with a slightly different design but I was too tired to care.


    Before I could examine the gown further, the door creaked open, and the woman returned with a tray. "I brought you some food too," she said, setting the tray on the bed beside me before picking up a cup and handing it to me.


    I took a sip of the water, feeling the cool liquid soothe my parched throat.


    I felt something stirred deep within me.


    It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling.


    Was this what they meant by motherly love? Was this how it felt to have a mom? My heart ached at the thought of not having a mom; if she was alive, maybe my life would have been good.


    I looked up at the lady as she carefully guided me towards a door and opened it, revealing a sparkling clean bathroom.


    The walls, the floor, the countertops, and even the bathtub were all a pristine shade of white.


    "Want me to bathe you or can you do that yourself?" she kindly asked me.


    I quickly shook my head; come on, I''m not so weak that I couldn''t even bathe myself!


    "I...I can do it myself," I croaked, my voice still rough from my sore throat.


    She looked like she was about to say something else but she stopped herself. "Alright, dear, if you need anything, I''m in the room," she reassured me before walking over to the bed and sitting down.


    She settled in, showing me that she wasn''t going anywhere.


    I walked into the bathroom quietly closed the door behind me, and leaned against it for a moment, taking in the peaceful atmosphere.


    I inhaled a deep breath, feeling gratitude towards this kind stranger


    The bathroom was equipped with all the modern amenities. A large, white-framed mirror hung above the sink and I walked towards it.


    I approached and my reflection stared back at me.


    I was so ugly. My dirty white hair was matted and sticking to my face, with all the tangled strands framing my abnormal pale skin.


    My eyes were red and puffy, with some tears still glistening on my stupidly long natural lashes.


    My cheek was bruised and swollen from Mr. Tattoo''s vicious slap, and one of my eyes was nearly shut with a huge swelling from my father''s brutal punch.


    My gaze drifted down to my neck, where a handprint bruise stood out against my pale skin, a painful reminder of the Don''s brutal choking. I was disgusted, glaring at the ugly mark.


    My skinny frame looked like it had been put through a wringer. My ribs were visible, my collarbone jutted out, and my arms looked like sticks.


    I felt like vomiting just looking at my appearance. Who was this broken, ugly person staring back at me?

 Chapter 12: ★FRAME★

    Chapter 12: ¡ïFRAME¡ï


    ~Chapter 12~


    Tearing my gaze away from that hideous thing looking back at me from the mirror, unable to bear the sight of the battered and bruised person staring back at me.


    I walked towards the shower and carefully began to strip off my dirty underwear, wincing from moving my sore limbs.


    The cool air of the bathroom kissed my skin, making me shiver. I looked down at my naked body, and my eyes welled up with tears.


    The bruises, the scars, the memories ¨C they all blended together, telling a story of pain and suffering.


    Stepped into the shower, and I looked at the complex contraption before me. Shit, I don''t know how to turn on the shower.


    I stared at it blankly, like an illiterate person confronting an unfamiliar script.


    I wasn''t completely illiterate, though; I had managed to teach myself to read simple words from the books I''d secretly taken from my father''s library.


    That room was off-limits to me, a place I haven''t seen him set foot in, yet it was always spotless and organized.


    Often, I would sneak in, careful not to make a sound, and snatch books that caught my eye. Those stolen books became my teachers, helping me learn the basics of reading.


    Shocking, but that''s not all because as for bathing, I hadn''t used a shower in ages. My usual cleaning routine consisted of using a damp cloth and bucket "my father" had been merciful to spare that for me to wipe myself down when I felt too sticky or sweaty.


    Standing now, in front of this unfamiliar space, I remember how helpless of a child I was and useless in not knowing how to perform even the simplest tasks.


    "Dear." A gentle knock at the door broke the silence; I turned to face the door, remembering the kind lady who was waiting for me. Had I taken too long, prompting her to check up on me?


    "Yes?" I called out, trying to sound calm.


    "Do you need help?" said the kind lady. I looked back at the shower in embarrassment.


    I had no idea how to turn it on or operate it.


    "I didn''t hear the shower running, so I thought..." She trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air while I quietly walked towards the door and gently opened it, using it as a shield to cover my naked self.@@@@


    She was standing in front of me with a look of inquiry, her face having wrinkles from old age but she was still beautiful.


    "I...I..." I cleared my throat in slight embarrassment "Can you help me with the shower?" I asked, getting straight to the point.


    She smiled warmly at me and I pushed open the door further, allowing her to pass through.


    She walked over to the shower, pressed a button, and I watched in amazment as water began to pour down from the showerhead.


    I quickly picked them up and put them on. Then, I slipped on the maid''s dress, which looked like a luxury from the ragged clothes I was used to.


    The dress wasn''t too long or too short; it was average, but it dwarfed me, it was a loose fit that drowned my skinny frame.


    The bust area was so big and hanging loosely from my shoulders like a sack. I looked like a child playing dress-up in her mother''s clothes.


    A mother I haven''t met.!!!, why are you so negative minded, I scolded myself.


    Fiddling with the dress, trying to adjust the shoulders countless times, but they kept falling down. I huffed in frustration, finally giving up. I walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, where Miss Stella was waiting.


    As soon as she saw me, she burst out laughing. Nice "Oh dear!" she exclaimed, walking towards me with a warm smile. She looked me up and down, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Look at you! So cute!" she cooed, lightly pinching my cheek.


    Cute!, please. I scowled, feeling a bit embarrassed, but a red blush spread across my cheeks despite myself.


    Miss Stella chuckled and patted my shoulder reassuringly. "Don''t worry, dear. By tomorrow, I''ll make sure it fits you perfectly. But today, we have things to do."


    She gave me some shoes before turning and walked towards the bedroom door, beckoning me to follow. I quickly wore them before trailing behind her, feeling a bit more at ease despite the awkward dress.


    She opened the door and we stepped out into the hallway.


    We passed the large, covered frame on the wall, and my eyes lingered on it, curiosity getting the better of me, AGAIN. I wondered what could be hidden beneath the cover and I must have slowed down without realizing it.


    "Come quickly, dear," Miss Stella turned back to look at me, making me snap my eyes away from the frame, quickly walking to catch up with her.


    I saw the elevator and assumed we would step inside it and glide down to our destination, but instead, Miss Stella walked off towards a corner of the hallway. I quietly followed behind her, turning the corner.


    A staircase was leading down into God knows where and I looked back at the elevator, confused. Why were we taking the stairs instead of the elevator? It looked like a waste of time, trudging down the stairs when we could have glided down effortlessly.


    But Miss Stella knows what she was doing as she descended and I quickly trailed behind her. We went down about 10 stairs before reaching a new hallway.


    We stepped into the hallway and I saw two elevators standing side by side. Miss Stella walked towards one and pressed the button. The doors slid open, and we entered. I stood silently, unsure of what to say or do. The elevator moved downwards.


    After a few minutes, the doors slid open, revealing a familiar hallway. My heart completely stopped beating as I recognized the surroundings.


    Why are we here?, what''s going on, don''t tell me...


    Miss Stella walked out of the elevator, but I remained frozen, my eyes fixed on her till she turned back towards me after noticing my footsteps weren''t behind her.


    "Come on, dear," she said gentle, as usual. But I shook my head, fear washing over me. Was she taking me back to that room? Had she been nice to me all along just to lure me back to that place?


    What a sneaky human, she is?!!!!

 Chapter 13: ★SNAKE★

    Chapter 13: ¡ïSNAKE¡ï


    ~Chapter 13~


    The snake walked back towards me, her eyes filled with concern. Ohh please, She gently held my arm, "What''s wrong?" Always the kind and calm words.


    I looked up at her. "Why are we here? Are you going to lock me up and let them do horrible things to me?" I blurted out, no need for moving around the bush.


    Miss Stella''s expression changed; got you, she looked taken aback by my words as if she had no idea what I was talking about. "Oh dear, no, not at all," Her brows were furrowed in confusion as she said softly.


    "We are here to clean the... mess that was made," she said, but when she reached the word "mess," her expression faltered. Her eyes darted nervously to the side, and her voice dropped to a whisper.


    She''s definitely hiding something, My eyes narrowed, why did she look nervous when she said "mess"? And where the hell were the cleaning tools? We hadn''t brought anything with us - no bucket, no soap, no water. It didn''t make sense.


    Looking at Miss Stella''s kind and gentle face, searching for answers. "Where are the tools we''re going to use?"


    Her expression returned to its usual calmness. "They''re all there, where we''re going to clean," Something didn''t feel right. My gut feeling was screaming at me. I tried pushing aside my doubts and nodded instead, following Miss Stella out of the elevator.


    What''s the point, arguing would be pointless,it would just go on and on and if I don''t co-operate, I feel like I might get in trouble.


    She took the lead again, and we turned a corner - the same corner where Mister Tattoo''s dead body had been lying.


    I froze, my eyes fixed on the bloody ground. His body was gone, but the blood remained, a stupid reminder of what had happened.


    The bloodstains were huge, making me feel nauseous so fast.


    So much blood, it''s making the memories come back, no, go away. My eyes darted away quickly, searching for something to distract me from the horrible scene.


    That''s when I saw the cleaning supplies - a bucket, mop, and various tools, neatly arranged against the wall.


    Miss Stella walked towards the cleaning supplies before she turned and faced me, a smile plastered on her face. "See, I told you they were here already," she said but I was shocked.


    How could she be so calm, so collected, when faced with this bloody scene? Didn''t she feel the same horror, the same revulsion, that I did? Or was she just used to it? Was this place filled with blood and violence every day, to the point where she''d become desensitized to it?


    Staring at her calm and collected face, I detected a flicker of sadness, or perhaps, a touch of concern in her eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by her usual serene smile.


    My eyes drifted back to the room he had come out of, and I saw two other men in suits walking around, carrying something huge wrapped in nylon.


    As they moved, the nylon shifted, revealing a sharp edge that looked closely like a human bone. My stomach turned as I realized what I might be looking at.


    The two men passed me too, their faces expressionless, and I quickly looked down, not wanting to draw attention to myself.


    Keeping my head down, wondering what the hell was going on in this place.


    I slowly stood back up and looked down. Shit, my maid''s gown was now stained with blood.


    That was the final straw for me as a huge bile rose in my throat, and I couldn''t hold it down. Throwing up, all the contents in my stomach spilling out onto the floor.


    Dropping the mop I was holding, I fell and my hands landed in the bloody puddle.


    Horror and revulsion filled me, my hands were covered in blood, its seeping into my skin.


    My hands scrambled to get out of the blood, pushing myself away from the area. My vision began to spin, and my eyes felt like they were rolling back in my head.


    The memories, the voice were all coming back, no, go away. desperate to get away from the blood;


    My eyes were not focused. Please, go away, please.


    Worthless!, I''m not


    Useless!!, nooo please.


    Weak!!, leave me alone.


    Make it stop, please, make it stop.


    Killer!!!


    "Dear, dear, Katya!!,"

 Chapter 14: ★VOICES★

    Chapter 14: ¡ïVOICES¡ï


    ~Chapter 14~


    "Ohh Lord, what have you done" unfocused my eyes snapped to see a face hovering above.


    "Lord, too much blood" Slowly adjusting to see Miss Stella holding my arm, trying to pick me up from the ground.


    Oh no, no, no, I glanced down to my right wrist already knowing what had happened. Not again, please, Blood was gushing out, soaking my sleeves and dripping onto the floor.


    Every freaking time, every damned time those voices showed up, I lose it, not knowing what happens next.


    My mind just stops, darkness and all I can think of is the release, the pain.


    The memories of my last wrist-cutting session flooded back with how it all started, making me want to recut the already healed wrist again.


    Remembering the feeling of the blade slicing through my skin. A hand was wrapping something against my wound, but I didn''t care; I just wanted the voices to go away, leave me alone; I''m not weak, I told myself, but the words were hollow.


    "I''m not weak, I''m not weak" whispering the words out loud, over and over, useless, stop.


    The voices were still there, echoing in my mind.


    "Katya, dear, it''s alright. You aren''t weak, you are strong. Come back, look at me," No, no. Everything was a lie. Go away, go away. She''s a liar, everyone''s lying, my hand was moving, trying to push her away.


    "Katya!!" smack, Miss Stella screamed, with a slap. A sharp, stinging slap that made my eyes water.


    My blurred eyes began to clear to see Miss Stella''s concerned face inches from mine.


    "You aren''t weak!" she shouted, making the words ring in my ears.


    I stared at her wide eyes before fresh tears poured down, "I''m not weak," shaking my head with a small voice. Miss Stella nodded quickly. "You''re not; you are strong, stronger than anyone I''ve ever met."


    The tears were like a river, falling in full force; her words, even though I didn''t want to believe them, smoothed my bettered heart a little; she quickly wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a long overdue hug, one that I desperately needed.


    I can''t remember the last time someone had held me like that, with this kindness. I leaned into the embrace, feeling secure, a feeling that I hadn''t experienced in a long time.


    It was refreshing, like a cool breeze on a sweltering summer, making me forget about the voices, the pain, and the fear.


    Why, I couldn''t help but ask myself.


    Why did this keep happening to me? Why couldn''t I control these episodes?


    My mind wandered back to the first time it had happened. I was 15, five years back and it was like a switch had been flipped.


    One moment I was fine, well not that fine with my abusive father, but I was surviving; the next, I was on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass in my father''s room and blood.


    From what I could remember, My father had tried to come onto me, but before he could, I had used his glass of whiskey he had been drinking to smash against his head leaving him unconscious.


    But then, that was when the voices started, just soon after. Whispering, taunting, telling me I was worthless, that I deserved to be hurt. I had learned to live with them, to tune them out, but sometimes... sometimes they were too loud to ignore.


    I snapped my eyes open, gazing blankly at the shower wall as the water continued to pour down. "You''re not weak, Katya. You''re strong." Miss Stella''s words echoed in my mind


    But was I? Really? Or was I just pretending to be?


    The shower grew colder, making the water less comforting and I turned off the faucet and stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel.


    Walking out into the bedroom to see Miss Stella neatly arranging some clothes on the bed, I looked over to the floor, but there weren''t any blood stains; she must have cleaned them cause I''m damn sure some blood had dropped down my dress.


    She turned over to me, her eyes moving to my wrist which I had removed the fabric, she sighed and walked over" You shouldn''t have removed the fabric now, come let''s use a bandage" She dragged me to the bed, before turning to the bathroom, disappeared and reappeared again with a box.


    Dropping the box onto the bed, she sat next to me, opening her palm for me to drop my injured wrist on it. "You wanna talk about it?" she began cleaning the wound, which stung like crazy, but I gritted my teeth together; I was not ready to say a word about what had happened.


    Miss Stella must have noticed; I wasn''t going to say anything as she finished bandaging the wound and standing up, "These are your clothes; I''ll leave you to change; I''ll be back soon," She didn''t wait for my reply, turning and walking out the front door.


    The clothes in question were a pair of jeans which I hadn''t worn for like a decade and a white tee shirt, it would be a struggle to get these jeans on with my wound, but I wore them carefully.


    The door to the room swings open, expecting to see Miss Stella, but no....the universe sent the devil.....The don.


    "I heard you''re sick," He said, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him....not again.


    I wasn''t sick, and what was his business if I was? After all, I was his slave.


    "I brought you a gift...." A gift!???....why would he bring a gift for me if I was his slave? He was holding onto a huge box with a grin plastered onto his handsome face, making me scared shirtless.

 Chapter 15: ★GIFT★

    Chapter 15: ¡ïGIFT¡ï


    ~Chapter 15~


    ROMEO


    Getting a call from Stella was unusual, especially when she knew I was at work. But her voice was trembling with urgency, saying something had happened to Boris'' daughter. Immediately, making me leave the office.


    Now, stepping out of the car and into the front door, the maid I had assigned greeted me. She handed over the gift I had instructed them to prepare and then scurried away.


    A smile spread across my face with the gift in hand, ready to deliver it to the fragile girl.@@@@


    She must have had the princess treatment, given her condition of almost fainting at just the simplest task, Cleaning the mess that was made by me.


    Remembering the incident made my thoughts drift to Dante, and my expression darkened. Remembering how I killed him, I frowned, stopping in my tracks.


    "I would rather die than be raped," those words echoed in my head, making me frown even more.


    I''m many things but a rapist, that''s low, he should have known better, and I should have given him a much darker death; I shook off the thoughts and continued my walk towards the elevator and glided up to the top floor where only my room and her room was located.


    Thinking of her made me smile again with the weight of the gift on my arm.


    Grasping the back of her head I turned her towards her gift. "Creative, isn''t it." she struggled against my tight grip, and I tightened it more, making her scream. "Stop."


    Stop, she said stop, but I''m just getting started. This was entertaining, a welcome change that I had needed, having to do the same thing all my life. And she''s about to change that.


    "Please, please, please," she kept chanting those words, but to me, that was nonsense. It was just a head, after all. Why wasn''t she accepting my gift? A gift that came from the deepest part of my heart.


    "Stop, please," She begged with tears dropping down onto Dante''s poor, lifeless head. I released my grip on her head, watching as she quickly scrambled up and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.


    Pure entertainment, that''s what I felt. Having to break someone mentally was the best entertainment you could ever find - just like how they broke mine.


    I sighed, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it up, and taking a long drag while gazing at Dante''s head. The three bullet holes were a beautiful decoration, one that she couldn''t even appreciate.


    What a shame, picking myself up along with my gift, she didn''t deserve it after all, E? la figlia del bastardo, (She''s the daughter of that bastard). Screaming was heard coming from the bathroom, but I didn''t care. My job here was done, and I turned to leave, but Stella was in front.


    She''s looking as if she seen a ghost, which wasn''t surprising as it was unexpected to see me leave work because of something like this, but I needed a break once a while and having this girl, I knew a whole lot of fun was about to come.


    "I believe this belongs to you, si?." I said, handing over the gift box and walking out of the room.


    Leaving Stella standing like a statue and my slave screaming like a fool.


    What a nice day... isn''t it!??

 Chapter 16: ★KILLER★

    Chapter 16: ¡ïKILLER¡ï


    ~Chapter 16~


    Killer~killer~ killer.


    The words spun around my head, haunting me, growing more louder and rapid.


    "I wasn''t the one who killed"


    "But you were the cause."


    "Stop. Get out of my head, just go away to wherever you crawled fro...."


    "Katya!"


    Ouch, I yelped in pain as the knife sliced my middle finger, quickly pulling my hand to my lip to suck on the wound. I looked to my side to see Miss Stella frowning at me but amusement dancing in her eyes.


    "I said help me with the veggies, not add more flavor," she said with a smile, walking over to me.


    She pushed me over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and made me put my cut underneath.


    It had been three days since the incident, and three days since I last saw him ¨C my tormentor.@@@@


    Yeah, I said it; he was my tormentor, dragging the position with my dead father.


    Remembering how he had brought that horrible gift made me want to puke. How heartless could he be to do that to his own man, just to make me break? Or what?


    "You should be more careful, I don''t want your beautiful skin all injured; your wrist is still healing." Miss Stella said while wrapping a cloth over, which I don''t know how she got it so fast, over the cut, closing it.


    Beautiful, sureeeeee, Sarcasm.


    She glanced at me briefly before responding, "When we get a day off. We all have a room here and only go out on a day off." Her words implied that staff members were largely confined in this estate.


    And that leads me to, How the hell am I going to leave, when only if it''s a day off and considering I''m a different case, how am I going to get a day off?


    "So, we can''t just leave?" I pushed for more information.


    Miss Stella''s expression was neutral, but her tone hinted at a warning. "Not without permission, dear." We finished filling the first trolley with the food and I asked my next question, trying to sound nonchalant. "Who do we ask for a day off?"


    Miss Stella''s eyes snapped to mine, piercing. I bet she is wondering why I was asking about days off when I''d only just started working at the estate.


    "You can only get a day off once a month," she said finally, "and only with Mr. Salvatore''s personal assistant''s approval." Nope, I''m never getting a day off then but I filed away the information, already thinking of my next question.


    "How many people live here, just in the main house?" Miss Stella looked at me, like really looked at me with narrow eyes and a hint of suspicion. Damn, Was I being too obvious with my question, or was my questions getting too many?


    "At least 50, but that''s for another time, dear. Let''s take this to the dinner hall." She clearly dismissed my question and began pushing the first trolley. I followed with the second.


    We entered the dinner hall and I took in the grandeur of the room. A single dining table dominated the huge space, with - I quickly counted- 20 seats arranged around it, making me wonder about the smaller number of seats and Miss Stella''s earlier statement about 50 people living here.


    Did the remaining 30 people - at least, according to Miss Stella''s count - consist of servants or others that were deemed as less important? This was obviously my first time entering the dining hall.


    "Quickly, help arrange them onto the table before they arrive." Some other maids were already present and We began to arrange the meals.


    The dinner hall doors pushed open as soon as we were done arranging and I turned to see both men and women walking into the hall.


    All the maids, including Miss Stella''s head, were down, and they quickly began to leave the hall. I didn''t need to be told as I quickly followed them, but before I could pass through the door, someone held my arm.


    "You, You''re serving" serving? Serving what? can''t they serve themselves. Slowly, I looked up to see a very beautiful lady with red hair looking back at me with a sharp gaze.


    And at the corner of my eyes, I could see Miss Stella looking at me from the door with a concerned face.


    I''m Doomed!

 Chapter 17: ★RED AND SLIVER★

    Chapter 17: ¡ïRED AND SLIVER¡ï


    ~Chapter 17~@@@@


    The lady was smoking hot, breathtakingly stunning, with beautiful red hair that was packed into a bun and sharp dark eyes.


    Her red-painted sharp fingernails released my arm before moving past me with effortless elegance toward the dining table.


    "I expect you to doing your job before I sit," She boomed, quickly waking me from my trance, and I hurriedly ran to the tableside, positioning myself with haste before she took her seat at the left-hand side of the table adjacent to the head seat.


    The head and right-hand seats are empty but not only that, They were adorned with very stylish intricate carvings and details, which seemed to be designed for people of importance


    Both seats had a different design, setting them apart from the rest of the table.


    Ahh, a chillingly cold water was harshly thrown into my face, shocking me. "Are you deaf!" The red-haired lady exclaimed while I blinked rapidly, struggling to clear and open my eyes after the water stung them.


    "I said pass me the Osso Buco!" she demanded, her Italian accent thick, as she glared at me with an expectation of immediate obedience.


    The Osso... what? I had no freaking clue what that meal was, as I quickly looked at the table like a fool, my eyes darting back and forth, fixed onto the table not knowing which meal to pick.


    I wasn''t Italian, and the meal sounded like some exotic Italian dish that I had never heard of.


    Scanning the vast array of dishes before me. There were at least twenty different types of meals and I knew none of their names.


    From the corner of my eyes, I could already see the other guests serving themselves with ease. So why did she want me to serve her in the first place? When the other guests seemed to know how to serve themselves.


    A very strong, heavy cup hit me hard on the head, and I winced in pain, instinctively holding the spot.


    Miss Red, as I had mentally dubbed her, glared at me with a look of disdain and annoyance, clearly unhappy with the time I was wasting. "Foolish," she spat before opening one of the pots, making my stomach growl, and serving herself like a princess, making me want to strangle her.


    Our eyes met, and a sense of familiarity, perhaps recognition that I couldn''t quite place. Where had I seen him before? The feeling nagged at me, but I couldn''t pinpoint the memory.


    "Stay out of this, Antonio," Miss Red hissed, standing up from her seat too. OK; this looked like a war was about to happen.


    The air vibrated with tension, her high heels clicking on the floor as she marched towards me.


    Throwing a hot slap to my face, sending my head flying to the side. The force was not expected from someone like her, it was So hard and painful, making me almost lose my balance.


    "I said enough, Adelasia," Mr. Antonio quickly intervened, grasping the witch''s hand preventing another slap. Not gonna lie, she was damned strong; my cheeks were still throbbing witnesses to her fury.


    "Cosa diavolo e? il tuo problema? Stiamo mangiando, trova un altro posto per fare la tua drammatizzazione, non qui," (What the devil is your problem? We are eating, find another place to do your drama, not here.") Mr. Antonio tone was scolding.


    But ohh, come on, not the Italian again! I couldn''t understand a thing, and my messed up mind began to wander to dark places. What if they were planning my demise?


    Mr. Antonio continued speaking, his words lost on me, watching as Adelasia harshly pulled her arm from his grip.


    She stormed out of the dining hall, banging the doors shut behind her, but not before she shot me a withering glare, a parting gift that made my skin crawl.


    The sound of scraping seats filled the room as guests rose from their seats.


    Their faces were set nonchalant like they didn''t care what went on in the room. They filed out of the hall, some murmuring conversations together.


    The door creaked shut, as the last departed, leaving an unsettling silence falling over the hall. I stood frozen, willing the door to reopen and admit a distraction from this impending confrontation.


    But I was not so fortunate as Mr. Antonio, who stood watching me with his sharp blue eyes opened his mouth, expecting to hear a biting insult or scathing rebuke, "Sorry for that, carry on your job." His words completely took me off guard, and he turned, leaving me standing there surprised.


    There''s still hope for humanity.

 Chapter 18: ★Miss Stella is ill?★

    Chapter 18: ¡ïMiss Stella is ill?¡ï


    ~Chapter 18~


    Not long after Mr. Antonio''s departure, Miss Stella strode into the hall with the other maids, her expression filled with concern.


    So kind.


    She walked straight to me, her eyes scanning my face as she grasped my arm. "Are you hurt, did she do anything to you?" Her voice full with worry.


    My hair was covering my cheeks, hiding the evidence of the slap Miss Red had given me, and I was grateful, cause I didn''t want Miss Stella to worry unnecessarily.


    The other maids were arranging the table, and we joined in to help. We cleared and cleaned every inch of the hall, making it sparkle like new.


    Once we finished, we headed to the kitchen to tackle the mountain of dishes.


    Arriving at the kitchen, Miss Stella suddenly stumbled backward. Luckily, I was behind, and I quickly moved to catch her, along with one of the other maids.


    We held her upright, preventing her from hitting the floor. Her breathing was labored, and she clutched her chest, her face contorted in pain. It was scary ¨C what was happening? She had been fine just moments ago.


    Carefully, we moved to the ground, "Miss Stella, Miss Stella!" I called out to her, shaking her softly.


    The maid who had helped me catch her released Miss Stella''s arm and rushed out of the kitchen, leaving me wondering what was going on.


    Why the hell was she running off to? My heart pounded in my chest as I looked around at the other maids, who stood frozen, their faces grim. Do something, will ya...?  Helpless.


    "Please, someone bring water." Stammering, I had no idea what I was doing, but water seemed like it might help bring her back. Her breathing was coming out in gasps, and I was getting desperate


    Someone handed me the glass of water, and I quickly sprinkled some on Miss Stella''s face, hoping against hope that it would revive her.


    It didn''t, "Here," the lady who I thought left me to do this alone came back with a pill in hand, running towards us and dropping to the ground. She opened two from the pill before popping it into Miss Stella''s mouth and carefully giving her water to down it.


    Miss Stella''s eyes fluttered open, before coughing hard. Some minutes later, she gazed up at me in confusion and pain.


    The lady turned to me but her eyes went behind me before flickering to meet mine. "I think it''s best Stella tells you herself." Tell me herself, so it must be serious. Oh, Lord.


    The lady pushed the door open to step out, and I called out to her, "At least tell me your name, please."


    She smiled at me before, saying"Victoria"


    "Thank you, Miss Victoria," Gratitude was all I could off as she left me. If she wasn''t here today, I didn''t know what to do, and that made me look all the more useless and worthless and stupid.


    Such a useless being, the words stung as I turned to the bathroom, dropping the towel and bowl into the sink. Turned on the faucet, before Looking up to the small mirror hanging above the sink. My bruised-up cheek greeted me that was gifted by that witch slap.


    "Foolish," I spat at my reflection, angry and frustrated simmering just below the surface. Grabbing a towel and drying off my hands before taking a deep breath, Steeling myself, and walking out of the bathroom to still find Miss Stella lying peacefully on the bed.


    "Please be okay." I reached out, gently taking her arm to check her temperature. Her skin was warm to the touch, but not alarmingly so.


    Reassured, I released her arm and turned to leave, needed to get back to work.


    I closed the door softly behind me, careful not to disturb her rest. The kitchen was my destination, but as soon as I turned a corner my tormentor was walking up the stairs. Why, isn''t he using the elevator?


    But not just that, he was completely covered in blood, looking like he had been trudging through a slaughterhouse.


    His signature cigarette was lit up on his lips, giving him that evil vibe of a man who had just committed a heinous crime, and yet, he seemed utterly calm.


    Our eyes met, and I tried stepping back. Mr Salvatore''s -I remember his name- gazed me up and down before smirking devilishly, and that damn half-covered face gave me the creeps, holding me captive, and I couldn''t look away.


    He began moving towards me, smoking his cigarette, not giving a damn about his health, just like my dead father.


    The same careless puffing their lives away, the same reckless disregard for life. Mr. Salvatore must have sensed my unease, as his smile grew wider, more menacing.


    He took a long drag on his cigarette before exhaling the smoke directly onto my face, making me quickly cough hard, my eyes stinging. I tried to step back, but he held me closer to him, pressing his blood-covered body to mine and pinning me to the wall.


    The smell of tobacco wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of blood on his clothes and now on my clothes. His breath was hot against my skin as he leaned in closer, his lips inches from mine.


    WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!

 Chapter 19: ★This might lead to my escape★

    Chapter 19: ¡ïThis might lead to my escape¡ï


    ~Chapter 19~


    His breath was hot against my skin. Lips inches from mine, making me tremble. Trying to push him away. What does he want?


    His eyes bore down into mine, and a shiver ran down my spine. "Let me go" whispering the words softly and slowly in fear for our lips not to brush together.


    Mr. Salvatore¡¯s creepy smile grew wider, pressing me more into his body. "Are you scared?" His voice was like honey as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "You should be" he whispered.


    I struggle hard to break free from his tight grip. But he was insanely strong, holding me in place. "Why did you reject my gift." I stopped struggling to look at him straight in the eyes.


    Why did I reject his gift, he said. Who in their right frame of mind would bring that horrific thing as a gift?


    The memory of it still made my skin crawl and my stomach churn. His grip on me tightened, digging his fingers deep into my skin.


    He swished me so hard, my head spinning from the sudden pressure, reminding me I hadn¡¯t replied to him.


    "I...I didn¡¯t want the gift," I stammered out, struggling to breathe. His grip was suffocating, making my lungs burn. "But thanks for offering, though," I added, sounding sarcastic despite the fear that was threatening to overwhelm me.


    Fuck, I don¡¯t know where I got this much confidence from. Maybe it¡¯s because I¡¯ve hit rock bottom, and I genuinely didn¡¯t care about my life anymore.


    I ended up in the same miserable place I¡¯d been living in for years.


    If I die, then so be it. I won¡¯t show weakness, not now. I had survived so many horrible things from that devil that birthed me, and showing weakness never stopped the torture.


    So now what¡¯s the worst that could happen? I¡¯d just end up in a grave, six feet under, with no more pain, no more fear, no more nothing. The thought was strangely liberating.


    It was twisted, but I felt calm, meeting his gaze sharply, and I saw a flicker of surprise there, perhaps curiosity. But it was quickly replaced by his usual cold stare before he clicked his tongue, saying. "Shame." The word like ice water.


    No..no....This is not what I¡¯m expecting, not the reaction. I was expecting him to explode, to unleash his wrath upon me, and let me just die in peace.


    Instead, he gave me a slow, menacing smile that spread across his half-covered face, making my blood run cold, exhaling another set of smoke directly onto my face before releasing me harshly from his tight hold.


    He was about to turn and leave, but my hand shot out, holding his wrist before he could depart. What the hell am I doing, coughing furiously but still holding onto his arm? His eyes looked down at his wrist, then up at my face, raising an eyebrow in question.


    "Akh~ Cigarette ~akh~ isn¡¯t good for your health." I managed to gasp out, the foolish and insignificant words that I couldn¡¯t stop myself from saying.


    He boomed with laughter, the sound husky and deep. I looked to the side. Did I say something funny?


    His laughter was infectious, but not to me, this sound was sending chills down my spine. My half-ass confidence left me with his unsettling amusement. Something about it made me feel like I was missing a crucial joke.


    He moved closer to me and I quickly jerked my arm away, leaving his arm, trying to create some distance. But that didn¡¯t stop him from walking towards me, grabbing my face, digging his fingers into my cheeks, and pulling me closer.


    My lips parted in shock from the pressure, opening and closing like a fish out of the water. My eyes widened as we held contact.


    He dragged on his cigarette before moving so close to my parted lips and exhaled, blowing the streams of smoke directly into me.


    "Ahk, st..o..ahk .p" Coughing out, my lungs burning from the acrid smoke.


    This was harsh, I can¡¯t breathe. I¡¯m drowning.


    Drowning in a sea of toxic fumes."Ahk, st...o...ahk...p," I gasped, shaking my head, trying to clear the smoke from my burning lungs.


    But he increased the digging of his fingers deeper into my cheeks, exhaling all the smoke down my throat before pushing me like a piece of paper into the wall. "It¡¯s none of your business, si?" My tormentor, there he was. He said calmly before finally turning around leaving me coughing my lungs out with tears streaming down my face.


    Sliding down the wall, too weak to hold myself up. "Clean this damned place and come take my laundry." He commanded, his voice fading into the distance as he disappeared from my sight.


    Wicked soul, My sarcastic self was back, taunting me with its foolishness. Oh, now you are back after running off, leaving me to handle all this myself.


    My legs got their strength to pick me up, and I was still coughing from the smoke, trying to compose myself. I looked down, my clothes bloody and stained, "Stupid fellow, telling us to clean this mess up,"


    "Shut it," I screamed in my head. But nope. To my horror, I realized I had screamed that out loud.


    Because a maid walking past me gave me a strange look. A look that said ~Have you lost your mind~.


    Fuck! I muttered under my breath, my face getting flushed as I quickly ran out to the cleaning supplies room, wanting to escape my embarrassment.


    I had been there before, and it wasn¡¯t far from the kitchen, so I knew exactly where to go. Reaching there and grabbed what I needed before hurrying back to the scene of the crime.


    Following the blood trails with unease, moving downwards the stairs that kept stretching on forever. I finally reached the bottom floor ~entrance~ and was taken aback by its sheer size.


    It was huge and spacious, with high ceilings. This was my first time coming face to face with the entrance.


    I had never been down here, at least not when I was conscious. The memory of being knocked out cold before waking up in that room to Mr Tattoo stirred.


    Miss Stella hasn¡¯t brought me here either. So this is my first time facing the door that might lead to my escape.


    The door in front of me might lead to freedom, or it might lead to more danger.


    Well, I won¡¯t find out if I don¡¯t try, would I? I took a deep breath, moving towards the door, my eyes fixed on the handle.


    Here goes nothing.

 Chapter 20: ★ My luck★

    Chapter 20: ¡ï My luck¡ï


    ~Chapter 20~


    Slowly, I wrapped my sweaty palm around the handle. Thinking twice about my decision before pushing the heavy doors.


    My heart pounding as I peek outside, scanning the area for any signs of danger. I looked to the right to see a huge giant called a man holding a gun, looking down at me with sharp eyes.


    Holy shit! The man was towering and massive.


    Someone cleared their throat to my left and slowly I looked sideways, my heart sinking, seeing another huge looking man standing with their gun. I¡¯m cooked.


    I forced out a smile at them, shaking slightly before pushing myself fully out the door, closing it softly behind me, I needed to act normal, to pretend like I was just a regular maid.


    Come on, they won¡¯t know I¡¯m a forced slave unless that motherfucker ~Mr. Salvatore~ had broadcasted to all his men I was his slave.


    The two men with broad shoulders, sandwiched me, reminding me how tiny I am.


    Straining my neck to be able to meet them eye to eye, I glanced at them in attempt to appear confident and convincing.


    "What¡¯s the matter, Miss" The man to my right asked with a deep voice, his dark brown eyes sizing me up.


    Both men were dressed in suits and the one at my left was sporting a scar that dragged from his brow to his cheek. Giving him the ~Don¡¯t mess with me~ look.


    I cleared my throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible all while conjuring up a believable reason. "I, uh, I was cleaning, so I came to check if I needed to clean this area too." Damn, mentally patting myself on the back. I did good, my lie sounded reasonable and I had my cleaning supplies to back me up.


    However, I was thrown another question "Why¡¯s you uniform bloody." Mr scar said.


    Shot, I forgot about that. I looked down at my maid dress, thinking fast for a new excuse. I couldn¡¯t just blap out that their boss did this.


    That might only lead to more trouble, more suffering.


    Nervously, I began laughing, the sound awkward and strained. "Hehe" I laughed before answering" You know, regular cleaning. I slipped while cleaning a mess....a mess that was made." My voice trailed off, hoping it was a believable lie.


    I remembered when Miss Stella had given me that disgusting and inhuman task to clean that blood covered hallway. And memories of how she was looking calm and collected when facing the scene.


    So given the twisted nature of this household, I¡¯m sure my explanation seems plausible. After all, what was a little bloodstain in a place where violence and cruelty seemed to lurk around every corner?


    The two giants narrowed their eyes. They looked at each other before facing me back with emotionless faces. I stood there, looking as innocent and non threatening as possible.


    Before the right guy said. "The place is clean, go back inside." I quickly nodded, turning back into the house, trying not to show how much I was relieved in getting my shitty self out of the situation.


    My hand grasped the door handle as I pushed it shut behind me, leaning my back against the door, exhaling deeply. I let out the breath I¡¯d been holding unconsciously.


    That was close. I looked back to my cleaning supplies, remembering I got work to still do and moved towards them.


    Continuing my work, scrubbing and cleaning all the blood stains from his footsteps that led up the stairs. I climbed the stairs, my breathing grew heavier.


    Walking up so many flights was an exercise in itself, and My legs ached with each step. The physical labor was exhausting, but it was nothing compared to the emotional toll of living in this house.


    Finally, reaching the top floor, my body on the verge of collapsing. I pushed my cleaning supplies with so much effort, my hand and leg screaming in agony.


    After finishing the gruesome task of cleaning all the blood stains I could find, I stood before the door to the monster room. I still needed to take his laundry, a task that filled me with revulsion. That psycho.


    I pushed my cleaning supplies to the side, trying to compose myself, wiping out the sweat from my forehead to clear my mind. My eyes fixed on the door, Steeling myself.


    Only God knows what horrors was inside, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if I saw a head just chilling as a decoration, with how twisted he was.


    Preparing to see the worst things, I reached out to the handle, forgetting I should have knocked ~I was freaking tired~ I pushed open the door before entering to see a dark room.


    The room¡¯s lighting was very dim and I blinked twice, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The walls were painted a deep ~either black or dark blue, I couldn¡¯t quite discern ~ but they had a luxurious touch of gold.


    My gaze wandered to the center of the room, where a massive bed dominated the space. The bed¡¯s was covered with a dark sheet that was nearly tidy, with only a few wrinkles suggesting recent disturbing.


    However, it was clear that he hadn¡¯t dropped onto the bed, at least not yet but I saw something on top.


    Making me slowly move towards the bed to see what it was and I saw it was his mask.


    The mask I had always wondered, the one that seemed to hide a thousand secret. what was it hiding?


    If this wasn¡¯t on his face, and he wasn¡¯t on his bed, then where was he?


    Just as I was pondering this question, my ears picked up the sound of a door opening followed by the soft creak of the footsteps hitting the floor.


    I turned to see him walking out of what I assumed was the bathroom, with only a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. The heat of the shower he had taken washed into the room before the door closed, carrying with it the scent of soap and something else, something musky and masculine.


    My eyes were drawn to his chest, where droplets of water clung to his skin, and red flush quickly rise to my cheeks.


    "My eyes are up here, Slave..."

 Chapter 21: ★Curiosity killed the cat★

    Chapter 21: ¡ïCuriosity killed the cat¡ï


    ~Chapter 21~


    "My eyes are up here, Slave" Mr. Salvatore¡¯s voice low and husky as he spoke those words in a cocky, self-assured manner.


    Chills running down my spine, feeling his gaze fixed on me. My eyes snapped up to his face that I couldn¡¯t quiet see as he was mostly standing in the darker part of the room, making it impossible for me to discern his features clearly.


    Clever, I so wanted to see his bare face as it wasn¡¯t covered by the mask that was on my hand.


    "Snooping around someone¡¯s property is illegal." He was amused, and it was painfully clear through his tone.


    I bit back my retort, the words; Killing someone is also illegal; wanted to shoot those out with fire, but I held my tongue.


    Narrowing my eyes, trying to see his face as he lazily dried his dripping hair with a towel, walking closer to me and I thought I would finally see his face.


    But ~no~ he was smart enough to hang the towel onto his head, using it to cover half his face.


    The gesture was casual, but I knew it was calculated. He was hiding something, and I was determined to uncover it.


    "I came to pick up the laundry." looking at him straight in the eyes, finding how to read his expression in this dark room. But he just smiled, his teeth shining an enigmatic smile that left me feeling uneasy and unsure.


    These few times we¡¯d crossed paths, he¡¯d been throwing me this sinister smirk, and it was getting to be too much.


    "This belongs to me," He snatched the mask out from my palm before I could drag it back. Turning away from me, he said, "The clothes are in the bathroom..."


    "Why do you wear a mask?" I blurted out, cutting him off. My curiosity getting the better of me. It was a mistake asking this kind of question, but I wanted to know.


    Curiosity killed the cat, -yeah sure- but this cat was ready to die.


    My heart leaped out as Mr. Salvatore snapped his head towards me, his eyes flashing with anger. He strode towards me with quick steps, his face twisted in a scowl. I¡¯m dead.


    Harshly, he grasped me by my neck, in a tight grip, his fingers digging deep into my skin. Pulling my face closer to his, making me see the towel slide a little to see some part, but he was quickly out of my sight as he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear.


    "You shouldn¡¯t ask questions you don¡¯t want the answers to, Slave," he hissed, my heart hammering my ribcage. "Me smirking at you doesn¡¯t make you forget your damned place. Now, are you going to behave, or do we need to take this further?" He growled the threat loud and clear, leaving me looking straight at the bathroom door as he almost choked me to death. Lungs burning, panic setting in, can¡¯t breathe, can¡¯t breathe.


    "I¡¯m... ah...sorry," I managed to choke out a strangled apology.


    "Good, Now fuck off." He sneered, letting me out of his death grip. I didn¡¯t need to hear his words twice as I practically ran to the bathroom, opening the door and slamming it behind me.


    Leaning against it to catch my breath, relief flowing through my veins. Only then did I release the shaky breath I¡¯d been holding onto.


    My hands trembling, raising them over to my neck, feeling the ache from Mr. Mask¡¯s brutal grip, wincing and coughing from the tenderness of my bruised skin.


    Slowly, I pushed the sticky strands of my hair, clinging to my forehead, out of my face. Before taking another deep breath, calming my racing heart, and moving further into the bathroom.


    Scanning the room, only to see the blood-stained suit he wore littered on the floor, discarded like trash.


    Images of my tormentor¡¯s wicked violence were fresh in my mind as I looked to the side to see a small laundry basket that was empty.


    And I took it, my hand shaking, ~Why?~ Still shaken slightly from that harsh treatment I faced. I began gathering the bloody clothes and carefully putting them into the basket.


    Doubtful these stains are fully going to be cleaned. Thinking to myself as I finished gathering the clothes and stood up straight, back aching slightly from bending over, before walking to the sink to observe my neck, through the mirror hanging above it.


    The room¡¯s lighting overhead gave me a way to see how the finger-shaped bruises on my neck stood out like a glare.


    You can¡¯t go a day without getting a bruise, can you? Mentally scolding my ignorant self. My eyes wandered to the sink, and I got the shock of my life.


    God, My stomach churns with looking at it. A severed finger lay on the porcelain, still having a golden ring on it.


    Very disgusting seeing something like this, my vision blurring at the edges as I felt lightheaded.


    This was...this was inhuman. I had thought I was prepared for the worst, but this...this was something else entirely. Not expecting to see something so gruesome, so blatant, making me recoil, refusing to process the image.


    Head, now finger, is he an animal? Quickly, I picked up the laundry basket, shaking slightly as I grasped the wicker handle.


    The finger was none of my business, and I didn¡¯t have the stomach to confront the reality of what I had just seen.


    Pushing aside my thoughts before opening the door, eager to escape the bathroom and the horrors it contained.


    Walking into the bedroom, finding the monster sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard as he leaned on the other side, a laptop in front of him, illuminating the mask that was on his face now.


    I bet he specifically wore it so I wouldn¡¯t be able to see that ugly face of his. But I didn¡¯t care; I just wanted to get out of there. I walked out towards the door to leave, but his voice followed me, stopping me in my tracks, saying, "Discard them into the trash." His tone detached, giving instructions to his servant. What a heartless soul he was. I gave him the bombastic side eyes.


    So, the devil didn¡¯t need his bloody clothes to be washed anymore? Why hadn¡¯t he discarded them himself? Or he intentionally ordered me to come pick up his laundry, just to assert his control?


    And then there was the finger. Right now, I was convinced he¡¯d deliberately left that disgusting thing in the sink for me to find, just to scare me. It was a cruel, twisted move, designed to intimidate and unsettle me. This man was playing with my mental health.


    Very evil.


    Meekly, I replied, "Okay," keeping my tone neutral, before pushing myself out the door. I couldn¡¯t wait to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the bedroom and the monster who lurked within.


    ¡ï¡ï¡ï


    Thank you all for reading my book so far, please comment so I know what is my mistake.


    quick question; is the story dark enough or should I turn it up. Hehehe

 Chapter 22: ★Is she dead?★

    Chapter 22: ¡ïIs she dead?¡ï


    ~Chapter 22~


    Quickly, finishing up all my tasks, from discarding his clothes to running back to the kitchen to help wash the dishes. My hands move mechanically, exhaustion weighing down on me.


    After rushing like a mad dog, I retreated to my room, eager to wash away the day¡¯s horrors. The warm bathwater was much needed as it enveloped me, soothing my bruised skin and calming my frazzled nerves.


    I hurriedly freshened up before, dressing into the few simple clothes Miss Stella had provided, feeling grateful to her. She was the only person in this oppressive household who showed me kindness. I needed to check on her and crash down in her room for the night.


    My eyelids dropped ever so slightly as I trudged towards Miss Stella¡¯s room, my legs heavy with fatigue.


    Turning through the maze called hallways and towards the stairs, I almost stumbled, sleepwalking. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, my heart stopped dead.


    The last person I wanted to see ~Well, not the last, Mr Salvatore was the last


    .~ stood before me, her eyes blazing with so much hatred.


    This witch¡¯s face was twisted into a scowl, matching towards me, her features distorted by malice.


    Her clothes ~can¡¯t even call that a cloth~ were equally disturbing. The flimsy nightdress, if it could be called that, left little to the imagination.


    I could clearly see her tits that were pushing up towards her throat. Her ample bosom almost getting bigger than her head. The sheer fabric defied gravity, barely leaving anything to imagination.


    I wasn¡¯t up for this show, and definitely wasn¡¯t in the mood for this confrontation, with how exhausted and drained I am from the day¡¯s events. I averted my gaze, uncomfortable with her explicit display of curves.


    Attempting to move forward, ignoring her presence, but she wouldn¡¯t let me pass without a fight. Her bony fingers grasped my hair, yanking it with such force that I feared it would be pulled out from the roots. "You stinking prostitute," she spat, literally into my ear.


    I only knew this bitch today


    Wincing, pain shooting through my scalp as she twisted my hair, her grip relentless. My mouth shaking from not cursing out at her that she¡¯s the one dressed as a prostitute.


    Tears welled up, stinging my eyes from the agony as I tried to pry her fingers loose. " Ahh, Let me go," I pleaded, but she only released my hair, throwing me into the wall with a violent shove.


    Snarling out in venom, she said," You think, having that stupid Antonio defend you. You now have the right not to acknowledge my presence? You filthy thing." My face was grabbed by her and was jammed against the wall.


    Pulling my hair back viciously before throwing me a hot slap, the force of her brutally made my head spin in searing pain.


    She was too strong for her frail frame, and I struggled, defending myself against her relentless assault.


    Despite my efforts, she landed a solid blow to my eye, the impact sending shockwaves through my skull.


    Feeling myself being thrown against the wall once more, my head spinning with dizziness. My vision blurring, helpless against this witch. She must have been trained in wrestling as her attacks were merciless.


    Blood dripped down my nose. Can¡¯t I just be left alone for once? My thoughts swirl just like my head. Can¡¯t I just have a peaceful moment?


    My vision was blurring, seeing black and white; death was calling me. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes; I didn¡¯t want to die.


    I have been trying to convince myself that I¡¯m suicidal but I¡¯m not. I¡¯ve been drowning in pain and suffering.


    Never have I experienced anything that made me laugh, just pain and suffering, not even a little joy.


    Why me? Why. I refused to let death claim me, not today, definitely not at the hands of this monstrous woman.


    Summoning every last ounce of strength, I spotted a vase while she threw me towards the wall nearby and I seized it.


    Quickly grabbing the vase, unconcerned about the consequences of what I¡¯m about to do. I swung the vase, striking the witch¡¯s head with a sickening crunch.


    She looked at me wide eyes, ~not expecting that, huh~ before crumpling to the ground with a thud, releasing me from her tight grip.


    I inhale sharply, holding onto my head that felt it was about to fall off at anyway moment. This witch was damned strong.


    Looking over to her unconscious body; tempted to kick her freaking head for the pain I was in right now.


    I moved closer to her, kicking her leg instead, wanting to wake her up and apologize for my behavior.


    Because I didn¡¯t want to risk being hanged for attacking a seemingly high-ranking member of the household. She looked like a higher-up.


    But she didn¡¯t wake up. I tried kicking her legs again, but there was no response. I tried again, gently before increasing the force and urgency.


    Oh lord, alarm creeping up my spine. I dropped to the floor beside her, shaking her left and right but still to no avail, looking limp and unresponsive.


    My heart somersaulted as panic set in; oh lord, oh lord, what have I done?


    I gazed at her pale face, seeing a trickle of blood making its way down her forehead. "No, no, no," Whispering, my mind now racing with the consequences.


    Killer!


    Murderer!


    Get the fuck out of my head; the voice was coming. Moving my ear to her chest, I strained to listen for a heartbeat. I didn¡¯t mean to kill her, maybe to knock her out but not this.


    There was silence, I¡¯d killed her. Guilt and fear washed over me. The voices growing more louder in my head, taunting me.


    Budum.....budum... what¡¯s that? The beat was weak but it was there, nonetheless. I released the breath I was holding, that was close, I slumped to the ground breathing out.


    Before looking over to her forehead, examining the wound on her head, and thankfully, it wasn¡¯t deep. She would survive it ~hopefully~


    I wiped out the blood that was still dripping from my nose. Standing back up to look down at her, contemplating. Should I leave her here, lying unconscious in the hallway, and make my way to Miss Stella¡¯s room to finally get some sleep, or should I move her somewhere disclosed and discreet?


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Finally making my decision, I began dragging her by her ankle, her body scraping against the floor ~I¡¯m sorry~. I didn¡¯t have the strength to pick her up as she weighed a pound for someone her size. She was heavier than I expected, making me sweat my ass off just from her weight.


    My head was still spinning from being hit repeatedly as I began thinking again.


    Where could I take her? I didn¡¯t know her room¡¯s location and the top floor was off-limits ¨C my tormentor might spot me-.


    I paused, releasing her leg as I pondered the options. Miss Stella¡¯s room was out of the question too; She might wake up and ask me questions.


    Questions that I wasn¡¯t ready to answer and I didn¡¯t want to add her into this problem I had gotten myself into.


    Breathing heavily while still contemplating the scenarios, I bent over her face, checking if she still slept.


    But instead, her eyes snapped open, locking onto mine sharply


    "Fuck," She was going to kill me.

 Chapter 23: ★Miss red can be nice★

    Chapter 23: ¡ïMiss red can be nice¡ï


    ~Chapter 23~


    As soon as her eyes snapped open, I froze. We stared at each other aimlessly. But instead of the venomous glare I expected, she frowned.


    Looking so confused and disoriented, she whispered softly."Why are you looking at me." Her voice is barely audible, and the tone~lord have mercy~ tone was not something I¡¯d ever heard from her before - gentle, almost vulnerable.


    Not matching the personality I knew of her. "Huh?" I stood there, dumbfounded, struggling to reconcile this new side of Miss Red.


    Did she hit her head somewhere, ~haha~ I laughed inwardly? I did hit her, but that didn¡¯t mean she would be looking this confused.


    Her frown deepened, and she raised a hand to her face, wincing as if in pain. She looked around, taking in her surroundings, and her confusion grew more. "Why am I on the floor?" she muttered, trying to push herself up.


    But she didn¡¯t make it far as she groaned out, dropping back down, clutching her head in her hands. I didn¡¯t hit her that hard, did I?


    I watched, transfixed, as she struggled to slowly sit up again and for a moment, I forgot about the terror she¡¯d inspired in me. I need to help her.


    She was looking like a woman who was hurt and disoriented, and something inside me stirred... not exactly sympathy; ~ After all, she had been the worst to me, and it was only today I knew her~ but something close to it.


    Without thinking much, I reached out to her, holding her as she gently got up.


    She sways, trying to get her footing, making me quickly hold her elbows as she finally gets her balance. She brought her hand that had been holding onto her head to gaze at the blood stains. She hurriedly touched the wound on her head again before looking at me with wide eyes.


    "What happened to me." She kept touching the wound on her head, wincing with a puzzled expression.


    You don¡¯t know, Looking at her confused just as she¡¯s looking back at me with the same expression.


    I hesitated, unsure how to respond. Did she genuinely not remember? Studying her face, searching for any sign of deception, but all I saw was confusion.


    Did she really not remember, or were her acting skills top-notch?


    Think fast, Katya, I told myself. If she doesn¡¯t remember, I wasn¡¯t about to confess my role in knocking her out.


    But what if she was pretending, trying to lure me into a trap? Wanting me to tell her the truth so she can forgive me. I quickly pushed the thought aside ¨C this was Miss Red, the witch of witches, after all, the devil incarnate.


    Forgiveness wasn¡¯t in her vocabulary.


    I was going die before she ever changed that character of hers, and I genuinely want to know why she¡¯s so mean and arrogant.


    "I found you unconscious, so I was checking if you were still breathing and helping you get to your room," I said, the words rolling off my tongue with ease. It was the perfect lie for the perfect occasion. I watched her closely, praying she¡¯d buy it and she did.


    Inwardly I smiled. But her gaze narrowed as she showed me her blood-stained hand. "Who did this?" she asked, her soft voice going low and menacing.


    Was she back to her senses, oh no, she is going to kill me.


    Still maintaining my lie, I feigned calmness, careful not to rush my response. "I don¡¯t know. I was heading to my room when I saw you lying unconscious in the hallway." Holding my breath, hoping she wouldn¡¯t see through my deception.


    She took a step closer, her eyes boring into mine, making me instinctively recoil. My heart was pounding, and I almost took a step back, but I managed to hold my ground. She raised an eyebrow at my defensive behavior, but mercifully, she didn¡¯t press the issue.


    Instead, she spoke words that left me stunned: "Thank you." I stared at her, mouth agape, wondering if she¡¯d grown two heads.


    Come on, this was the devil incarnate, the woman who¡¯d almost mushed my head into the wall.


    I like this version of her better. A wicked thought crept into my mind: maybe I should have hit her earlier, or perhaps I should go hit my tormentor, too, to see if it would work the same magic.


    The absurdity of the thought made me want to laugh, but I knew better than to tempt fate; my tormentor wasn¡¯t going to be weak if I tried hitting him like I did with Miss Red.


    Her voice broke into the fog in my head, "What¡¯s your name, I haven¡¯t seen you before." Surprised by her question, I raised a brow. She really did forget me.


    My hit must have erased me from her memories. But that didn¡¯t make sense ¨C if she¡¯d lost all her memories, she wouldn¡¯t have recognized this house, would she?


    Should I answer my name truthfully or lie? A shiver ran down my spine as I pondered the implications. Lying was risky ¨C she was bound to find out my real name eventually. So, I opted for honesty.


    "Katya, I¡¯m a new maid here," I replied, watching her closely, wondering if mentioning my position as a maid would trigger any memories.


    After all, She carries herself like someone who doesn¡¯t associate with people below her social class. Would she even remember interacting with a lowly maid like me?


    I waited for her response, my heart pounded in my chest. Would she recall our previous encounters and finally lash out, or would she continue to treat me like a stranger?


    Her lips curved upward in a gentle, warm smile. "Thank you, Katya. I¡¯m Adelasia," she said, friendly. I already knew her name, but I feigned ignorance, playing along.


    "You¡¯re welcome, Miss Adelasia," I replied, sounding polite too. Can¡¯t she see my face was also bloody, or her eyes got hit too? I was still trying to wrap my head around this new, affable Adelasia.


    "Oh, please, call me Adelasia," she said with a chuckle, shaking her head in a playful gesture. "I¡¯m not that old, hahaha." Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she jiggled her shoulders, drawing attention to her chest.


    Still reeling from the shock of her new behavior, wondering if this was some kind of ruse. I hope that this unusual behavior of hers wouldn¡¯t arouse suspicion among the other higher-ups, who knew how she originally behaved.


    "Alright, Katya, I¡¯ll see you around," Adelasia said, passing me and walking toward the elevator. "Thanks once more for your help." She smiled at me over her shoulder, and I forced a smile in return, still processing what had just happened.


    Watching as the elevator doors closed behind her. Had my hit to the head somehow altered her personality, or was this just a temporary aberration?


    What have I done to her?

 Chapter 24: ★The bastard’s daughter★

    Chapter 24: ¡ïThe bastard¡¯s daughter¡ï


    ~Chapter 24~


    Third POV


    ????


    "Stop...stop...stop." Screaming at the top of his lungs. A fifteen year old cries for mercy were drowned out by the sound of his own heart hammering in his ears.


    He watched, paralyzed in the chair he was bounded on, as a mean-looking man rains down blows on a man who looked to be in his forties.


    The scene was bloody, the man kept throwing punch upon punches using a blade wrapped clothing to deliver them straight towards the teen father¡¯s face.


    Leaving deep gashes on the already battered face, one eye was out from its socket and the other could barely open.


    The kid¡¯s voice filled with rage, screamed, "Let him go! You monster!" His face was red with anger, veins bulging in his neck as he strained against the ropes binding him to the chair.


    What had they done to deserve a thing like this? Yes, his father was a Mafia boss, but he was a great leader, fair and just.


    The Italian Mafia organization was satisfied with his leadership, and so were other mafia organizations. They had maintained a delicate balance of power, avoiding unnecessary conflicts.


    "What did you say, boy?" The man¡¯s thick Russian accent sent a chill down the kid¡¯s spine as he sneered. He took a step closer, his massive frame looming over the teenager.


    The kid¡¯s face was set in a stoic expression,, his eyes burning with fury. How dare this man touch his father?


    "I said, face someone your own size!" He spat, struggling against the ropes, only to tighten more, cutting into his skin.


    Sniffing his chuckles, the man held back his laughter, ending more waves of rage into the kid.


    "And who might that be, you?" The man sneered, his fist flying out towards the kid. He gave a hard punch to the kid face, sending the kid¡¯s head snapping back.


    Just as the man was about to deliver another blow, the door to the room pulled open, welcoming three individuals dressed in suits.


    They strode into the room with an air of confidence, scanning the space before taking in the scene. The door creaking shut behind them echos through the room.


    "Bossa," the man acknowledged, giving a glare to the tied-up kid before stepping aside, revealing the three newcomers.


    Among them, one who looked to be the boss, wearing dark shades, acknowledged the greeting by replying, "Daniil." Giving Daniil a nod, his expression unreadable.


    Dizziness weighed heavily on the kid, but he refused to give in to just a punch to his head. His eyes narrowed as he took in the two adults¡¯ impassive faces and the third person, a boy who looked to be his age mate, if not older.


    The boy¡¯s eyes looking cold and detached but with mixture of curiosity and caution.


    "Salvatore," the boss called out to the middle-aged man who was tied up and couldn¡¯t see due to his disoriented face. The kid¡¯s blood boiled over.


    "Don¡¯t you dare call his name!" Exclaimed the tied up fifteen year old.


    The man flicked his finger, and as expected, someone moved to shut the boy up.


    But it wasn¡¯t Daniil, who had been with them since the beginning. Instead, it was the man who had arrived with the boss.


    He walked towards a table, picking up a hot rod before walking back to the kid.


    Bending slightly to talk into the kid¡¯s ear, he whispered, "This is going to be painful." His breath sent shivers down the kid¡¯s spine as he instantly pressed the iron towards the kid¡¯s left face, and the skin began to burn, making the kid¡¯s scream echoed through the room....


    Ahhh.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Ahhh.... Jolting upright, my hands flying out to the left side of my face, feeling the rough scraps.


    It was just a dream, a dream of my past, that fucking nightmare keeps haunting me. The sheets drenched in sweat from me furiously sweating despite the air conditioner being on.


    I threw off the covers, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Planting my feets firmly on the ground.


    My chest heaving, still struggling to catch my breath. It was 13 years ago, stop acting like it was yesterday, telling myself that while sounding calmer than I felt.


    Moving my shaking hands to the side table, fumbling for my pack of cigarettes and lighter. I needed something to calm my nerves, to quiet the voices in my head.


    I brought out a cigarette, probing it into my mouth before trying to light up the lighter. But it flicked and died, refusing to spark. I tried again, but it still didn¡¯t work.


    "Oh, fuck off!" Growling the words out of frustration. I threw the lighter across the room with force.


    My hands raked through my hair, trying to push the memories away. "This would hurt a little," that damned voice echoed in my mind, making me flinch.


    "Ivan, stop, let my family go...." Get the hell out of my head! I clenched my fists, trying to shake off the memories. But they lingered, refusing to be silenced.


    In a fit of rage, I picked up the glass of whiskey near me and smashed it against the wall. The sound of it shattering was satisfying, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside me


    .


    I needed a distraction, something to shake off the lingering horror of the nightmare. But those ghosts from my past refused to be silenced. The memories of that fateful day continued to haunt me.


    The faces of that old couples etched into my mind like scars. I couldn¡¯t escape them, no matter how hard I tried. Always visiting me through my god-damned dream.


    Standing to my feet, I strode over to the wall mirror, my eyes fixed on the mask lying at the nearby table. I hated that mask, hated the way it concealed my face, hated the way it helped me cover the marks that made me remember Them.


    I picked it up, feeling the smooth leather beneath my fingers, looking over to the mirror, the glass reflecting my image.


    Those scars, the burnt marks glaring back at me, making me quickly lift the mask, before pressing it to my face.


    It molded to my skin, concealing the hideous mark that marred my left cheek and eye.


    Gazing at my reflection, the mask transforming me into a stranger, a creature without half a face or a past.


    I knew my destination, the one place that could distract me from the turmoil brewing inside. It wasn¡¯t far, just a few steps away. I needed the distraction, the escape. And I knew just the person who could now provide it.


    The bastard¡¯s daughter.

 Chapter 25: ★Who dared touch her without permission★

    Chapter 25: ¡ïWho dared touch her without permission¡ï


    ~Chapter 25~


    ROMEO


    Walking towards the door at the side of my room, the one that connected my space to hers.


    Gentle I pushed the door open, revealing the only room aside from mine on this floor I had assigned to her.


    I had specifically given her this room for its proximity and convenience to mine, as it easily allows me to get to her when needed.


    She had no idea that this door existed. I didn¡¯t have to exit my room and walk down the hallway to reach hers. This secret passage granted me easy access, allowing me to slip in and out unnoticed, like how I had been doing since she came.


    I entered her room, expecting to find her sleeping peacefully on her bed. But she wasn¡¯t there.


    The bed was empty, where was she? Walking towards the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar.


    There wasn¡¯t any sound coming out, and she couldn¡¯t be taking a bath at a time like this.


    Slowly, I pushed open the door, but the bathroom was empty too. The shower was dry, and the sink was spotless. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.


    Had she escaped? ~Hell, she can¡¯t, even if she tried~. My house security was top-notch, with state-of-the-art cameras, motion sensors, and guards patrolling the perimeter.


    The defense was hard to pass without being detected.


    And She doesn¡¯t have the balls, to try that. She was clever, but not clever enough to outsmart my security measures.


    It¡¯s time to play hide and seek, it seems. A grin spread across my face, I knew she was a good distraction. Always giving me entertainment.


    This would get my mind off that damaging nightmare as I walked back to my room and brought out my tablet from the bedside table, the screen springing to life as I tapped on it.


    Opening the security app displays the various camera feeds and sensor readings. I scrolled through the feeds, checking each room and corridor, searching for any sign of her. The cameras in the kitchen, library, and living room all showed empty spaces. I checked the garden cameras, but there was no sign of her among them.


    I even checked the cameras in the gym and spa, which I definitely knew she wouldn¡¯t be there and she wasn¡¯t there either.


    If she wasn¡¯t at all these places, then without a doubt, she was in someone¡¯s room, but who? I was about to rewind the tape when she left my room to know her whereabouts after that, but I saw a door opening in the third-floor hallway, and who I was looking for walked out, carefully but still walking like she was in haste.


    For the safety of my staff and families, there are cameras installed in every room, but they were not much checked because of privacy.


    Was she with one of the staff members, or had she somehow managed to sneak into one of the guest rooms? I was about to rewind the tape when she left my room and track her movements. Figuring out where she went next.


    Just as I was about to do so, through the table, I saw a door opening on the third-floor hallway, where most senior staff stays. My eyes narrowed, focusing on the feed.


    The girl I had been searching for walked out of the room, carefully but moving in haste. Her eyes darted back and forth, checking to make sure no one was watching, perhaps.


    Intrigued, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. What was she up to? And whose room was she fucking coming out from? My thoughts moved with different possibilities of what she was doing.


    Quickly, I walked out of her room, strolling into the elevator, not caring that I was half-dressed, wearing only joggers and no shirt. The cool air of the elevator caressed my skin as I stepped inside, pressing the button for the third floor.


    The doors slid open, my face darkening, stepping out into the third-floor hallway, spotting her immediately.


    She was walking back towards the same room, this time with a cup in her hand.


    What the hell was she doing with that? I looked over to the door she was walking to. Thinking whose room she¡¯s visiting so secretly?


    Fastening my pace, I strode towards her in quick steps, my bare feet barely making a sound on the carpet.


    I blocked the door before she could reach it, giving her a scare. She looked at me with wide eyes, almost dropping the cup to the floor. Her face paled, lips parted in surprise, and her breath caught in her throat.


    Taking in her disheveled appearance. She was dressed in an oversized tee shirt and shorts that swallowed her whole, making her appear even more fragile. Her face was sweaty, and her nose looked slightly crooked as if it had been recently injured. A bump on her forehead added to her overall air of vulnerability.


    My eyes drifted to her exposed neck, where the handprint bruise I had left earlier was still visible. However, noticed additional bruises that I knew I hadn¡¯t caused. These new bruises looked freshly made, and my mood darkened even more.


    Who dared touch her without my permission? Not like I cared if she died, but she was my slave, mine to do with as I pleased, and no one else¡¯s.


    Stepping closer, she moved backward, her eyes darting away from me. "Why weren¡¯t you in your room?" I asked, invading her personal space, my face inches from hers.


    She hit the wall, her back against it, and looked up at me. Her lips parted and closed like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words.


    "I... I...uh," she kept repeating, stuttering while looking at that damned door, as if willing someone to come out and save her. Who the fuck did she think would save her from me.


    I grabbed her by the face, harshly making her look at me. My fingers dug into her skin, and she winced. "Sneaking out in the night now, I see. I always knew you were a prostitute." Spitting the words without care, it cut through the air, and her eyes flashed with anger.


    But she knew better than to retaliate. She was my enemy, my enemy daughter, and I had been treating her way less than those who stole from me.


    She must know her place. "Who were you visiting? Who dared touch you without my permission?" My voice was cold as I held her hostage, pressed onto the wall.

 Chapter 26: ★Life isn’t fair★

    Chapter 26: ¡ïLife isn¡¯t fair¡ï


    ~Chapter 26~


    KATYA


    "Katya...dear." A voice woke me up from my slumber, almost falling off the small couch I was swished on.


    Slowly opening my eyes, I groggily looked around. The soft glow of the nightlight in the room made me blink softly.


    "Katya." My name was called again. Waking me up completely. Sitting up with a start while rubbing off the sleep from my eyes to see Miss Stella as she slowly tries to sit up from her lying form.


    I hurriedly stood from my uncomfortable spot, quickly walking towards her, helping her sit up.


    "What are you doing here?" she asked, confused, looking at me as I sat beside her on the bed, holding onto her arm. I leaned my head softly against her shoulder.


    "I came to watch over you. You suddenly fell, and I didn¡¯t want that to happen again." Miss Stella¡¯s gaze drifted off, her eyes clouding over with thick emotions as I explained.


    "Miss Stella," Called out softly, trying to bring her back to the present. "hmm" She hummed in response but her eyes still distant.


    "Are you sick?" I asked the question that had been nagging me inside since the moment she fell.


    Her hand froze in mine, and she slowly withdrew it, making me raise my head, concerned, and met her gaze.


    We just looked at each other, the atmosphere slowly shifting to an uncomfortable one. Her usual nice and sweet smile wasn¡¯t on her face, making me feel like I asked a question that wasn¡¯t supposed to be asked.


    "Miss Stella, please tell me what¡¯s wrong," Pleading, my voice barely audible but she heard. She had become like a mother figure to me, and seeing her like this was tearing me apart. Her gaze slowly dropped from me, and she began to say, "I¡¯m....I¡¯m.. Ahk....ahk." She coughed furiously, giving me a heart attack.


    And I sprang to my feet, my heart thudding with worry, scanning the room frantically for water but didn¡¯t see any.


    shit....shit...shit


    "I¡¯m coming, please, I¡¯m coming, let me go get water from the kitchen." I reassured her, trying to keep my voice calm as I quickly left her side, opening the door quietly before hurrying out into the hallway in haste.


    Thankfully I didn¡¯t see anyone in the hallway, saving me from some awkward questions about why I wasn¡¯t asleep.


    Miss Stella had given me strict instructions to not go out the hallways at night when I first came here, she said it was dangerous and I can be deemed as a spy but I don¡¯t care, right now all I¡¯m focused on was getting miss Stella water.


    I hastened my pace, retrieving the water and making my way back to miss Stella room while chanting in my head. please be okay.


    She was all I had in the messed up mansion, and anxiety was eating me up with how hesitant she was in tell me what¡¯s wrong.


    Almost reaching the door, a body swiftly blocked it, giving me the scare of my life. My heart dropped out my chest as I stumbled backward, the water almost splashing out from the glass.


    I gasped, my eyes widening in surprise as I took in the towering figure before me. ~Mr Salvatore~ He stood half-naked with just some loose joggers hanging low on his waist, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his toned abdomen.


    His gaze swept over me, lingering on my disheveled appearance. A flush rose to my cheeks as I stand frozen in my oversized tee shirt and shorts. His eyes drifted to my neck, and I mine involuntarily went to his exposed chest.


    Where a stunning rose tattoo sprawled across his skin.


    The design began on his left chest, curving elegantly up towards his neck, where a single rose that looks to be falling sat, the tattoo moved around his muscles highlighting them further.


    He stepped closer, his face inches from mine with a darkened expression. My eyes darted around the hallway, searching for an escape as I stepped back. "Why weren¡¯t you in your room?" His voice low and very menacing.


    My back hit the wall with a thud and looked up at him, my eyes couldn¡¯t looked at him in the eyes and I can¡¯t look at his chest too. My lips parted, but no words came out.


    Only stuttering, "I... I...uh," my eyes going over to miss Stella door, hoping she was still alright and good.


    My face was grapped harsh in a tight grip, his fingers digging into my skin, making me wince, trying to pull away.


    "Sneaking out in the night now, I see. I always knew you were a prostitute," he spat, his words cutting deep within me. My eyes flashed with anger, and I was about raising my hands to throw a quick but deadly slap.


    But then, I remember who I was, I was his slave, a worthless being. Deserving of all the hate in the world and all the pain. My father must be laughing at me from his grave, seeing how much I¡¯m still suffering.


    Tear pricked around my eyes, ~no, don¡¯t show weakness, it only leads to more pain~ But everything is so painful, from the day I was born everything was hard.


    Now, to add to the deep injury. I¡¯m being called a prostit...ahh. The words were deep, like a knife twisting and twisting in my guts.


    His grip tightened, his eyes blazing with fury as he asked in a possessive tone that made my stomach turn."Who were you visiting? Who dared touch you without my permission?" His voice was cold. But how dare he?.


    How dare he call me that and still ask about who I was visiting? Why did he even care? I¡¯m his slave, for crying out loud.


    If I was a prostitute, it was none of his fucking business. I wanted to scream all that in his face, to tell him to back the fuck off and leave me the hell alone. But I withheld my anger.


    Biting it back like a bitter pill. Miss Stella was still in her room, and I didn¡¯t want to disturb her. Nor did I need to waste more time on this conversation as she needs water.


    "I¡¯m sorry," I muttered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I wasn¡¯t sorry, not one bit. Not in this life or the next.


    But I had to act pitiful, just like I had been forced to do my whole life.


    Always scared, always waiting for the next my next beating session and the next blow to fall onto me.


    An exhausting, living like this was not worth living. But what choice did I have?


    Tried countless times to self harm but still survived. Tried finding many ways to survive this nightmare but was still dragged back.


    Almost beaten to my death but survived that too. Tried to act tough for my death to come quickly but that only seems to amuse the devil to let me live more.


    No matter how hard I tried, I always survived. Always managing to cling to life even when it was cruel to me.


    Life isn¡¯t fair and I¡¯d learned the hard way, taught that lesson over and over, until it was seared into my very soul.


    ??


    Sick but surviving, I¡¯m trying to write many Chapters and mass release them but my body isn¡¯t working please bare with me the 2 Chapters a day. ):


    Thanks for reading

 Chapter 27: ★Looking like a defeated man★

    Chapter 27: ¡ïLooking like a defeated man¡ï


    ~Chapter 27~


    "You¡¯re sorry?" He growled, using his free hand to grab my face. "So you really are a prostitute, apologizing for what?" His grip was crushing and so was his words making my jaw and heart ache.


    Why couldn¡¯t he just leave me alone? Why did he care? I tried to push him away, but he swished me more.


    Slamming me against the wall, making the water in the glass I was holding fall to the floor with a loud splash, the glass falling down too.


    "No...no," I stared back up at him in horror. His face was twisted into a snarl. He looked like he¡¯d lost all grip on reality. His calm and collected face wasn¡¯t there, he looks insane, has he lost his damned mind?


    "I¡¯m sorry for not staying in my room. But Miss Stella is very ill, and she needs my assistance right now." My words tumbled out, frantically rushing it out as he continued to squeeze me, my face throbbing with pain, it was definitely getting a new bruise.


    Does he take pleasure in painting me with bruises? Was this some kind of guilty pleasure.


    "I need yours," he hissed, gazing at me with a fleeting emotion I couldn¡¯t quite decipher. it was an emotion I was sure he didn¡¯t possess with his attitude.


    But the emotion left quickly, replaced by the familiar darkness that simmer around him


    He began pressing his body into mine, his chest crushing me against the wall. His heat radiating against me, making my skin crawl in fear.


    I tried, pushing him away, using both arms to shove against his abdomen. The flush deepened around my face, reaching to my ears too as I struggled to free myself. My eyes darted towards all over, searching for an escape or a distraction.


    "What¡¯s going on?" A husky voice rang out from the hallway. Snapping my head towards it to see, Mr Antonio, oh praise God.


    Mr Antonio looked to be a man with sympathy and I silently thanked the universe for bringing him here at this critical time. Even though I¡¯m not so sure if I¡¯m safe yet.


    He stepped closer to us, looking down to the shattered glass and spilled water.


    Must be wondering what the hell happened and why the position we¡¯re in right now. His expression turned quizzical. Could almost see the questions racing through his mind.


    "Romeo." Mr. Antonio deep voice called out to Mr Salvatore who was now burying his face onto my neck. What the heck is he doing.


    Mr. Salvatore didn¡¯t flinch nor move from his name being called. Instead, he snarled out a word, "Fuck off." His cold breath fanned my neck, making all the hair around it stand up.


    A chill run down my spine as I wondered if he was going to bite me. He eats human, I thought, remembering the head gift and the finger I saw on his sink. No wonder but my neck was still bruised, and the thought of being bitten and the additional pain sent panic through me.


    I don¡¯t want to be bitten, my neck is still bruised, get away.


    Just as all hope was getting lost, he was harshly pulled away from me and I almost fell, not realizing he was the one holding me up.


    Watching in relief as Mr. Antonio held onto a struggling Romeo~ Mr Antonio called him that~ who looked like he¡¯d lost all control.


    "I said fuck off, old man," Romeo face was twisted into a snarl as he exclaimed, trying to push Mr. Antonio away. He almost landed a hard blow to Mr. Antonio¡¯s face, but the older man dodged it with ease.


    "It¡¯s alright, everything is fine, calm down, calm down, Rome," Mr. Antonio spoke softly to my tormentor, who was whispering words, but I couldn¡¯t quite hear as he was now far from me.Mr. Antonio was talking too, but in Italian.


    "What¡¯s going on?" I couldn¡¯t stop myself from asking, my curiosity getting the better of me. Mr. Salvatore looked so disoriented, so unlike himself.


    He seems so lost, so powerless. He wasn¡¯t facing me but with his shoulder slump and not carried up high, he looked like he had lost it.


    Mr. Antonio looked over to me, his expression stern. "It¡¯s none of your business, please carry on with what you were doing." With that, he began walking away, Mr. Salvatore still struggling in his grasp. I watched them go, my mind reeling with questions.


    None of my business? Nut that makes me more curious to know what the hell just happened.


    One moment, he was trying to...I shuddered at the memory ~Eat me~...and the next, he looked so defeated in Mr. Antonio¡¯s grip.


    It¡¯s none of your business, Katya get yourself together. I reminded myself sternly, shaking off the lingering fear but the phrase only served to pique my curiosity further.


    Where was the monster who gifted me a head, crazy how this house always gives me the unexpected circumstances. First Miss red the witch, hit her head and became nice to me and now my tormentor behaving weird, I can¡¯t even place what attitude he displayed.


    .


    You need to get Miss Stella her water. Oh shit, the words flashed through my mind, jolting me back to reality. Reminding me of Miss Stella and my abandoned task.


    How could I have forgotten about her in the midst of all this chaos? I rushed back to the kitchen, grabbing a new glass of water.


    Hurrying back to her room, making a mental note to return to the hallway and clean up the broken glass later.


    For now, I needed to go help Miss Stella. She was coughing furiously and I forgot about her, how stupid can I be? What if her condition had worsened while I was distracted?


    I pushed open the door to her room, water glass in hand, and stepped inside. Prepared to tend to her.


    But only to find her back asleep, on her bed, looking good and fine.


    Shit!

 Chapter 28: ★Must fight the sweetness★

    Chapter 28: ¡ïMust fight the sweetness¡ï


    ~Chapter 28~


    Waking up with a start, my mind still comprehending the events of the previous day.


    I had planned to ask Miss Stella about her health, but as I sat up in bed, she was nowhere to be found. She beats me to it. I looked up at the clock on the wall and was shocked to see that it was already 7:00 am.


    Shit! I had overslept.


    The average wake-up time for the maids was 5:00 am, followed by breakfast at 6:00 am before the chores.


    But Miss Stella as the head maid, had apparently let me sleep in. I wondered why she hadn¡¯t woken me up as usual.


    I quickly threw off the covers ~i didn¡¯t remember putting it on~ and ran out of bed.


    Bed? When had I left the small couch. This was not the time thinking. I sprinted up the stairs and towards my room


    My mind focused on getting ready for the day. As I reached my door, I noticed that my tormentor¡¯s door was open, but I didn¡¯t have time to worry about that now. I quickly jammed my door closed and peeked through the small hole to see him dressed to perfection.


    He was wearing a sleek black suit and a coat over it. His signature mask plastered on his face, and he loosely held a mobile phone in his hand, walking out of the room and towards the elevator, disappearing from view.


    I was taken aback by his calm demeanor. He¡¯s fine now? I thought, remembering his bizarre behavior just some hours ago.


    Unlike some hours ago, when he was acting all weird, shaking off the thought, not having time to dwell on it.


    I turned my attention to the bathroom, my favorite place. Having not taken a proper bath for most of my life, this was a luxury I savored. I took my time washing up and dressing in my maid uniform, which was still a bit too big for me.


    Making my way down to the kitchen, I passed by the other maids, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact. I didn¡¯t know what the day had in store and I doubt it was going to favor me.


    This mansion was always full of surprises, and I had learned to be prepared for anything. My heart beats a little bit faster as I approached Miss Stella, who welcomed me with a warm smile.


    "Good morning, Katya, How was your sleep, dear?" She was stationed near the stove, expertly preparing the breakfast for the higher-ups, no doubt.


    The aroma wafted through the air, making my stomach growl with hunger. I went over to the sink washing my hands, which was mandatory ~Miss Stella kitchen, miss Stella rules, as she had said.~ Smiling to myself as I scrubbed my hands clean while answering her question.


    "It was good." I replied, moving back towards her, and she gave me a hand towel. I helped her with the things she needed, while pondering on how I would bring up the conversation about her health.


    Noticing that she still looked a bit frail, and I wanted to make sure she was okay and what was bothering her.


    Her usual warm smile looked slightly forced, "Miss Stella," I said, softly. Hesitating to broach the subject.


    But before I could continue, she interrupted me by shoveling a generous portion of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon onto a plate.


    "Eat this, dear," she said, her voice firm but gentle, as she pushed the plate towards me.


    The savory aromas wafting from the plate were enticing, but should i prioritize my concern for Miss Stella¡¯s health over my growling stomach.


    "Miss Stella, I¡ª" She cut me off again.


    "Eat first, talk later," she said, mischievously nudging the plate closer to me. Oh this woman was hiding something from me. I snatched the plate, quickly shoving the food down my throat.


    It was the best meal I¡¯d had in forever- Miss Stella¡¯s cooking was always top-notch, and I treasured every bite.


    While I ate, some of the other maids began arranging the meals onto the trolley, but my attention went over to Miss Stella.


    She was arranging hers, while throwing me some few glances and smile that wasn¡¯t really reassuring to me.


    I could sense her relief that I wasn¡¯t pressing her for answers - yet. But I was far from satisfied.


    As soon as I finished this delicious meal, I¡¯d be back to questioning her, no matter how amazing the food tasted~must fight the sweetness~. This time, I wouldn¡¯t let her evade my questions so easily.


    Finishing up the last bit of food on my plate, I let out a contented sigh, feeling the satisfying warmth spreading through my chest.


    The meal I finished was a masterpiece, a huge pile of food -I was shocked at how my small mouth had been able to finish it all. My stomach must¡¯ve expanded to accommodate the generous portions, but I still crave another bite


    Snap out of it, Katya! That¡¯s exactly what her meal wanted - to distract me from questioning her. I stood up quickly, shaking my head to clear the haze.


    As soon as Miss Stella began pushing the first trolley out the kitchen door, I followed suit, grasping the handle of the second trolley and giving it a gentle push.


    The soft rattle of dishes and the muted hum of conversation from the other maids followed us.


    Miss Stella walked ahead of me, her back straight but what caught my attention was that she wasn¡¯t looking back at me. Why? Was she avoiding me? Did she know that I was onto her. Of course she must have noticed.


    We reached the doors and pushed them open, walking into the hall. We began arranging the table with the food and I stepped closer to Miss Stella.


    But just as I was about to speak, she turned away from me, her eyes avoiding mine. Not this time. My hand reaches out to gently grasp her arm.


    Whispering, in a small voice "What¡¯s going on. Something seems to be really bothering you or is it my question about you being sick?" Miss Stella¡¯s eyes snapped to mine, her expression stern.


    "Nothing is bothering me, dear," Firmly, she replied. The "dear" was a little forced, and There was a warning beneath her words.


    I withdrew my arm, not wanting to push her further.


    She looked like she was holding back a storm, and that¡¯s not what I needed. I stepped back from her, casting my eyes down in a gesture of apology.


    "I¡¯m sorry for asking," I said quietly. "Please forgive me. I won¡¯t ask anymore." Miss Stella sighed, her expression softening as she walked towards me but the door pushed open revealing the higher ups walking.


    All the maids quickly dropped their heads down, and I did too, remembering the last time I didn¡¯t.


    From the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Red walking into the room, her red bright hair unmistakable between the crowd.


    We all~maids~ began leaving, watching as the higher ups walked towards their seats but before I passed through. My eyes met miss red and she exclaimed, "Hi!"

 Chapter 29: ★Life can’t be more surprising★

    Chapter 29: ¡ïLife can¡¯t be more surprising¡ï


    ~Chapter 29~


    "Hi!" Her voice cut through the atmosphere. Why is she greeting me. I smiled awkwardly at her, still maintaining the fac?ade of a demure maid as she walked towards me with a smile.


    Don¡¯t tell me, she¡¯s still knocked out with the blow to her head. She didn¡¯t sleep to wake up and remember what happened.


    Everyone was seated, and the other maids had already left the hall, busying themselves with their morning chores.


    Miss Stella, in particular, didn¡¯t even glance back at me, which shows a clear indication that she didn¡¯t want to discuss her health further. Her avoidance and quick departure left me with more questions than answers but Miss red kept me saying.


    "Let¡¯s meet up after breakfast," She leaned in, talking in a voice that sounded threatening but still not threatening. is she finally in her senses. Before I could respond, she spun around, didn¡¯t wait for my reply. How rude? She¡¯s seemingly taking my silence as an agreement.


    Did she just assume I wanted to meet up? I scoffed. Never, in my wildest dreams, would I agree to meet with her voluntarily.


    She was the last person I wanted to cross paths with, let alone intentionally seek out. She was just going to give me a beating that might lead to my death if we met up.


    How stupid did she think I was, wanting to meet up with her? Shaking my head in disgust. I knew better than to trust her saccharine smile and sugary tone.


    I spun around, hastily exiting the hall. Having no intention of making it easy for her to find me.


    From now on, I¡¯d be on high alert, dodging her at every turn. She wasn¡¯t going to see me again unless we accidentally crossed paths. And even then, I¡¯d make sure to be prepared.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The avoider has become the avoided. That¡¯s my current predicament. I¡¯ve been dodging Miss Red, while simultaneously searching for Miss Stella.


    Every time I catch a glimpse of Miss Stella, she expertly evades me, leaving me more hurt.


    Thankfully, I¡¯ve managed to steer clear of Miss Red so far; if our paths had crossed, my day would have been utterly ruined.


    Miss Stella¡¯s avoidance hurts the most. She used to take me under her wing, including me in her daily routine, but now, she¡¯s nowhere to be found.


    Her absence and avoidance creates a gaping void.


    Right now, I¡¯m with some other maids, cleaning the fourth floor, which houses the gym and what other maids told me called a spa which is pretty cool, this house was big and got many things.


    Most of the maids rave about the spa, describing how amazing it looked like and how it was luxury at its finest.


    This mansion never ceases to amaze me; it was big and has many cool things. ~Sad thing was we¡¯re maids, we couldn¡¯t afford it even if we sneak in.~


    We walk closer to the spa area, with my curiosity pricking. I peek inside, and my heart dropped as my eyes land on Miss Red, who¡¯s looking directly at me.


    Fuck. My instincts scream at me to retract my gaze, but it¡¯s too late. She springs up from the comfortable chair she was lounging in, her eyes never leaving mine.


    A maid was kneeling beside her, massaging her leg, but Miss Red dismisses her with a wave of her hand, walking towards me. Wrapped in a plush robe, that accentuates her curves perfectly.


    A sly smile spreads across her face, as she reaches over to me, "You¡¯re avoiding me, huh?" she says, her tone dripping with amusement.


    Great, she¡¯s got straight to the point. That¡¯s good, I suppose. Now that she knows, can she just leave me the hell alone?


    But nope, she grasped my arms firmly and dragged me into the room, not even bothering to wait for my response. Again!


    Does she derive some sort of twisted pleasure from disregarding others¡¯ opinions and doing as she pleases?


    I didn¡¯t resist as she pulled me along, casting a helpless glance at the other maids who continued with their tasks, traitors.


    She marched me back to her seat and nudged me into the chair beside her. "So, why have you been avoiding me?" she asked, while the maid resumed her task, massaging Miss Red¡¯s leg.


    I conjured up my most convincing confused expression, feigning ignorance. "No, no...no, no, Miss Adelasia, I..."


    Awkwardly faking a confused face and made the most innocent, like I had no clue on what she¡¯s talking about me avoiding her. "No, no..no.no. miss Adelasia, I..."


    "Adelasia," she interrupted, sharply, making me inwardly scoffed at the correction before continuing.


    "Adelasia, I wasn¡¯t avoiding you. As you know, I¡¯m a maid, and I have chores to attend to. I was actually planning to look for you as soon as I finished my tasks." I threw the biggest lie my brain could function out at the moment and I mentally patted myself on the back for concocting this outrageous lie.


    Hoping it was convincing enough to fool her. She gazed at me with narrowed eyes, her expression unreadable. Worried that she¡¯d seen right through my deception I tried breaking eye contact.


    But she nodded her head with smile playing on her lips as she raised a hand, and a new maid hurried over to us.


    "Tend to Katya," Miss Red instructed.


    What! She wants me to be pampered and indulged, just like her?


    Oh lord, have I somehow activated a dormant soft spot within her? Perhaps the blow to her head had knocked some sense into her, or maybe she¡¯d suffered a brief moment of insanity.


    Hadn¡¯t she been hell-bent on tormenting me just a few days before? I exchanged a wary glance with the new maid, who looked just as perplexed as I was.


    The maid told me to follow her and I stood up, leaving miss red who still smiled at me.


    Life can¡¯t get more surprising.

 Chapter 30: ★Club?★

    Chapter 30: ¡ïClub?¡ï


    ~Chapter 30~


    The maid escorted me to a decorated room. She handed me a plush robe, telling me to change out of my maid¡¯s uniform.


    Slipping into the luxurious fabric, making me feel like royalty. I approached the full-length mirror.. The robe was colored yellow, and it complemented my eyes perfectly.


    I burst out, laughing at the absurdity of it all. The laughter caught me off guard, and I quickly managed to compose myself, suppressing the giggles.


    Maybe I should go confess my sins and tell them to take her to the hospital to check on her head.


    Because, What! My blow to her head might have somehow altered her behavior. It was the only explanation for this sudden change.


    My mind wandered back to the night and I remembered the vase I had broken. Someone would have definitely seen it, as I hadn¡¯t cleaned it up.


    They would know what had gone down. No, gosh, who would know? Get your mind off this, I told myself.


    Taking a deep breath and letting go of my worries. I walked out of the room. The maid was waiting for me, her expression neutral. "Right this way," she said, gesturing for me to follow her.


    We made our way down a short corridor, before she pushed open a door, revealing another room. That was thick with amazing smells.The room was littered with some glowing candles created that created a peaceful space..


    A table stood in the center of the room, surrounded by various equipment and products. A lady, dressed in a white uniform, greeted me with a warm smile.


    "Welcome. Please, lie down on the table, and we¡¯ll begin your treatment." i glance back to the maid who brought me here but she merely shrugged and whispered, "Just go with it."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    i definitely went with it, the lady knows what she was doing because as soon as I lay down, I went to heaven.


    The table I thought was just a table was vibrating.


    Literally, how! We have vibrating tables. The lady¡¯s skilled hands began to work their magic, rubbing a soothing oil into my skin.


    Her fingers danced across my back and she paused, "Did you have an accident?" she asked, in concern and I tensed, instinctively guarding my secrets of how I got those scars.


    "Oh, no... just a minor mishap, I fell," I replied, forcing a casual tone, who would be proud to say they had an abusive father. No one and I¡¯m hell bent in forgetting him so anything about him should just be gone, really.


    She didn¡¯t press the issue as she focused on the bruises on my neck, her fingers tracing the tender skin. "And these? Did you get those from the fall" she asked, soft but probing.


    And I frown, finding myself spinning another lie."I... uh... bumped into a door," I stammered, hoping the explanation sounded plausible.


    She let it drop, focusing on easing the tension from my muscles and I let out a breath, feeling the treatment progressed.


    Letting all my worries and fears melt away, replacing them with this new found relaxation.


    Having miss red behaving like this didn¡¯t seem so bad after all.


    Hours passed before I sensed a presence in the room. I opened my eyes to find Miss Red standing beside me, watching me with an enigmatic smile. What does she want now.


    The lady stepped aside, and Miss Red¡¯s moved closer. "Time for fun," she exclaimed and a mischievous tone was on her voice.


    She grasped my hand, pulled me up from the table with a strength that still surprised me and I quickly thanked the lady, who smiled warmly before we left her behind.


    Miss Red and I walked out of the spa room, still clad in the plush robes, and made our way to the elevator. Technically she was dragging me.


    We moved into the elevator, with me wondering what Miss Red had planned. She pressed the elevator buttons and we glided smoothly to whatever destination, she had decided.


    The doors slid open, and she grasped my arm again, pulling me toward a door at the end of a hallway.


    Without hesitation, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, dragging me behind, slightly, taken aback by her sudden movements.


    The room was painted a deep, rich red, and its beauty took my breath away ~literally~ The space was huge, almost as large as my own room, but mine was bigger. ~Shocker~


    Miss Red plopped me down onto her bed, leaving me there as she moved toward a door on the opposite side of the room, disappearing from view.


    Stunned, I sat there, my eyes fixed on the door Miss Red had disappeared into. My mind was swirling with questions. Why had she brought me here? And, most pressing of all, should I make a run for it?


    My gaze drifted to the exit door, tempting. I could just slip out, make my way back to my own room or the maids and forget this whole strange encounter.


    Slowly, I stood up from the bed, walking over to the door, my hand reaching out to grasp the handle.


    Just as I was about to turn it, the door Miss Red had disappeared into swung open. I quickly spun around, acting nonchalant.


    Focusing my attention on a nearby picture, studying it intently as if I¡¯d been doing so all along.


    My heart was racing, but I tried to keep my expression calm. The picture I was looking at was a man and a woman holding onto a baby, that I assume who be Adelasia.


    But they were all dark haired which means, Miss red dyed her hair. Shocking because the red fitted her very well and it didn¡¯t really showed that she dyed it.


    Her voice broke me from my continuous act like she hasn¡¯t come into the room,"What are you doing there? Come here," Demanding obedience as usual.


    I turned to face her, seeing as she dropped two dresses down onto the bed. "We are going to a club!" Her voice was high pitched, showing how excited it was and I¡¯m doomed


    What¡¯s a club?

 Chapter 31: ★Now shut up and let’s go have fun★

    Chapter 31: ¡ïNow shut up and let¡¯s go have fun¡ï


    ~Chapter 31~


    "What¡¯s a club?" I asked, like the naive fool I was.


    Miss Red¡¯s eyebrows arched upward in disdain. She looked at me as if I¡¯d just admitted to not knowing how to breathe, her expression screaming ~ You must be fucking with me~


    "Really, you¡¯re joking," she said. But I was genuinely confused. I¡¯d never heard of a club, and my not knowing looked to be amusing her.


    Shaking her head, she sighed and walked over to me "Poor people don¡¯t even know what a club is called now. Shame." Ouch, her words stung, but i brushed it off. After all, I knew she liked belittling people.


    She grasped my arm, pulling me toward a chair in front of a mirror. Once I was seated, she began rummaging through a bag, pulling out various products.


    "Don¡¯t worry about not knowing what a club is," she said, slightly softer. "But I promise you, you will love it." She started applying things to my face, making me uncomfortable with the sensation of her touching me and I tried pulling away.


    But she held me firm,. "Hold still," she demanded, continuing her work on my face.


    I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror and I gasped, barely recognizing the person staring back at me. Miss Red was transforming me into someone else, someone more beautiful and sophisticated.


    What¡¯s she doing to me?, she added a powdered something on my face making me cough out, sneezing. "Oops" she giggled, making me laugh out to at the face she made.


    Apart from her - everyone attention on me character-, she was actually someone to be with. I slowly felt comfortable around her as she continued her task in transforming my ugliness to something else.


    Miss Red stepped back, picking up a brush and began pulling all the tangles on my hair, she spray some things which smelled amazing.


    "You look stunning," she said, stepping out to admire her handiwork. I saw my reflection and I could barely recognize the person staring back at me.


    My face wasn¡¯t mine, the lady looking back at me was drop-dead gorgeous.


    The hair, oh, the hair! Don¡¯t let me go there. My unruly white locks, which always resembled a bird¡¯s nest, now cascaded down my back in luscious waves, framing my face and falling over my shoulders.


    "How?" The words escaped my lips, barely audible. Miss Red smiled, clearly pleased with herself.


    "Makeup, the power of makeup," she said, laughing as she met my gaze in the mirror. "It¡¯s magic, isn¡¯t it?" she added.


    Make up? That¡¯s the magic, if so the it¡¯s a very powerful magic. Because damn, look at my face!


    Mesmerized, I watched as Miss Red began to work on her own face. She added some powder and some other stuffs, enhancing her natural beauty.


    "I only added a bit of powder blush and lip gloss," she said, attaching a long, luscious lash to her natural lashes, she didn¡¯t add those on me. "You¡¯re already looking good, so I didn¡¯t need to add much." Ahh, did she just indirectly compliment me? i stuck a loose strand behind my ears.


    Her makeup was flawless, but it looked like she had added more than just a bit of powder and lip gloss. I watched, fascinated, as she worked her magic.


    Some minutes later, She finally turned to face me fully, and I gushed at her stunning beauty. Her face looked like a work of art, with perfectly contoured cheekbones, luscious lashes, and a bold, red lip. She was a looker, no doubt about it.


    The look on her face was ~ don¡¯t come near me face~


    she spoke up. "Don¡¯t say anything, I know I¡¯m fucking hot!" She praised herself in self-admiration. what a self centered girl she is. I looked at her, some people can¡¯t change even if they were hit by a vase.


    I just smiled, amused by her antics as she grasped my arm, pulling me up from the chair and dragging me toward the bed, where she had laid out some clothes.


    She picked up a gold-colored gown, and pushed it in front of me, her eyes scrutinizing my frame as if sizing me up for a fashion show.


    "Change into this," she said, firmly but excited too. Pushing me into a room and I obediently entered,


    The room was a treasure trove of fashion delights. it was huge and filled with clothes, shoes and anything you could find for fashion.


    Looking down at the gown still clutched in my arm, I began to undress the robe I was on.


    Wearing the gown, I found it as a challenge. The zipper refused to budge, and the dress kept shrinking before my eyes.


    It was damned short, barely covering my bum. Who designs clothes like this? I couldn¡¯t zip it up and the fabric didn¡¯t pass my bum more than an inch.


    This wasn¡¯t a dress at all, as it barely covered anything. I moved out the room and walked to the bedroom, all the while tugging the dress down, but it stubbornly sprang back up.


    Miss Red was already dressed in a stunning dark green gown that matches her eyes. Her dress was even shorter than mine, but she carried it off with so much confidence.


    She looked over to the sound of the room door opening, "Look at you, already looking rich," she said, walking over to me. She turned me around, zipping up the gown despite my protests.


    The dress was choking the air out of me, it was tight and short, a very uncomfortable combination.


    And I spoke up, I can¡¯t let her force me into a dress I have never worn, nor am I comfortable with.


    "This is ridiculous," I began, trying to reason with her. "It¡¯s too short, and I can barely breathe. Like literally I can¡¯t breath."She looked unmoved but annoyed too as She stood before me, finished wearing her shoes before saying,


    "Be grateful. I¡¯m helping a maid like you to have a fun day. Now, shut up and let¡¯s go have fun." Her expression darkened, clearly tell me to dare her.


    What had I gotten myself into?

 Chapter 32: ★Out of the mansion★

    Chapter 32: ¡ïOut of the mansion¡ï


    ~Chapter 32~


    She grasp my arm, dragging me firmly with her long crimson-painted nails digging deep into my flesh.


    The pressure was almost painful, but I¡¯d grown accustomed to her tight grip. My arm had somewhat become her favorite dragging toy.


    With her free hand, she picked up her, black purse, its green clasp glinting in the light. The purse perfectly complemented her stunning outfit to this club she was forcefully taking me to. the outfit hugged her curves in all the right places.


    She walked out her room, moving towards the elevator, her high heels clicking against the polished floor.


    Her heels wereat least five inches high, and they made her legs look endless. I struggled to keep up, my feet awkwardly squeezed into a pair of uncomfortable white high heels.


    The shoes looked beautiful, with straps and sparkling buckles, but they were not made for someone like me.


    They were too high, and too uncomfortable, my ankles were wobbling endlessly as I tried to match Miss Red¡¯s pace.


    "Keep up," said the witch, not even slow down, and I almost found myself almost falling, trying to keep up with her.


    This shoes were killing me, but I knew better than to complain as we entered the elevator and she pressed a button.


    While I moved to the wall leaning on it and looking down at my feets that were almost dead from the wicked shoes.


    Ding, my arm was grabbed again and I was pulled out the elevator, we emerged into the entrance, the last ground floor where the doors to exit where located.


    We are going out the mansion? This is starting to feel great, a small smile spread across my lips thinking of going out this daunting house even if it¡¯s just to take fresh air. I appreciate it.


    She dragged me towards the door and this time I obediently comply, cause why not.


    Pushing open the door, we stepped out and was met by those two guards I had met that time of my failed attempt to escape.


    They looked down at us, but Miss red just strode pass them, holding me closer to her and I didn¡¯t protest. The huge looking men did nothing and surprising let us go.


    A car was parked at the front and I assumed she had already made all this planned out from the start as the doors was open for us and I entered alongside miss red.


    We settled into the car and my arm was released from her grip. Finally!


    The driver glanced at us in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road.


    Miss Red leaned back in her seat, her eyes fixed on me, making me squirm. "So, are you excited?" she asked.


    Excited? Was I supposed to be excited about being dragged out of the mansion against my will?


    But something about Miss Red¡¯s demeanor put me on edge, and I didn¡¯t want to provoke her. Why did she still look and sound intimidating even when having a minor brain accident.


    "A little," I said finally and her smile grew wider. "Good. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re enthusiastic. We¡¯re going to have a fantastic time tonight."


    The car abruptly came to a stop and I looked out, to see a huge gate, we were still on the estate as I turned to see how the mansion looked like.


    it was huge, fucking huge. it was painted black with a touch of gold. I saw some other houses, scattered across, the estate. They all looked kind of the same as the main house Miss Stella had said.


    But they were a little small and at a distance too. From my view, I could count at least five houses already.


    A man dressed in a black suit, holding onto a gun, walked towards the driver¡¯s door. The driver¡¯s window wound down, and the man spoke in Italian, his voice firm but polite. "Permesso?" I heard him say to the driver and I couldn¡¯t understand.


    The driver was about to respond when Miss Red beats him to it, her voice laced with irritation.


    She wound down her side window and spoke in a sharp tone, "I gave the permission, now get the fuck out of my face and open that damned gate." She gave dismissive flick of her wrist but the guard didn¡¯t flinch.


    "Are you deaf?" Miss Red shouted, her anger boiling over. The guard still didn¡¯t move, his gun held loosely in his hand, not caring about Adelasia outburst.


    That instantly annoyed her. Her face reddened with rage as she pushed open the door and stepped out, facing the guard head-on.


    I watched in shock as she threw a slap straight at the guard¡¯s face. The sound echoed through the air, but the guard didn¡¯t react, his eyes just narrowed, showing his irritation to reciprocate.


    "Call my cousin," Miss Red demanded.


    "He¡¯s unavailable at the moment." said the guard and Miss Red¡¯s face twisted in frustration as she wiped out her phone from her purse.


    Her fingers flying across the screen, typing out a message or something with lightning speed.


    She held the phone to her ear, tapping her leg impatiently on the ground. "Antonio, esco. Di¡¯ a questi cani di lasciarmi andare. (Antonio, I¡¯m going out. Tell these dogs to let me go)," she spoke in Italian and the only word I could understand was "Antonio," and I assumed she was speaking with Mr. Antonio.


    Mr. Antonio was her cousin? I was taken aback, confused and perplexed, my mind trying to conjure this information.


    How could they be related when their interaction was hard? I recalled the tension between them, that fateful day at the dinner hall when Miss Red¡¯s eyes flashed with anger and she called him stupid. Mr Antonio and her are definitely not looking to be in good terms but they are cousins, how?


    Well to be honest, I¡¯m not supposed to be judging when literally my own father was abusive to his daughter. My father¡¯s abuse still lingered in my memory, a painful reminder that family ties didn¡¯t always guarantee love or loyalty.


    I pushed aside these thoughts, focusing on the present moment. Adelasia, still seething with anger, climbed back into the car.


    The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity and Finally, the gates was open, and our car glided smoothly through the entrance.


    We emerged on the other side, and I fixed my eyes out the window, watching as we got further and further away from the gates.


    "We¡¯re out," whispering, the words barely audible as Adelasia¡¯s gaze flicked toward me, her expression unreadable.


    But I didn¡¯t care. We were out of the mansion, away from the oppressive atmosphere that had suffocated me for so long. Anything was possible now, including my escape plan


    Yes!

 Chapter 33: ★Whats your name cutie★

    Chapter 33: ¡ïWhats your name cutie¡ï


    ~Chapter 33~


    Moving further and further away from the estate. The trees grew closer together, casting deep shadows that made it difficult to see.


    The car¡¯s headlights illuminated the winding road, revealing glimpses of the forest¡¯s dense atmosphere.


    Miss Red¡¯s gaze was now fixed on me, her expression unreadable. I tried avoiding her eyes, focusing instead on the passing scenery.


    The car turned a corner, and the trees parted to reveal a narrow clearing that led to the main road.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Thirty minutes or close to an hour passed in silence. Miss Red spent the time typing away on her phone or watching videos, her face bathed in the soft glow of the screen.


    I was left to the peace and quiet of the car ride, which I appreciated. The silence was a welcome from the tension and anxiety that had been building inside me.


    Finally, the car slowed to a stop in front of a massive building. The entrance was gleaming with silver doors and a crimson carpet that stretched out like a bloody tongue. A sign above the door was written in bold letters.


    The driver called out, "We¡¯re here," and opened the door for Miss Red. She pocketed her phone into her purse and grabbed my arm. Can¡¯t she just rest with the grabbing?


    "Let¡¯s go," She pulled me out of the car, and I stumbled, my high heels catching on the pavement. Miss Red¡¯s grip tightened, holding me upright, but I struggled to regain my balance as the high, deathly shoes were killing me with every step.


    As we walked closer to the entrance, loud music was thumping through the doors and growing louder, making my heart pound in my chest.


    Two imposing men, stood guard at the entrance, their faces stern. Miss Red pulled out a golden card from her purse and flashed it at them, and immediately, their expressions changed, becoming deferential and respectful.


    Instantly, they pushed the doors open, and the loud music assaulted my ears, making me wince. "Welcome to Club Eclipse," Miss Red said, her voice dripping with excitement, as she pulled me inside with her.


    Her grip on my arm tightened before her excited tone changed with a warning. "A club exclusive for the rich," she whispered in my ear, "so don¡¯t disgrace me."


    The door closed shut behind us, enveloping us in the pulsating music and the sea of bodies. The crowd was huge, with people dressed in more revealing clothes than what I was wearing.


    Nodding to her with a surge of anxiety. This was not my scene. The music was too loud, the crowd too rowdy. And the things I saw... I felt like I had entered a different world.


    Was this the club she was excited to come to? This was, uh, speechless; I didn¡¯t know what to say or think. The loud music and many crowd was making me unfunctional.


    From my view, I saw women dancing on poles, their bodies writhing and twisting in ways that looked impossible.


    Some were half-naked, their breasts exposed, while others wore even less, their bodies gleaming with sweat.


    Shock and shame washed over me, and having to witness this was all too new to me. My eyes scanned over the crowd in horror. This was what Miss Red was so excited about. This chaotic, decadent world? I couldn¡¯t understand it.


    Miss Red must have indirectly sensed my discomfort as she leaned in close, her voice whispering in my ear. "Relax, darling. This is just the beginning of the night. You¡¯ll get used to it."


    But I wasn¡¯t so sure. The things I am seeing... are definitely not something I would like to get used to.


    She pulled me deeper into the club and we pushed through the crowd, dodging bodies and avoiding spilled drinks. The air was thick with the smell of perfume, sweat, and smoke.


    The walls were adorned with glittering silver decorations, and the floor was made of polished black marble. The bar was a long, curved affair, lined with stools and staffed by bartenders who seemed to be juggling multiple drinks at once.


    We finally reached a secluded area, cordoned off from the rest of the club by a velvet rope. Miss Red flashed another golden card at a man, and he nodded, unclipping the rope to let us through the VIP.


    Inside the VIP area, the music was slightly less loud, and the crowd was more subdued. There were plush couches and tables, and a bar dedicated solely to serving the VIP patrons.


    Miss Red pulled me over to a couch, where some group of men were already seated. They were all dressed in expensive-looking clothing, and they seemed to be sipping champagne and laughing.


    "Everyone, this is my guest," Miss Red said, taking a seat.


    The group turned to look at me, and my anxiety spiked up. I didn¡¯t know what to say or do like I was stuck in a nightmare.


    "Just relax. I¡¯ll take care of everything." She leaned in close, her voice whispering in my ear, she pulled me down onto the couch, and the night began to blur into a chaotic, decadent haze.


    A glass cup was shoved into my hand, and I looked over to one of the men who smirked at me, pulling his own cup and sipping.


    The amber liquid inside the cup glowed in the dim light of the VIP lounge. I had no idea what it was, but I had a feeling I wasn¡¯t going to like it.


    "What¡¯s your name, cutie?" Another one whispers into my ear, shivers running down my spine. I looked at Miss Red in horror, urging her to get me out of this uncomfortable situation, but she was too busy to notice my distress. She was engaged in a heated kiss with two men. What!


    Their lips were moving from one to the other with ease. What was she doing? I thought, feeling disgusted at the sight of her.


    She couldn¡¯t just kiss one man and be done with it, no, she had to kiss two men at the same time, her lips and tongue moving in a way that was both fascinating and repellent.


    Someone¡¯s hands moved to my exposed thighs, and I jumped, looking at the man who had asked what my name was. "What¡¯s your name." he squeezed my thighs and I winced. It wasn¡¯t exactly painful, but it was definitely not what I wanted.


    He leaned in closer, his breath whispering against my ears. " I don¡¯t steal names, now do I?" Was he trying to make a joke for me to laugh? I doubt.


    Because that joke was the most creepy and cringeworthy thing, I had ever heard.


    I tried to push him away by slowly taking a sip from the cup in my hand, wanting him to see I wasn¡¯t interested.


    But he only squeezed my thighs harder, leaning in closer, and I sprang up from the couch.


    That caught the witch¡¯s attention as she broke her lips away from the two men she was kissing and looked up at me, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Where are you going, Katya." She hissed, clearly annoyed, but I paid her no mind, walking out of the place while calling out to her over my shoulders.


    "I need the restroom." I made a beeline, moving through the more crowded places, trying to find the door. The music was still pounding in my ears, and the lights were still flashing.


    Adelasia didn¡¯t even try to stop or help me get to the bathroom, what a good friend I thought I found in her.


    I was pulled into someone, who immediately started to grind on me. Flinching at the sudden closeness to this stranger. I pulled myself out of their grasp.


    Running and almost falling because of the shoes towards an area at the side.


    There was less of a crowd, but no better as I spotted some people shoving their tongues.


    I quickly looked elsewhere, breathing hard from my little run. My legs were hurting, and I hissed, "Stupid shoes." bending over to my ankles,s, I began unstrapping the lase, pulling the high heels out my legs.


    Fresh air greeted my barefoot, and I relaxed, dumping the shoes and the wall. This was my chance to finally be free. I was alone, out of that estate, and Miss Red wasn¡¯t near me. No guards and no Mr Salvatore aka my tomentor.


    This was my chance, and I wouldn¡¯t waste it, but where would I go? I have no money, no job, and no one. I got nothing, just myself.


    Remembering the way to the exit doors, I began my walk out from the wall and into the crowd again. Moving towards the door in anticipation, I was pulled so many times into random strangers but I pushed away.


    Walking faster to the door, but before I could reach it, that perv of a man from that VIP lounge pulled me into him.


    "Going somewhere, Katya."

 Chapter 34: ★I’m not interested★

    Chapter 34: ¡ïI¡¯m not interested¡ï


    ~Chapter 33~


    "Going somewhere, Katya?" His hot breath wafted against my ear, sending chills down my spine. Uneasiness washing over me as his words dripped with an unsettling familiarity, like he knew me too much. My name flowed from his lips like honey.


    How did he find me so quickly? Did he follow me from the lounge? The thought made my skin crawl. What a creep.


    Struggling against his grip, trying to free myself, his fingers dug into my skin, making me wince. I pushed back, against his strong hold and he spun me around, making us stand face to face.


    "Let me go. I¡¯m not interested." I demanded, pushing at his broad chest, trying to create some distance between us.


    His chest was solid, and hard to hit at but I didn¡¯t care. Who was this guy, and why wouldn¡¯t he leave me alone?


    He held me tightly, moving us back into the crowded dance floor and said into my ears." I know your type, feisty at first but secretly loves it." His voice was low and husky, that sent shivers through me.


    Secretly loves what? What did he mean? His words made me feel so dirty? This creep, doesn¡¯t know what boundaries were.


    He pressed his body against mine, his chest crushing me, making it hard to breathe. His lips grazed the skin below my ear, sending a waves and waves of revulsion through me.


    Hell no, he wasn¡¯t going to force himself on me. Was he?


    His hand slid down my back, cupping my buttocks, his fingers digging into the flesh. A jolt of fear and anger shot through me as that was the final straw.


    I raised my knee, aiming straight for his groin and I felt a satisfying crunch as my knee connected with his vulnerable flesh.


    Hoping it hurt him and prayed it hurt him to death. He released me instantly, doubling over in agony, clutching his groin.


    I took advantage of the distraction to land a stinging slap on his cheek.


    The slap was out of spite, a manifestation of the rage and fear coursing through my veins. I wanted to strangle him for his assault, but I didn¡¯t have the luxury of time to do so.


    Without hesitation, I turned and ran, bursting through the door and out into the cool night air.


    The two massive men guarding the entrance looked up, their eyes locking onto mine for a brief moment before they looked away, their expressions impassive.


    It seemed this was a normal occurrence, something they were accustomed to seeing and ignoring.


    That made my blood boil, because how could they just stand there, doing nothing?


    Didn¡¯t they care that I might just have been assaulted? My blood boiled with rage and frustration but I ran, my bare feet carrying out of that God forsaken place, my heart racing with fear.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    My bare feet pounded the pavement, carrying me to a nearby alleyway and I leaned against the wall, exhaling deeply, my chest heaving with exhaustion.


    I¡¯d been running from the club for at least thirty minutes close to an hour straight. My eyes fixed on the path ahead, never once looking back.


    The adrenaline that had fueled my escape was starting to wear off, replaced by a creeping sense of dread.


    Not once did I feel like someone was following me so I needed a break, catching my breath.


    As I caught my breath, I noticed a group of people huddled at the corner of the alley, smoking heavily.


    The acrid smell of nicotine and tar filled the air, making my stomach turn. It was my cue to leave, not wanting to draw attention to my disheveled state. My short dress and bare feet made me feel vulnerable, and I didn¡¯t want to stick around to become a target.


    I pushed off from the wall, moving slowly towards the brighter lights of the main street. The sounds of the city grew louder, with the cacophony of car horns, chatter, and music. Relieved as I stepped into the relative safety of the well-lit street.


    But my relief was short-lived. A loud whistle pierced the air, making me turn towards the sound.


    One of the smokers from the alleyway had broken away from the group, puffing out smoke from his nose as he walked towards me. His eyes roamed over my body, lingering on my legs and chest.


    "Where you going, beautiful?" he called out, his voice dripping with sleaze. "Come give us some company with that ass of yours." He leered at me,as I realized I wasn¡¯t safe yet.


    I swiftly turned my attention back to the path ahead, quickening my pace. He was bulky figure and his long strides easily matched mine, and before I knew it, he was beside me. "Hey, I was talking to you," he gravelly said, as he reached out to grab my arm.


    I jerked my arm free, snatching it away from his grasp. I dared a glance up at him, taking in his unkempt appearance. His hair was greasy, his stubble uneven, and his eyes was red from smoking so hard. I shuddered inwardly but kept walking, maintaining a steady pace.


    "I¡¯m not interested," I said flatly, trying to sound braver than I felt.


    My strategy was to act tough, to make him think I wasn¡¯t worth the trouble. I¡¯d learned from experience that showing emotion only made things worse.


    My father had been a master at manipulating my emotions, using them against me to inflict more pain.


    Acting all pitiful makes them get more urged to inflict more pain. Whenever I¡¯d showed the slightest emotion my father revived in it, driving more pain into me to see that same reaction.


    I picked up my pace again, my bare feet pounding against the cold ground. The smoker¡¯s laughter and catcalls echoed through the air, but I refused to look back, keeping my eyes fixed on the street ahead.


    My heart thudded in my chest and fear coursing through my veins like ice.


    Just as I thought I¡¯d finally managed to shake them off. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the air, growing louder with each passing second. My heart sinking down to my belly, and I pumped my legs harder, breaking into a frantic run.

 Chapter 35: ★I was in danger too?★

    Chapter 35: ¡ïI was in danger too?¡ï


    ~Chapter 35 ~


    Ragged gasps tore from my lungs as I desperately tried to escape. I didn¡¯t know if it was me they were coming for or who but I didn¡¯t like this feeling of uncertainty that had settled in me.


    Suddenly, a hand shot out from behind, grabbing my arm and i was spun around. My eyes meeting the smoker¡¯s, his irises red-rimmed from the endless puffs.


    "Where do you think you¡¯re going?" he sneered, his breath a noxious mix of nicotine and stale beer that made my stomach turn. "I was talking to you nicely, but that isn¡¯t how you like it, huh?" His tone dripped with malice, and I struggled against his grip, panic clawing at my chest.


    "I said I¡¯m not interested." My voice trembled and his hold got tighter and harsher than that guy from the vip lounge.


    Why did this keep happening to me? Couldn¡¯t I just have one moment of peace? Every time I thought I¡¯d found freedom, a new threat emerged. I always end up getting in situations like this.


    He began dragging me toward his group of friends, and I dug my heels into the ground, struggling to break free. My legs scraped against the pavement, skin bruising beneath my weight. "Let me go! What do you want?" I demanded, keeping my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me.


    "Your company," the smoker growled, dragging me deeper into the heart of their camp. I stumbled, my feet getting more bruised from my struggles on the rough ground as he pulled me along.


    On reaching the group, I was met with a sea of unfriendly faces - at least ten of them, both men and women, surrounded us, shrouded in a haze of smoke that was everywhere.


    The smoker dumped me onto his lap, as he fell into the chair, my skin crawling at the unwanted contact. I squirmed, desperate to escape, but he only groaned out.


    "Hell no," I muttered, pushing myself up and he groaned again, "Continue that, and it wouldn¡¯t be only your company I need." His words sent a dread down my spine as he took a long drag from his cigarette.


    The gesture reminded me of Mr. Salvatore, my tormentor, who always seemed to have a cigarette dangling from his lips. The memory made fear creep into me, and I froze, my struggles momentarily halted.


    The creep threat effectively stopped my struggle and I glanced around at the group.


    They all looked like thugs - both the men and women. Their faces were hardened, their eyes cold and red-rimmed, no doubt it was from the endless smoking. What had I gotten myself into?


    "Puff," the man on whose lap I was trapped said, holding a cigarette to my lips. I jerked my head sideways, avoiding the noxious smoke. "Come on, take a drag. It¡¯s tradition," he all but whined, his voice grating on my nerves.


    Before I could respond, a girl sitting across from us spoke up. "Frank, stop forcing people to smoke." Her voice was as husky as a male with a hint of amusement.


    The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me - she was puffing on a cigarette herself, the smoke curling around her dark leather jacket and jeans. A bold, black lipstick plastered on her full lips.


    Frank turned to her, his expression indifferent. "What? I saw she¡¯s in a bad mood, Aria." Aria raised an eyebrow, taking another drag before responding.


    "So, what¡¯s your business with her mood?" Her tone was light, but I detected a hint of warning beneath the surface.


    I watched the exchange, momentarily forgetting about my precarious situation, sitting on frank thighs.


    Frank¡¯s response was defensive. "Hey, I was just being nice." His eyes flicked back to me, as if wanting me to back him up.


    Nice? There was nothing nice about his actions.


    "Nice, in making someone an addict like you, sure," Aria shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm.


    She looked effortlessly cool, exchanging banter with the hulking Frank. Their argument wasn¡¯t heated, but rather a familiar, friendly bickering.


    The others present didn¡¯t seem to care, continuing to chat and smoke with abandon.


    Aria stood up, her dark leather jacket creaking as she moved. "Oh, shut up, Frank." She stepped closer, bringing me back to their conversation.


    Frank stood up as well, pulling me to my feet, his arm wrapping around my waist, not letting me go.


    "What¡¯re you going to do, Aria?" Frank sneered.


    Aria¡¯s response was immediate. "Fuck off, Frank."


    Frank snickered. "Why don¡¯t you come shut it?"


    Aria¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she grabbed my arm, trying to pull me free from Frank¡¯s grasp. But Frank held tight, his fingers digging into my skin.


    "Let her go, pervert," Aria spat, venomous, successfully yanking me out of Frank¡¯s grasp, spinning me around to face her.


    She walked me back to her seat, her arm still wrapped around mine.


    Frank¡¯s voice echoed through the air. "Nice one, bitch." Aria¡¯s response was a dismissive middle finger, which she flashed over her shoulder as she sat back down. She patted the seat beside her.


    Should I sit down with her or make a run for it? The group looked rugged and rough around the edges, but Aria had an aura that made her seem approachable, someone you could be comfortable around.


    I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, so why not sit down and chat? I had no cash on me, so even if they were thieves, I had nothing to lose.


    I settled into the chair beside her, the worn leather creaking beneath me. She turned to me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What¡¯s your name?" she asked, her voice husky from years of smoking.


    Hesitating for a moment before responding, I already know her name from Frank calling her Aria, so why not. "Katya." Aria¡¯s gaze lingered on me, her expression unreadable. She took a long drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing bright red in the dim light.


    "Cool name," she said finally, exhaling a stream of smoke. She ran a hand through her black hair, her eyes never leaving mine.


    "So, what are you doing on the most dangerous street at night, all by yourself in that...little number?" She gestured to my outfit with her cigarette hand, her tone dripping with disdain.


    A flush rise to my cheeks as I glanced down at my dress. Truth be told, it was damned short, and I was glad Aria had pointed it out. But her words also sent a fear into me.


    If this area was dangerous, as she claimed, then that meant I was in danger, too.

 Chapter 36: ★It makes it better★

    Chapter 36: ¡ïIt makes it better¡ï


    ~Chapter 36~


    "So basically," Aria began, dragging on her cigarette, the ember glowing bright red in the dim light of the alley.


    She puffed out a stream of smoke as she continued, her voice measured and thoughtful.


    "You mean, you were kidnapped, held captive, and forced into slavery before you finally managed to escape," she summarized, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied me.


    We sat in silence for a moment, enveloped by the stillness of the night. The only sounds were the distant hum of the city, a constant, soothing drone that vibrated through every cell in my body; the soft crackle of Aria¡¯s cigarette, and the light conversations from the other people present, their murmurs and laughter carrying on the breeze.


    They didn¡¯t pay us a glance nor did they even try listening or adding to our conversation. They all minded their business, leaving us to our private moment.


    I nodded slowly, my eyes fixed on my bare feet. My toes curled inward, trying to escape the cold chill that seeped up from the ground, a futile attempt to find warmth in the chilly night air.


    Some how, Aria had asked what I was doing here and I didn¡¯t know how my damned mouth began to blab about my situation.


    It was as if the words were eagerly waiting for that question and they poured out of their own accord.


    Mix of emotions was what I was feeling right now: relief, vulnerability and anxiety. Relieved that I¡¯d finally shared my story, but also vulnerable, knowing that Aria now knew my secrets and she¡¯s a stranger.


    A total stranger, I just met and I was blabbing my life history to her. what the hell has come over me.


    "So where are you going to go from here?" she asked, her voice piercing the silence that was about to settle.


    I looked back at her, thinking and searching for an answer that didn¡¯t exist. I had nowhere to go, no job, no money, and definitely no family waiting for me. I was alone, abandoned, and adrift in a vast, uncaring world.


    Aria¡¯s eyes looked at me, waiting for my response. When she saw I had none, she sighed, exhaling a string of smoke that curled upward, disappearing into the night wind.


    "So you have nowhere to go, damn," she muttered, clicking her tongue in what I don¡¯t know, was it disappointment or pity. Anything it was, I didn¡¯t like that expression. It made me feel weak, vulnerable, and helpless.


    "I...I...it¡¯s not like I don¡¯t know where to go," I stammered, the words tumbling out of my mouth like the clumsy and awkward human I was.


    I struggled to find the right words, the ones that would convince Aria that I was fine, that I had a plan, that I wasn¡¯t just a lost, pitiful soul wandering the streets. But the words wouldn¡¯t come, and I was left sitting there, feeling like a fool.


    Aria scoffed but her eyes held amusement as she brought her cigarette closer to me and I recoiled, moving back as the smoke wafted out, stinging my eyes.


    Looking at her confused at the suddenly closeness, I wondered what she was on about. "What?" I whispered to her as she gazed at me in the eyes.


    My voice was barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat as I stammered out. "What are you doing." This was starting to get uncomfortable.


    She scoffed again, a husky sound that sent a thrill through me. Leaning back in her seat, she stretched out her hand, the cigarette still clutched between her fingers.


    "You need this right now," She began, wiggling the cigarette in front of me. "Smoke what¡¯s bothering you away." She side-eyed me, a sly and knowing glint in her eye.


    Unsure of what to make of Aria¡¯s offer. Part of me was tempted, tempted to take the cigarette, to inhale the smoke, to let the nicotine coursing through my veins dull the pain, the fear, the uncertainty.


    But another part of me was wary, wary of Aria¡¯s motives, wary of getting too close, too quickly.


    Because, why? Why was she giving me a cigarette when she was the one who had stopped Frank from forcing one into my mouth just a little while ago?


    Images of Frank¡¯s aggressive behavior still lingered, making Aria¡¯s offer seem contradictory.


    Nonetheless, I respectfully declined, trying to sound firm but polite. "I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t smoke." Aria¡¯s expression changed to approval, spreading across her face.


    "Cool, that¡¯s good. Cigarettes are addictive, and a pretty girl like you shouldn¡¯t get yourself into this. BUT" Her eyes sparkled with a knowing glint as she paused, looking at me and bringing her cigarette back to her lips to inhale.


    "But, that doesn¡¯t mean you shouldn¡¯t smoke, when your head is full of worries." She finished. Exhaling out the stream of smoke that curled upwards, giving me a reason to smoke the cigarette that she is leaning towards me again.


    Looking at her hand, I sighed, frowning as the cigarette called towards me, beckoning me, tempting me to take it.


    It was telling me to take it and everything would be alright. The smoke seemed to whisper sweet nothings, promising to calm my racing thoughts, to soothe my frazzled nerves.


    I knew it was wrong, I had never even tried smoking before, but there¡¯s a first time for everything. And so, with much trepidation, I reached out and took the cigarette from her hand.


    Shakeningly, I brought the cigarette towards my trembling lips, the filter tip tickling my skin. I inhaled, the smoke rushing into my lungs.


    The moment the smoke passed through my lips, I coughed out hard, my body rebelling against the intrusion. I couldn¡¯t hold in the bad taste and smell, the acrid flavor burning my tongue and the back of my throat.


    The smoke seared my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I felt like I was suffocating, my airways constricting in protest.


    How can people smoke this stuff? I wondered, my mind reeling in shock. Was this what Mr. Salvatore liked? Torturing himself with this killing tool?


    What the fuck? I mentally punched my stupid brain, furious at myself for thinking about him. How the hell did his name, his face, his presence keep creeping into my thoughts?

 Chapter 37: ★What! They are twins★

    Chapter 37: ¡ïWhat! They are twins¡ï


    ~Chapter 37~


    My eyes stung from the excess smoke, tears watering at the corners as I coughed uncontrollably.


    I looked over at Aria, who was grinning from ear to ear, clearly amused by my struggles. "Better now?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. She knew I was far from better but the bitch wanted to rub it in.


    She took back her cigarette from my hand. Effortlessly, she dragged the cigarette to her lips, inhaling deeply. I watched, still coughing but slowly subduing, marveling at how she could smoke with such ease, such calmness.


    She exhaled her smoke and threw down the cigarette to the ground.


    Standing up, she matched the still lit cigarette with the toe of her boot, easily killing the ember.


    The sudden darkness seemed to emphasize the silence of the alley, making me feel even more alone, despite the other people present.


    "Well, Katya, it¡¯s getting late and I¡¯m gonna be on my way," she said firmly but not unkind.


    "Hope you know where you¡¯re going." She turned to leave, her boots scraping against the rough concrete as she walked away from me.


    Fuck me, I didn¡¯t know where to go. I shouldn¡¯t have lied and tried to act like I had everything figured out.


    Now Aria was leaving, and I would be left alone in an alley with no one to talk to or stay with!.


    She walked towards the other side, where Frank was sitting, his eyes closed, a cigarette dangling from his lips.


    The cigarette wasn¡¯t lit, and that was a relief. Aria chuckled, as she removed the cigarette from Frank¡¯s lips and pocketed it in her jacket.


    "Motherfucking addict left a cigarette in his lips while sleeping. Freaking idiot," Aria said as she kicked him on his leg, but he didn¡¯t budge.


    "Get the fuck up, Frank!" Aria shouted, her voice bouncing off the alley walls.


    She kicked him harder, but he only changed position on his sleeping form, almost falling off the chair.


    "Fucking hell," she muttered under her breath, but I heard it loud and clear as I was already moving towards her and standing next to her, my curiosity getting the better of me.


    "Why are you trying to wake him up" I didn¡¯t understand why she was trying to wake Frank up; she could just leave and go wherever she said she was going. Why bother with him?


    Aria¡¯s efforts to rouse Frank seemed almost... maternal, despite the obvious tension between them. They looked like they have this love-hate relationship, and it was kinda cute, in a weird, dysfunctional way.


    She groaned, looking as if she didn¡¯t want to answer my question. Her eyes darted to mine, then back to Frank¡¯s sleeping form.


    "He¡¯s my twin," she finally said, after we held eye contact for what felt like an eternity - at least a solid minute. The words made my eyes widen in surprise.


    They¡¯re what?! Twins?! They didn¡¯t look that similar, but after Aria revealed their blood relation, I began to see the subtle similarities.


    They had the same hair color, the same shade of eyes - I remembered Frank¡¯s eyes, the way they bore into mine, when he was dragging me. It was eerie, how alike they looked, now that I knew.


    Aria¡¯s gaze met mine, a sly and sarcastic grin on her lips. "Shocked? I was too," she said, clearly being sarcastic.


    I stifled a laugh, not wanting to offend her, but her expression told me she was expecting it.


    Why would she be shocked to have a twin brother like Frank? Yes, he had a very aggressive nature, like when he tried to force himself on me, but after that, he seemed to mind his own business, eventually falling asleep without me even noticing.


    Aria hooked her arm under Frank¡¯s elbow, struggling to raise her twin up from the seat. I quickly moved to his other side, hooking my arm under his other elbow, and together we successfully pulled him out of the chair, albeit with considerable effort


    He groaned out, in what seems to be pain, but then slumped his full weight on both of us. He was heavy, like a big sack of sand.


    How in the world did Aria thought she would have managed to pull him up on her own.


    I looked over at her, and she grinned sheepishly, already knowing what I was about to say. "How were you going to carry him alone?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    She spat to the floor, a wry smile twisting her lips. "Who said I was going to carry him?" She raised a brow, and I looked completely confused.


    She shook her head, answering my unasked question. "I was going to drag him till we reach home or wherever his ass wakes up." Her words painted a vivid picture in my mind - Aria dragging her twin brother through the streets, not caring who saw them. It was a strange image, but it somehow fit their eccentric dynamic.


    I realized, they live together. So they really are twins and the thought made me all the more curious about them.


    What was their life like, living together as twins? Did they always have each other¡¯s backs, or was their relationship more complicated?


    I looked at Aria, who was watching me with an amused glint in her eye, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.


    Her voice spoke out to me, gentle but probing. "Katya, are you really sure you know where to go from here?"


    I don¡¯t, the words were on the tip of my tongue but I hesitated - I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing.


    But my lips seemed frozen, unable to form the words I needed to say. I fucking hate it, I thought, feeling like a coward.


    "Umm..." I stuttered, but Aria didn¡¯t let me finish


    "Katya, it¡¯s alright to ask for help," Her voice softened. "I know we just met, and I don¡¯t really know you, but I feel like we could be good friends. And helping you in this time wouldn¡¯t be a burden to me." Her words were like a balm to my frazzled nerves, soothing my fears and doubts.


    She said all the words I needed to hear, but I still couldn¡¯t say anything, just looking at her like a fool caught in the dark.


    My eyes searched hers, trying to understand why she would want to help a complete stranger like me.


    "Why?" I finally questioned, my voice barely above a whisper. Why would she want to help me? What if I was a criminal, and I fabricated the whole story? She couldn¡¯t just possibly believe me straight up.


    "Because I want to," Aria¡¯s expression turned wry, "Now, enough of trying to stop me from helping you. I¡¯m trying to be nice for once, so let¡¯s just get my dumb brother home. His weight is killing my arm."


    She moved forward, her arm still hooked under Frank¡¯s elbow, and I had no other choice but to follow, still holding up Frank¡¯s other side.

 Chapter 38: ★Their Apartment★

    Chapter 38: ¡ïTheir Apartment¡ï


    ~Chapter 38~


    We trudged through the city streets, for what felt like hours. The sidewalks were now crowded, with people rushing to and fro, their faces a blur.


    Frank, still dead weight between us, hadn¡¯t stirred once, his snores was the only timing reassuring, indicating us he was still in the living world.


    Aria had told me, with a sheepish smile, that Frank was a heavy sleeper, and that he wouldn¡¯t even notice if she left him at the alley. "I¡¯ve left him countless times before. But today, I need him home." she¡¯d said to me when I asked her was this normal.


    Finally, Aria stopped in front of a small apartment building. The building facade was a mess of crumbling brick.


    The building looked like it was holding on to its last shred of life.


    Aria nodded at a group of men huddled in the corner, their rugged faces illuminated only by the faint glow of a single overhead light.They were engaged in a heated game of cards, only nodding back at her slightly.


    Aria pushed open the door and I followed her into the building, Frank¡¯s weight still leaning heavily on me.


    She pulled Frank upright as he swayed slightly from her grip. We stepped into an elevator. My heart pounding in my chest.


    Wondering what I was getting myself into. Was I really ready to accept Aria¡¯s help? What if she¡¯s a serial killer and I¡¯m walking straight to my death.


    And what would happen once we reached their apartment? she might jump on me, trying to kill me.


    We leaned against the elevator wall, taking a break from carrying Frank bulky weight around the city.


    The elevator doors slid open, and together we pulled Frank with us out into a hallway. The hallway was dimly lit with worn, beige-colored walls.


    The air was stale and musty, heavy with the smells of stale cigarettes and cooking oil that cling to every surface, assaulting my nose.


    I unconsciously wrinkled my nose, trying not to show my distaste but Aria shot me a wry smile, as if knowing what I was on.


    She led the way with me beside her, still shouldering Frank¡¯s weight. The hallway was narrow and cramped, with some flickering fluorescent lights overhead.


    Aria stopped in front of a door with a faded "3B" painted on it. She fished out a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the door.


    The sound was loud in the quiet hallway, making my heart thud more and a shiver run down my spine as the door creaked open.


    Beyond the door lay a small, cluttered apartment. The living room was dominated by a worn, brown couch with a coffee table littered with empty beer cans and cigarette butts. This twin still smoke at home too? I remembered when Aria had called Frank and addict and I¡¯m not surprised anymore.


    The air was thick with the smell of smoke and stale beer, and my eyes watered in response to the toxicity.


    "Welcome to our humble abode, I know. it¡¯s not a palace" She laughed a little before continuing.


    "But home sweet home," Aria said, gesturing for me to the room, as she took in my reaction.


    I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to expect, but Frank¡¯s weight was still leaning heavily on me, and I couldn¡¯t stand there forever, she was going to drag me in anyways with frank.


    Aria chuckled and shook her head. "Don¡¯t worry, Katya. I¡¯m not going to jump on you and try to kill you," she said, pausing a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. "At least, not yet." Her words sent a jolt of adrenaline through my system.


    That didn¡¯t stop my nerves at all. How did she know what I was thinking? I could have sworn I¡¯d kept my thoughts to myself. But Aria just grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement.


    "You said it out loud," she confirmed, and I shot her a wary look, my expression stern. It wasn¡¯t funny. But Aria just chuckled and gestured for me to follow her.


    We moved deeper into the apartment, and she closed the door behind us with a swift kick of her foot.


    Moving towards the couch, Aria released her hold on Frank, and he slumped forward, pulling me with him. I hadn¡¯t realized I still had a grip on his arm, and now I found myself tumbling forward, my stomach lurching as I struggled to regain my balance.


    Frank landed with a thud on the worn cushions, his body sprawling across the couch like a rag doll. I yelped stumbling after him.


    I landed on top of Frank in a ridiculously awkward position, my arms and legs tangled around his limp body. I heard Aria¡¯s laughter echoing through the room, a deep, throaty sound that shake her entire body.


    She was laughing so damn hard like she was crying, her gasps for air interspersed with snorts and giggles.


    Harshly pulling my arm, trying to extricate it from beneath Frank¡¯s dead weight. His body was like a rock pinning me to the couch. I finally managed to free myself, standing up from his still-sleeping form.


    Frank didn¡¯t even stir, despite the commotion and noise surrounding him. Aria had been right; he was a damned heavy sleeper.


    Turning to look at Aria, who was still laughing uncontrollably. She was doubled over, her hands clutching her stomach as if it hurt. Tears streamed down her face, and her eyes sparkled with mirth.


    "I¡¯m...breaths in...sorry," she gasped, "but it was fucking funny...hahaha." She held her stomach, still chuckling as I stood there, pouting.


    It wasn¡¯t funny at all, as I was the one who was in that awkward position, so why was she laughing so hard.


    "Ahh, hahaha," she slowly came down from her laughter-induced high.


    "We haven¡¯t even lived together for an hour, and I¡¯m already loving it. I don¡¯t remember when I last laughed this hard." Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she wiped tears from her cheeks.


    Irritation pricked on my mind at being the source of her amusement, but Aria¡¯s infectious laughter was starting to wear me down.


    She gazed at my scowling face, a smirk playing on her lips before she said, "Come on, it was funny, don¡¯t look at me that way. You don¡¯t look cute when scowling."


    Her words hit a nerve, and my scowl instantly deepened into a frown. I wasn¡¯t trying to be cute; I was genuinely annoyed. I knew I wasn¡¯t exactly the epitome of beauty, and her comment only served to confirm my insecurities.


    Aria¡¯s expression changed as she took in my noticable reaction. Her smirk faltered, and she frowned, her brow furrowing in concern.


    She walked over to me, her eyes scanning my face as if searching for clues. "What¡¯s wrong, is it about me laughing at your position?" she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with a hint of apology


    "Nothing, " I shook my head, trying to brush off my feelings.


    Forcing a smile onto my face. But Aria wasn¡¯t buying it. She looked at me, her eyes narrowing slightly, "Really? You¡¯re sure?"


    I nodded again to reassure her, but Aria¡¯s gaze lingered on mine, perhaps searching for any sign of deception.


    I was starting to get uncomfortable under her scrutiny, wondering how someone I¡¯d just met could already be treating me like we were old friends. It was both unsettling and strangely comforting at the same time.


    "Alright, lemme get you some clothes to change into," Aria said, moving away from my side and disappearing through a doorway.


    I took the opportunity to glance around the space, taking in the layout of the apartment. There were two doors at the far corner of the room, and along the side, I could see a kitchen, the counters cluttered with dirty dishes and takeout containers.


    Their apartment was clearly not well-maintained. Littered beer bottles and pizza cartons scattered the floor, giving off a strong smell of spoiled food and decay.


    My nose wrinkled even more in distaste, wondering how anyone could live like this.


    Aria walked back into the room, holding out a bundle of clothes. "These are mine. Just some clothes to manage with for the time being. You can¡¯t walk around in that fabric." ," she said and her distaste for my current clothes was audible in her voice, and she didn¡¯t even try to hide it on her face.


    "Thanks." Taking the clothes from her hands. She turned pointing towards the door she¡¯d walked out from. "You can go in there and change. That¡¯s my room, and now yours too, since we¡¯re going to share." She gestured towards the room next to it. "The room next to it is Frank¡¯s."


    I walked to the door, cautiously still cautious that someone in this world was willing to help me and I just met her for the first time.


    I pushed open the door and the smell of cigarettes hit me harder. was this the room that¡¯s Aria. it definitely is as I didn¡¯t do mistake in entering. She must be smoking harder than I thought because her room clearly reeks off it.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Like daja vu, I couldn¡¯t pull down the zipper on the dress, I stood in front of the small bed, wrestling with the zipper on the dress.


    I couldn¡¯t pull it down, no matter how hard I tried. Miss Red had forced me into this dress, and now I was stuck. I had been trying for what felt like an eternity - two minutes, maybe more - and I was starting to feel frustrated.


    Walking back to the door, I pushed it softly, calling out to Aria in embarrassment, "Can you lend me a hand here, please." My voice was barely above a whisper, and my face heat up with embarrassment.


    Aria looked up from her phone in hand and nodded. She stood up, pocketing her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She had changed out of her jacket and boots, and her hair was slightly disheveled, she must have been running her hands through it.


    "Turn around," she instructed and I turned my back to her as she helped me zip down the dress


    She left me to change, and I quickly stripped out of the dress and into the clothes she had provided.


    The jean shorts were a bit too big for me, stopping just above my thighs. I wondered how they would fit Aria, who had a more flesh than I did. The beige-colored top was loose-fitting, but comfortable. I pulled it over my head,


    pulling the beige-colored top overy head.


    Walking over to the living room again to tell Aria I was done.


    Two heads turned towards me - Aria¡¯s and Frank¡¯s. When did he wake up.


    Frank¡¯s eyes locked onto mine, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he watched me from head to toes.


    ******


    Sorry for the long Chapter and only one


    I¡¯m really sorry, thanks for reading

 Chapter 39: ★Frank★

    Chapter 39: ¡ïFrank¡ï


    ~Chapter 39~


    "Look what we have here," Frank said, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon.


    A sly, lazy grin spread across his face as he watched me from head to toes, his gaze lingering on my bare feet.


    When did he wake up? I wondered, recalling how dense of a sleeper he was. I looked down at my bare feet, the chill of the floor seeping into my skin.


    I wasn¡¯t comfortable with Frank, and he still gave me a vibe I couldn¡¯t quite place - He has this mix of amusement and curiosity that made me feel like I was walking on eggshells.


    And to make matters worse, Aria was the one who had offered me to stay with them, while Frank was asleep, oblivious to the new addition to their household.


    Now, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder what his reaction would be to having me as a leech, because that¡¯s exactly what I was - a stranger, imposing on their hospitality, with no money to pay them for the shelter they were providing.


    The weight of my dependence on them settled heavy on my shoulders, whispering into me that I was a burden and I would always be to people.


    Frank cleared his throat, the sound rough and gravelly, as he sat upright on the worn out couch. Before speaking, he flashed a mischievous grin at me.


    "So Aria finally found me a wife, bwahhahaha," he said in his gruff voice, the words dripping with sarcasm and amusement.


    "Shut up, idiot," Aria¡¯s reaction was immediate as she shoved Frank¡¯s leg with her own, the motion playful but with force.


    The exchange between them was natural and playful.


    They looked to have a very good relationship, one built on trust, humor, and a deep understanding of each other¡¯s quirks. Their banter was a joy to watch, like two surreal match but between two equals. They were twin after all.


    I, on the other hand, felt like an outsider, unsure how to respond to Frank¡¯s comment. So I just stood there watching as they both tumbled to the floor, wrestling and laughing.


    Aria quickly gained the upper hand, pinning Frank to the floor.


    "Alright, alright. You win, let me go, you devilish being," Frank muffled voice said, smacking Aria¡¯s hand away, the one that was playfully strangling him.


    She pushed herself upwards, her chest heaving, and her face flushed with some sweats lingering on her forehead.


    "Pussy," she spat out in mockery. Frank, still grinning, added, "Eater," his tone dripping with so much smugness.


    Aria¡¯s expression transformed into a glare of disgust, her eyes narrowing and her lips curling in distaste. I looked so confused at that.


    Why would he eat a cat? The thought seemed absurd, and I couldn¡¯t fathom why Frank would say such a thing. But who was I to judge?


    I had been locked away, sheltered from the world, and hadn¡¯t experienced the freedom to explore and discover its quirks.


    Maybe this was something normal, something I just didn¡¯t understand and it was wired. Really weird to even think of.


    Frank¡¯s gaze shifted back to me, and he chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "So, my twin there tells me you don¡¯t have anywhere to go," he said, stopping to look over to Aria.


    "And she¡¯s the most richest to bring someone into our barely surviving home." Frank said in one breath, leaving me wondering if he was being sarcastic or genuinely annoyed.


    His facial expression remained neutral, giving away nothing about his true feelings.


    "Uhhh, shut up Frank, really," Aria said as she stood up from the floor, brushing off her worn jeans.


    "I know we¡¯re broke as hell, but you couldn¡¯t possibly let me leave her on her own, could you?" She shot Frank a defiant glance before continuing.


    "And yeah, I know I shouldn¡¯t have made this decision on my own, but you were already half dead on that alley, smoking away like a chimney. So yeah, fuck it, I made the decision."She said out, sounding like she was daring Frank to contradict her.


    "So you just said it was alright to bring in a total stranger to our house, and she was called the smart twin. Pathetic." Frank shot back, patting his body, as if searching for something, before sighing and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.


    Aria immediately scowled, her face twisting into a disapproving mask, as she strode over to Frank and snatched the cigarette pack from his hands, just as he was about to light one up.


    "Are you being real, Frank? It¡¯s past midnight, and you want to smoke again?" She pocketed the items into her jeans.


    Planting both her hands firmly on her hips, like a scolding mother gazing down at her disobedient child.


    Aria eyes narrowed, and her voice took on a stern tone. Frank, however, was not intimidated.


    He scowled too, his face darkening as he stood up, abruptly. "What the fuck, Aria?" he exclaimed.


    "It¡¯s none of your business, I¡¯m trying to clear my foggy head about the new addition to our poverty-stinking lives." His words dripped with frustration, and his gaze flashed with annoyance.


    The tension between them skyrocketed and I feared their argument might escalate into something physical as their voices raised up and them clenching and unclenching their fists.


    All this was making me nervous and I quickly intervened, hoping to diffuse the situation. "I can leave," I said softly, hoping to diffuse the tension.


    But my words had the opposite effect. Both Aria and Frank snapped their attention to me, their faces identical masks of surprise and alarm.


    "No!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices fighting to overlap the other.


    Aria¡¯s eyes darted back to Frank, her expression questioning. Why had he reacted so strongly to the suggestion of my leaving?


    My gaze flicked to Frank, seeking answers. Cause he should be happy I was going to leave them and they can go back to their normal life.


    He sounded so offended when I mentioned leaving and Aria poked her fingers into his chest.


    "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she spelled out the words but Frank swatted her hand away irritated as he growled out a response.

 Chapter 40: ★What tomorrow might bring★

    Chapter 40: ¡ïWhat tomorrow might bring¡ï


    ~Chapter 40~


    "I didn¡¯t say she should leave, I¡¯m not angry at her staying with us," Frank clarified, with much irritation on his tone but his expression softened slightly.


    "I¡¯m just offended that you didn¡¯t wait for my opinion on this, taking it all upon yourself and agreeing without even consulting me." He paused, before adding,


    "And what the fuck is wrong with me now is the fact that my cigarette is not lit and sitting on my lips, you bitch." The words tumbled out of his mouth in a single breath as he ran a hand through his dark hair.


    I felt relieved at his words, my tensed shoulders fell down as I realized that Frank wasn¡¯t angry with me.


    Rather with Aria for not including him in the decision-making process. But my mind wasn¡¯t fully at peace as I couldn¡¯t help but wonder why I had been so scared of being kicked out, when my original plan had been to escape the mansion and survive on my own.


    But now, with Aria offering me a roof over my head, I was getting attached, and the thought of being alone again was unsettling.


    Aria rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile spreading across her face. "What a dick!" she exclaimed, shoving out a stick of cigarettes from the pack and throwing it alongside the lighter towards Frank.


    He caught them effortlessly, a grin plastered on his face as he lit up his cigarette. "Thanks, bitch," he said, blowing out a stream of smoke as he turned his attention to me. "And you are...?" he asked, like it was the first time he¡¯s seeing me and it was most likely he¡¯s asking for my name but before I could respond, Aria beat me to it.


    "Where are your manners, motherfucker?" Aria shouted at gim. But Frank merely rolled his eyes, his expression unrepentant, before adding, "Your name, please." He attempted to infuse his voice with fake innocence, but it didn¡¯t quite ring true.


    The demure expression he tried to adopt clashed with his mischievous personality, making him look like a clown.


    It didn¡¯t fit his huge personality, really.


    I finally answered his question about my name, saying "Katya." Frank nodded, before clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth.


    He exhaled a stream of smoke again, the scent of nicotine added more to the ones lingering before through the air.


    "Well, Katya, welcome home," Sarcasm was painfully clear from his tone, as he strode past me, but not before winking at me like a creep.


    He disappeared towards the room Aria had said was his. "Good night, bitches!" he shouted over his shoulder, his voice carrying through the hallway and Aria¡¯s response was immediate.


    "Fuck you!" she shouted back, but Frank¡¯s door had already creaked shut behind him and Aria flung the cigarette pack down onto the coffee table


    "Fucking idiot," she muttered, shaking her head and she turned to me, sheepishly changing her expression.


    "Sorry for that, my dumb brother can be the worst sometimes. But really, he¡¯s not that bad." she said, shaking her head, apologetic, and she walked over to me.


    But instead of stopping in front of me, like I had thought. She passed by, heading towards her room door and I quickly spun around, following her closely behind


    She pushed open the door and we stepped inside. Aria moved towards a small dresser tucked away in the corner and I stood back, my eyes fixed on the bed, wondering where I was supposed to sleep.


    Aria had said I¡¯d be sleeping in this room with her, but there was only one bed, and it wasn¡¯t that huge to hold in two bodies.


    The floor didn¡¯t seem too bad, though - I wouldn¡¯t mind lounging on it, and I¡¯d certainly slept in worse conditions before.


    Lost in my thoughts, I didn¡¯t notice when Aria changed out of her clothes and into something more suitable for sleeping.


    One moment she was rummaging through her dresser, and the next she was slipping into a comfortable-looking tank top and sweatpants. I blinked, feeling a little startled at the sudden change.


    She moved towards the bed and flopped down, her eyes drifting upwards to gaze at the ceiling.


    For some moment, she just lays there, her chest rising and falling with each slow breath. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she spoke up in a gentle murmur.


    "You¡¯ll get used to it, trust me."I turned to look at her. My facial expression saying it all.I was as confused ASF.


    She looked back at me, some sparkles dancing in her eyes as she raised herself up from the bed and sat up, her back straight.


    "Get used to me and Frank¡¯s jabs," she tried explaining but I didn¡¯t really get it and she sighed.


    "It¡¯s a regular thing we do. Just giving you the heads up." She patted the space next to her on the bed.


    "Let¡¯s sleep. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll see what it brings." Aria was a life saver, an angel sent from wherever they were made. She looked to appear touch but her heart was made of gold and I really hope to be like her. Well except for the smoking part.


    I dropped down into the space next to her, and we lay down, our bodies nestled together like sandwiches.


    The bed was cozy, but it was clear that it was designed for one person, not two. There wasn¡¯t much breathing space, but it was manageable.


    As I lay there, I thought about what tomorrow might really bring. The uncertainty was thrilling, and daunting.


    I should find a job to start earning, I didn¡¯t want to be a leach or burden to these twins who seemed to be struggling on their own.


    And i definitely would try repaying them for what they had done for me.


    Even if Aria had said I should just stay for only tonight, it would have still be a huge deal and I¡¯m forever indebted to them.


    ¡ï¡ï¡ï


    THANKS FOR READING:))

 Chapter 41: ★Rapid sounds★

    Chapter 41: ¡ïRapid sounds¡ï


    ~Chapter 41~


    Bang!


    The loud sound shattered the silence, jolting me upright from my slumber. My heart racing, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, gazing towards the door.


    The sudden noise had startled Aria too, and she muttered a soft "Shit! Two weeks already?" under her breath. She sprang to her feet, her movements urgent.


    She cautiously approached her room door, her eyes fixed on the door as if anticipating another loud bang and it came rapidly.


    Quickly, I followed closely behind her, my senses on high alert. What was that loud sound?


    The banging persisted, rapid and insistent. Someone was pounding on the front door with their fists.


    I mistakingly bumped into Aria¡¯s shoulder while she was slowly turning the handle of her room door, her eyes fixed on the gap between the door and the frame as she tried to peek into the living room.


    "Sorry," I mumbled out to her, feeling a flush rise to my cheeks as she glanced at me with narrowed eyes.


    She pushed open the door wider, and the noises from the living room increased in volume.


    The banging on the front door grew louder, more insistent, and the vibrations of each blow resonating through the floor beneath our feets.


    "Open the damned door, you little shits!" Came a booming voice from the other side of the door, the words a little muffled by the wood but still clear as day.


    The guff voice, made me flinch as whoever was on the other side of the door didn¡¯t seem to care that they were being ignored; they kept banging and throwing out insults, their words dripping with malice.


    Aria turned towards me, an intense, serious gaze as she stared down at me.


    She was about to leave her room, to face whatever was on the other side of the door, but she hesitated, her hand on the door handle.


    "You are gonna have to stay here, don¡¯t come out of the room, no matter what, okay?" she said, holding my gaze for a long moment, perhaps willing me to obey her.


    I stared back at her, wondering why she didn¡¯t want me to go out with her?


    This situation looked grave, and the person at the door was clearly wasn¡¯t going to leave until the door was opened.


    Aria¡¯s eyes continued to bore into mine as she waited for my response. I could feel her anxiety radiating towards me, making my own heart beat faster. Aria wasn¡¯t an anxious person, even though we just met yesterday evening.


    I could bet she was the most calm and collected when she wasn¡¯t arguing with her twin.


    "What¡¯s happening?" I barely could my voice above a whisper. But Aria just sighed, her shoulders sagging in frustration.


    She ran her hand through her dark locks, her eyes darting towards the door before returning to mine.


    "Just some thugs, nothing much," Her tone was dismissive, she wasn¡¯t telling me the truth.


    "Stay inside the room and don¡¯t make a sound." Her expression told me to drop the topic and listen to her, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that there was more to this situation than she was letting on.


    Just then, I caught a glimpse of Frank walking out of his room, his eyes fixed on Aria with a mixture of concern and warning.


    "Katya, tell me you aren¡¯t going to come out when you hear noises," Aria sounded urgent. She held my hands in hers, her grip tight, trying to convey the gravity of the situation through her actions.


    We had just met yesterday, and now she was telling me to hide in this room like a child. Why? Her explanation of "just some thugs" being outside didn¡¯t add up to anything.


    I felt frustrated and scared, unsure of what to do or what was happening. Aria gaze pleaded with me to listen to her and stay safe.


    But..but...I don¡¯t want to me a desmel in distress.


    "I don¡¯t know," I said softly, I couldn¡¯t promise what I knew I was going to do, because I was damned sure I was going to come out of the room the moment I thought things weren¡¯t right.


    And right now, things weren¡¯t right. my legs were shaking according to the rapid banging and like a twisting pin had settled in the pit of my stomach, making my skin prickle with anxiety.


    Aria blew out a tired breath but she muttered "Fair enough" under her breath. She knew I wasn¡¯t going to keep my promise


    She stepped out into the living room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. But not before she turned back to me, her eyes seriously stern "Remember, Katya, don¡¯t come out no matter what, this has nothing to do with you."


    I nodded, we¡¯ll see about that. The door closed, and I was left standing there, nervously tapping my foot on the ground.


    The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of my own ragged breathing.


    My eyes roamed over Aria room, trying to clear my head but nothing worked. I pressed my ears to the door, straining to hear what was going on in the living room.


    At first, there was silence. Then, the sound of raised voices drifted through the door, making my heart skip a beat.


    There were only two voices - Aria and Frank - and they were arguing. Their words were indistinct, but the tone was clear - angry, urgent, and desperate.


    "Are you crazy, Aria?" Frank¡¯s voice was the first thing I heard, his words dripping with concern.


    There was a moment of silence, heavy with tension, before Aria¡¯s soft voice came.


    "I¡¯m not, I¡¯m being logical" She replied, calmly and quietly as she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.


    "Tell me, when has not opening the door ever made them go away? Frank, they¡¯re going to break it down like they regularly do if we don¡¯t open the God-damned door any moment from now." Her voice rose to a yell, caution and desperation etched in every word.


    ?Thanks for reading?

 Chapter 42: ★Leave my twin brother★

    Chapter 42: ¡ïLeave my twin brother¡ï


    ~Chapter 42~


    I held my breath, my ears straining to hear more. There was a small gap between the door and the frame, and I quickly pressed my eye to the space. The gap wasn¡¯t large, but I could see enough to make my heart sink.


    Frank was pacing quietly in front of the door, his eyes fixed on the entrance.


    Aria stood beside him, her face set in a frown . She was constantly running her hand through her hair, nervously.


    Her dark locks were disheveled, and she almost dragged her hair painfully before letting it fall again.


    Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the hallway, making me jump. "You little pieces of trash, if this door isn¡¯t open in the count of three, I¡¯m breaking it down again!" a menacing voice bellowed.


    The words were accompanied by another loud bang, and I could bet the door were shuddering beneath the impact.


    Frank stopped his pacing abruptly, his eyes snapping to Aria, who looked like a startled deer caught in the headlights.


    Her eyes widened, and her breath came in short gasps. "Fuck!" she exclaimed, moving to open the door.


    But Frank was quicker, his hand shoots out to grasp her wrist, holding her back. "What the hell, Frank?" Aria demanded, rising her voice in frustration. "The door is going to be broken down if we don¡¯t fucking open it!"


    "And what about Katya?" he fired back "She isn¡¯t involved in our shit, and we both know that when those fuckers enter through that door, we¡¯re dead. Literally."


    Aria¡¯s eyes flashed with anger, but before she could respond, the door burst open, splintering apart with a loud crash.


    "Fuck!" Both of them exclaimed through the apartment as they ran deeper into the living room.


    I watched in horror as the scene unfolded before my eyes. A huge, hulking man strode into the apartment, his massive frame filling the doorway.


    He was enormous, with bulging muscles and a menacing scowl seating on his face.


    "Where¡¯s the money, shitheads?" he growled, stepping further into the apartment.


    Four more men followed close behind, each one just as big and bulky as the first. They looked like giants with their massive arms and legs making them seem almost unstoppable.


    My heart rate spiked up as I watch Aria square her shoulders and spoke in a loud confident voice."It¡¯s on its way."


    The man turned to his men, a sly grin spreading across his face as he repeated Aria¡¯s words. "It¡¯s on its way?" He chuckled, his amusement visible.


    "Can y¡¯all believe it? It¡¯s been ¡¯on its way¡¯ for three months now." He scoffed, expression turning with disdain.


    As he spoke, he strode over to Aria, his massive frame looming over her.


    Aria backed away in fear, that I didn¡¯t know would be visible in her, but the man was too quick. He grasped her by her hair, yanking her head back, and Aria cried out in pain.


    Frank reacted instantly, his face twisted in rage. "Get your filthy hands off her, motherfucker!" he exclaimed, launching himself at the man.


    But before he could reach him, two of the other men stepped forward, grabbing Frank¡¯s arms and pinning him to the floor.


    Frank struggled to fight back, but the men were too strong. They began beating the hell out of him, their fists flying as they punched and kicked him mercilessly.


    Frank¡¯s body jerked and twisted under the onslaught, his face contorted in agony. Aria screamed and screamed, trying to break free from the man¡¯s grasp, but he held her tightly.


    My ears were ringing, my heart thudding loudly in my chest.


    Aria struggled against the man who looked to be the leader of the group. "Stop hitting him, you dickheads!" Her hoarse voice screamed out to them.


    Spitting out insults, "Cowards, Get your disgusting hands off my brother."


    She threw a hand towards the man holding her hair, but he easily caught it and threw her against the wall with a sickening thud.


    The impact was so forceful that it created a dent in the wall, and Aria¡¯s body crumpled against it.


    Before she could even regain her balance, the man stormed over to her, his face twisted in rage.


    He grasped her hair again, pulling her back up and slamming her against the wall once more. Aria¡¯s body bounced off the wall, her head spinning wildly.


    The man began to kick her mercilessly, his heavy boots crashing into her stomach, chest, and face.


    I feared she would pass out from the brutal assault, but Aria surprised me by fueling the man¡¯s anger even more.


    "Dipshit! Idiot! Fuck you! We have no fucking money" she spat out insults continuously, her voice growing weaker but her defiance remaining strong.


    The man¡¯s face turned red with rage, his eyes bulging as he delivered blow after blow.


    Aria¡¯s body jerked and twisted under the heartless brutality and she tried to defending herself but the man was too powerful and too relentless.


    What should I do? I couldn¡¯t just stand hiding while Aria and Frank were beaten to death. Like Frank said, it had nothing to do with me.


    The man had talked about money, which clearly indicated that Aria and Frank owed these people some money. And these people were hell-bent on beating the money out of them.


    Frank was barely making a noise after the people brutally beat him. He lay motionless on the floor, his body battered and bruised.


    Aria, on the other hand, was spitting fire. She didn¡¯t stop talking, shouting, and throwing hands at them as they continued fighting her. It was now three hefty men against one lady.


    Aria picked up a beer bottle, smashing it down on one of their heads. She tried picking up another one, and I caught a glimpse of her face.


    I gasped, horrified by what I saw. Her face was hardly recognizable, her nose bleeding, and one eye beginning to swell.


    "Aria," my gasp was low and small, but it caught their attention. The men snapped their eyes towards me, and I saw how Aria¡¯s face changed into one of disappointment when she saw me.

 Chapter 43: ★Fuck my life, indeed★

    Chapter 43: ¡ïFuck my life, indeed¡ï


    ~Chapter 43~


    Seeing as all eyes turned towards me, suffocating me with their intense gaze.


    I tried to step back, but my feet felt heavy, rooted to the spot.


    "Aria," My voice was small, barely audible, I didn¡¯t even know why I was whispering her name again after my cover was blown.


    The men¡¯s faces contorted into cruel grins as their boss, hosting a scowl, fully faced me.


    His voice dripped with malice as he sneered, "Looks like we got ourselves a little witness." He took a quick step towards me.


    And Aria, who was anticipating his move, sprang into action. She smashed another glass against the heads of the men holding her as they were momentarily distracted by my presence.


    The sound of shattering glass and the men¡¯s pained yelps filled the air.


    "Leave her the fuck alone, she¡¯s got nothing to do with this!" She shouted, but that only enraged the men.


    Upon receiving the shattered glass, they retaliated by quickly holding Aria tightly against the wall. Her struggles were futile as they pinned her, harshly.


    The boss¡¯s scowling changed to a grin that spread across his lips in a sadistic smile.


    He raised an eyebrow, saying "Oh, really? Then why is she hiding in your room?" His voice was dripping with insinuation.


    Dread crept up my spine like a cold, slithering snake. The man took another step towards me, my heart rate spiking up the graph.


    Darting my eyes to Aria¡¯s, and she glared hard at me. I saw a warning there, a warning that seemed to scream "Why the fuck didn¡¯t you listen?"


    My pulse pounded in my ears. I couldn¡¯t just stand there and watch as they both got beaten to pulp.


    Taking another countless deep breath, I steadied my breathing, calming my racing heart that didn¡¯t want to calm at all.


    I wanted to show the man that I meant business


    "Leave them alone," My stupid voice shakes slightly and broke up in-between words.


    But to my surprise, it sounded brave and bold, unlike my quivering insides.


    The man¡¯s gaze narrowed, an eyebrow arching upward. He seemed clearly amused by my bravery as he mocked me. "Or what?" The sound of his growl sent shivers down my spine.


    I swallowed hard, trying to think of something to say. But my mind was a blank, racing with fear.


    And before I could respond, Aria¡¯s voice pierced the air like. Speaking up in a very lod voice.


    "Get the fuck back into that room, Katya!" she shouted and I so wanted to fire back at her, to tell her that I wouldn¡¯t leave her behind, but I hesitated, unsure of what to do or say at the moment.


    I didn¡¯t know the gravity of the situation and how much we are talking here, these men looked to be killers if they wanted to and there¡¯s no telling how much patience they had left in them.


    Frozen in place, teh man took another step towards me and just like that, he reached out a hand to grab me.


    I flinched, expecting him to hit me. And he did, the hit sending my brain shaking in my skull like a rag doll.


    The force of the blow was immense, my head spinning, my vision blurring. I saw stars circling my head and some colors dancing before my eyes.


    Trying to hold onto anything for support, but my arms felt like lead. My legs turning inti jelly beneath me, and I fell to the ground with a thud.


    The impact sent a shockwave through my body, and I thought my world went dark for a second.


    Falling to the ground, I hit the cold, hard floor with a thud. But still trying to regain balance.


    My eyes, I couldn¡¯t see clearly, struggling to see well. I blinked rapidly as my vision swirled and blurred.


    The force of the man¡¯s blow had left me reeling, my head pounding and my ears ringing and now my sight lost.


    "Where is my money?" the man growled, kicking me hard in the stomach, the impact sending a wave of nausea through me.


    I doubled over, gasping for breath as my diaphragm spasmed in agony. I don¡¯t have his money. I don¡¯t even know what money they¡¯re talking about. What the hell have I gotten myself into?


    "Where is my money, or your friend is going to be collateral damage." He emphasized each word with a kick, each blow landing to different destinations.


    Curling up into a ball, trying to protect myself from the kicks, I raised my hands to my face as he kicked again and again with precision and force.


    Feeling my ribs crack, my lungs burn, and my head spin. The man was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with exertion as he held onto the wall, kicking me with all his might.


    My world was shrinking, narrowing to a single point of pain and fear. I wouldn¡¯t last long, I couldn¡¯t even take much more.


    "Stop!" Aria screamed, hoarse and cracking from the constant shouting she had been doing.


    I was fading into the darkness, my eyes rolling into the back of my skull but I still struggled to stay conscious.


    The noises around me were drowning out, becoming a distant hum as my body succumbed to the pain.


    "Leave her alone!" Aria shouted again, but the man didn¡¯t stop. He kept kicking me, his foot connecting with my stomach, my chest, my head.


    Slowly, slipping away. My vision blurred, and my hearing dulled. I was trapped in a never-ending nightmare like always, unable to escape the torment.


    Just when I thought it was all over, that I had finally escaped the torture and abuse, I realized I was wrong.


    When I thought I would now see what the world brings, what the world looks like without the torture, I was faced with the harsh reality. I was now getting beaten to my death.


    "Where...is...my...money?" the man growled, his voice a distant echo in my mind.


    I shook my head, hoping to clear the cobwebs. "I...don¡¯t...know," I stammered barely loud enough. I was shaking like a leaf, trembling like I had be drenched in an icy ocean.


    My body hurt all over, every inch of me screaming in agony.


    Was I being torn apart? Because this was hell. My limbs shattered, my organs crushed.


    The pain was all-consuming.


    "I said where is my money," the man repeated, his voice growing louder. But I had nothing to give him.


    I didn¡¯t know what money he was talking about or even had any. All I knew was that I was dying, and I couldn¡¯t do anything to stop it.


    Lying limp on the floor, body battered and bruised. My head throbbing with pain, each beat of my heart sending a fresh wave of agony through my skull.


    The only thing I could barely whisper was a faint, desperate plea. "I don¡¯t know, I don¡¯t know, I don¡¯t know." These words tumbling out of my mouth.


    Suddenly, I heard a voice, a scream that cut through the haze of pain. "I have the money!" It was a woman¡¯s voice, but I couldn¡¯t quite place it. Was it Aria? I didn¡¯t know.


    My senses were reeling, my brain struggling to process what was happening. My brain wasn¡¯t even functioning.


    The man¡¯s presence moved away from me, and a tiny spark of relief drowned over me. I could finally breathe in, but my lungs burned, and I began coughing furiously.


    Tears streaming down my face, mixing with the knots of pain that wracked my body.


    Breath in..... Breath out.....As I lay there, I heard Aria¡¯s voice again moving in a rush, no doubt to save me.


    "I have the money but..." She paused, voice trembling slightly. I managed to peek open one of my eyes, wincing at the effort. Aria was still pinned to the wall, her eyes wide with fear.


    The man¡¯s face twisted in a snarl. "But...But what!" he growled, his patience clearly at an end.


    He looked like he was ready to kill, like he was done with the game Aria was playing.


    "But it¡¯s not here...I...i...i got it but not right now." She was shaking. It was so not like her, the confident, fearless Aria I had met just hours before.


    Now, she looked like a scared, vulnerable girl, desperate to save me from the clutches of this monster.


    "But not here?" He scoffed, looking at Aria like she had lost her senses. "I think I haven¡¯t shown you that your friend over there"He pointed over to me "...her life now depends on that money."


    "But she isn¡¯t my friend!" Aria screamed, cutting the man off.


    "She doesn¡¯t even know me for more than 6 hours, and she definitely doesn¡¯t have any business with our shit." Aria spat out the words, her anger and frustration boiling over.


    Stamping her foot into one of the men¡¯s legs, but he merely gave her a harsh slap in return.


    Aria breathed in deeply, her eyes closing in anger. "This is between us, don¡¯t bring innocent people into it," Her eyes were watering as she whispered in a cracked voice, while mine were flowing with tears of pain from my aching body.


    The boss stood in front of her, his twisted snarl still hosted on his face as he boomed. "Anyone that has made contact with you or that trash called your twin," he sneered, pointing to Frank, who was lying on the floor, limp and unconscious.


    His hand was twisted at a weird angle, he was in a much worse condition, he wasn¡¯t even moving or breathing from the angle I¡¯m seeing him.


    I had forgotten about Frank in the chaos, and it seemed he had also been beaten to unconsciousness.


    Aria¡¯s eyes held so much anger at the man¡¯s words. "My twin¡¯s name is Frank, dipshit," Aria retorted, still managing to talk back despite the danger.


    The man¡¯s face darkened, and he grabbed her by the neck, choking her. "I don¡¯t give two flying fuck about that dicks name nor yours," he spat out, tightening his grip.


    "Now, back to my fucking money. I¡¯m giving you both, and now her," he gestured to me, "to bring in that cash. You have until Monday. And if you fail this time around...just know your lives aren¡¯t yours anymore." He spat out the words, loud and clear, making sure I understood the gravity of the situation.


    A chill ran down my spine as I realized I was now embroiled in this mess, a mess I didn¡¯t sign up for.


    Fuck my life, indeed.

 Chapter 44: ★She lied★

    Chapter 44: ¡ïShe lied¡ï


    ~Chapter 44~


    As soon as the man finished delivering his ominous warning, he slammed Aria against the wall with a force that made her body bounce off the surface.


    The sound of her gasp was loud as day as it echoed through the room. The man nodded to his thugs, deeming that his warning was loud enough, he turned to leave.


    His goons fell into step behind him, their faces twisted into grins as they cast menacing glances over their shoulders.


    But before the bosses passed through the damaged door, his voice boomed out, words dripping with distain.


    "I¡¯m giving y¡¯all the grace till next month, the first Monday, or y¡¯all dead." His tone was deadly serious that it sent chills down the spine.


    The door slammed shut, they left us with the air heavy with tension. The echoes of their footsteps faded away, down the hallway.


    A single drop of water hitting the floor would have been deafening because of how much this stillness was suffocating.


    Aria¡¯s deep inhale of air shattered the silence, a sudden, sharp sound that made me flinch. She slowly picked herself up from the floor, her movements stiff and painful.


    Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at Frank¡¯s unmoving form.


    "Frank," Her whisper was barely audible that I strained my ears to hear her. I was still curled up in a ball against the wall, my body screaming in agony.


    Aria¡¯s eyes never left her brother¡¯s face and with a gentle touch, she rolled her twin onto his side, examining his dislocated hand with shaky eyes.


    Her trembling fingers probed the injury, testing the extent of the damage. Frank¡¯s hand hung limply, his wrist twisted at an unnatural angle.


    She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose herself and steel her nerves for what she was about to do.


    She¡¯s attempting to pop the joint back into place but her hands shook even more, I winced in sympathy, feeling a pang of pain on her behalf.


    Aria¡¯s face was set in concentration but her eyes still welled up with tears, flowing slowly.


    I watched as she rubbed her face harshly, as if trying to scrub away her emotions. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and her cheeks were streaked with tears.


    But despite her own distress, she refocused on Frank¡¯s injury, taking his dislocated hand again


    With a swift and quick motion, she popped the bone back into its original place. The sound of the joint snapping back into position was loud.


    "Fuck!!!" Frank¡¯s reaction was immediate and intense, he screamed, his voice hoarse and raw.


    Groaning in pain, his body arching off the floor as he was jolted out of unconsciousness.


    Frank¡¯s eyes blazed with fury as he glared at Aria, face twisted in a mixture of agony and rage.


    He cradled his injured hand against his chest, his fingers curling into a tight fist. "The fuck did you do, bitch?" he spat out with so much venom.


    Aria slumped her shoulders, relief and resignation showing on her face. She seemed to not care about the weight of her brother¡¯s anger as her eyes dropped to the floor, exhaling out.


    She rubbed her face again and looked up, our eyes met, and she shouted, "Shit!" Scrambling towards me with a speed that belied her own battered appearance.


    Her face was pale and her skin smeared with some blood wounds and tears. But despite her own pain, she focused on helping me.


    "I¡¯m so sorry," she whispered, hooking her arm into my elbow, gently helping me into a sitting position.


    I gasped, my body screaming in protest at the sudden movement. "Kat...Katya...I didn¡¯t expect this to happen," She released me while tumbling out in a frantic rush.


    "I swear, I¡¯m sorry...like you shouldn¡¯t have gotten into this...at all." She was rambling, her words becoming increasingly incoherent as my ears struggled to process the sounds.


    My head was still spinning from the blow, and Aria¡¯s words faded in and out of my consciousness.


    Dizzy and disoriented, my vision blurred at the edges. But as I looked into Aria¡¯s eyes, I saw a deep-seated fear and regret that easily echo my own.


    "Aria," I whispered through the haze of pain.


    "We...those people...they...." Aria still trailed off, her words faltering as I struggled to articulate my thoughts.


    "Aria!" I shouted this time, my voice louder, successfully gaining her attention to me, while running her hand through her locks.


    Aria¡¯s eyes snapped towards me, still running her hand through her hair, a nervous habit that betrayed her anxiety.


    Taking a deep breath, wincing as a sharp pain stabbed through my ribs. I could feel the warmth of blood trickling down my busted lips and nose, and my mouth was filled with the metallic taste of copper.


    "It¡¯s alright," I managed to gasp, pausing as it came out in ragged breaths. "I should have listened to you...when you said not to come out...but I didn¡¯t...so it¡¯s my fault." I paused again, inhaling deeply before continuing. "Not that I¡¯m self-blaming myself," I added with a painful smile.


    "It¡¯s not!" Aria exclaimed, running a hand through her locks again. Her gaze darted to Frank, who had managed to sit up against the wall opposite us, his eyes fixed on us.


    "You don¡¯t know what this is about, Katya and now you¡¯re in this mess with us." She said in a small voice.


    I frowned, questions swirling around my head. But one concern stood out above the rest. "What was the money they were talking about?" I said it out loud. That was my only concern because that was what the men were focused on.


    Aria¡¯s eyes clouded over, and she hesitated, shaking her head as she looked sideways. "What¡¯s going on, Aria?" I pressed, "I was almost beaten to death because of that money."


    Now wasn¡¯t the time to self blame or blame anyone, there¡¯s a problem in ground and what we need is a solution even when I wasn¡¯t the one who started it.


    My fate had always wanted me in the most dangerous situation, so this isn¡¯t new.


    Aria¡¯s eyes pleaded with me, "No, Katya, you don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve gotten yourself into. We could just part ways right now, and nothing would happen to you anymore. Don¡¯t drag yourself into this, please." She protested in a rush.


    Frank groaned in pain from his side and I glanced down at my own arms, still wrapped tightly around myself. The pain and shock were starting to wear off, replaced by a growing sense of uncertainty.


    Yes, I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d gotten myself into, and I didn¡¯t want to be involved. But I was in now, and it was too late to turn back.


    I¡¯ve always been quick to accept my destructive fate, because no matter how hard I try to avoid it, I always seem to find myself in the most dangerous situations.


    So it¡¯s alright, sniffing up my tears, I looked up at Aria "How much is the money?" I asked, firmly like I got some hidden cash or something.


    Frank¡¯s voice was weak but audible as he beats Aria and answered me "Two million dollars" His eyes closed as if the effort of speaking had exhausted him.


    "What!" My eyes widened in shock, my mind reeling at the enormity of the sum.


    Two million dollars? The amount echoed in my mind like a mantra, each repetition sending a fresh wave of shock through me.


    What kind of trouble had Aria and Frank gotten themselves into? And how on earth had they managed to accumulate such a staggering sum of money in the first place?


    The heck had I really gotten myself into, I glanced at Aria and she looked back at me, clicking her tongue and pouting as she glanced over at her twin brother.


    Frank, now sitting up with his eyes open, looked at me, wry. Sensing the tension emanating from both of them, their bodies language screaming that they were hiding something.


    They could clearly see the judgement look on my face at how huge the money was and I sighed, calmly my racing heart that was pounding loud in my ears.


    "Two...two million dollars," I stammered, managing to get the stuck words out of my throat.


    Aria nodded her head and Frank followed suit. "Yes"


    I swallowed hard, "And where is the money now?" The question was burning a hole in my brain, and I needed an answer.


    They couldn¡¯t have spent it all, could they? That amount was huge, and surely they must have some of it stashed away somewhere.


    Aria¡¯s words to the man earlier echoed in my mind - she had told him that she had the money, but it wasn¡¯t with her. Where was it, then?


    My first question still lingered in the air, unanswered, but I was hopeful that Aria¡¯s earlier claim was true.


    I asked, trying to sound calm and rational, "Aria, you said you had the money, right? But it wasn¡¯t here...let¡¯s go get it and return it to them." I thought it was a simple solution, one that could get us out of this mess.


    But no, Aria looked at me, her eyes narrowing as she side-eyed me from head to toe.


    Before I could even process her reaction, she scoffed, "I lied," Her words stung me like a slap in the face.


    "We didn¡¯t have the money. I just wanted him out of here today."


    She..she lied...My heart dropped, sinking deep into my stomach as I grasped the gravity of my situation.


    She...she lied. The words echoed in my mind, a cruel taunt.


    I couldn¡¯t believe it. I had escaped the mansion, only to get entangled in a debt I didn¡¯t even owe.


    The irony was bitter, and I couldn¡¯t wait for what next my dumb fate had installed for me.


    Great...fan..fucking...tastic.


    ??


    Sorry for only one Chapter):

 Chapter 45: ★Time to find a job★

    Chapter 45: ¡ïTime to find a job¡ï


    ~Chapter 45~


    "So what now?" I softly whispered out, the silence for the past fifteen minutes wearing down my shoulders like a physical weight.


    Aria and Frank had been quiet since they revealed the staggering amount of money they owed, each lost in their own thoughts.


    I tried to break the silence, again with my low stammering voice. "Can¡¯t we just maybe run, escape this city and hide in another? Yeah, let¡¯s do that, hmm." I pushed myself up, bumping Aria gently so she would look at me.


    Aria¡¯s eyes met mine, her expression was so damned sad, filled with resignation. "We can¡¯t," she pushed her legs into her chest hugging them.


    "They have eyes and ears, everywhere. Even if we hid inside a rock, they¡¯re bound to sniff us out. We tried before, and we didn¡¯t succeed, anyway. So, nope, out of options."


    Frank stirred,opening one eye slowly. "Aria¡¯s right. We¡¯ve tried running before. It didn¡¯t work. They always find us."


    I felt a cold dread creeping up my spine. If running wasn¡¯t an option, then what was? I looked at Aria and Frank, searching for any glimmer of hope. But all I saw was despair.


    "What do we do, then? We can¡¯t just sit here and wait for them to come for us."


    Aria¡¯s eyes dropped, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she mumbled, "We have half a million at the moment." Her words shocked me to my core.


    Half a million dollars? They had that amount already? That was a significant chunk of the debt they owed.


    I stared at Frank before looking back at aria and, chirped. "That¡¯s good, why didn¡¯t you give it to them?" I asked, confused at their antic of not giving them the money.


    "Because we still need the money." Aria said, ridiculously and I frowned.


    Frustration cursing through me, my voice rised in response. "Still need the money, Aria? We¡¯re talking about our lives here! That debt collector didn¡¯t seem like the kind of person who would hesitate to hurt us if we don¡¯t pay up."


    Aria¡¯s face twisted in a both pain and resolve. "I know, Katya. Believe me, I know. But we can¡¯t just give them everything we have. We need some of that money for...other things."


    Her words trailed off, leaving me wondering what those "other things" could be. But those other things couldn¡¯t possibly better than our lives and I pressed.


    "I¡¯m talking about lives here!" Aria cuts off, glaring hard at me.


    "And that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about too," she exclaimed, standing up from the ground.


    She stood up abrupt and restless, as she marched over to the coffee table, snatching up the cigarette pack and a lighter, her fingers shaking slightly as she lit one up.


    Aria began to pace back and forth across the room, the smoke from her cigarette swirling around her.


    I watched her with growing confusion. "Aria, I don¡¯t understand," I whispered slowly, my eyes fixed on her agitated form.


    Aria¡¯s pacing slowed, and she turned to face me, her face holding so much emotions, that I couldn¡¯t quite pinpoint....anger.. frustrated or totally done.


    "Our mom is sick, seriously sick," she said, dragging in the cigarette. "That¡¯s why we got into this huge debt. We needed the money to pay for her treatment, and we still need more to fully cover her bills."


    Aria took a long drag on her cigarette, exhaling. "It¡¯s not like we won¡¯t pay," she added, defensive. "Just not now. And like I said, it¡¯s none of your problems, Katya. You shouldn¡¯t have gotten into this, and I¡¯m sorry."


    Frank¡¯s eyes flicked open again, and he watched his twin before looking at me "We¡¯re deeply sorry, Katya," he added, weak but sincere.


    "It¡¯s alright," I said softly but I meant it. I had already resigned myself to the fact that my life was going to be cut short, one way or another.


    Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just the hand I had been dealt. Either way, I had learned to accept it.


    But despite that, a spark of hope lights up inside me. Maybe, just maybe, I could find something or someone to make this miserable existence worthwhile before I went. And maybe, just maybe, Aria and Frank could be that something.


    I looked at them, searching for any sign of deception or manipulation, of they were playing with me. But all I saw was desperation, fear, and a deep-seated sadness.


    The reason for their debt, it turned out, was not some frivolous vice or reckless spending spree, like I had intentionally thought but It was something much more relatable, much more human.


    They had been desperate to save their mother¡¯s life, and they had taken a risk to do it.


    And I knew, in that moment, that I had already forgiven them for the beating I had taken at the hands of those men.


    I nodded slowly, processing this new information. "So what now?" I asked them, my voice a little stronger now. "You both have a job, right?"


    Aria and Frank nodded in unison but their face was grim "We do. But we don¡¯t earn enough to survive daily, talk less of paying a debt. We¡¯re barely scraping by as it is." Frank answered.


    I bit back a sarcastic comment, tempted to point out the irony that they couldn¡¯t afford to live, but somehow managed to scrape together enough money for cigarettes and beer.


    The air in their apartment was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and stale beer, a constant reminder of their addiction.


    It was clear that Aria and Frank were heavily addicted, and it showed in the way they moved, the way they spoke, and the way they lived...I shouldn¡¯t be judging but it was the way i saw them.


    Aria continued to pace, the cigarette dangling from her lips as she exhaled a stream of smoke. It was still early in the morning, and who the hell smoked this early. Didn¡¯t they need coffee, or breakfast, or something? The thought of their sick mother flashed through me.


    But I pushed aside my curiosity about their mother¡¯s illness, not wanting to pry into something so personal. Instead, I focused on the pressing issue at hand. "How many days till next month?" I asked.


    Aria¡¯s pacing creased and she turned to face me, her eyes clouded with worry. "Two weeks," she said, barely above audible, scratching her arm harshly, getting me all worried at her behavior.


    "We have just two weeks to get the money ready, and it¡¯s impossible." Frank, who had been quietly observing the exchange, spoke up with resignation.


    "We¡¯ll never make it," he said, shaking his head.


    Aria lit up another cigarette, her hands shaking slightly as she handed it to Frank. He took it with a nod of thanks, his eyes locking onto the cigarette as if it were a lifeline.


    Their constant reliance on cigarettes and beer was starting to get to me, the smell and sight of it grating on my nerves.


    This wasn¡¯t healthy, I tried pushing this aside alongside my frustration, focusing on the more pressing issue at hand. "I should find a job too," I said out loud.


    I needed a job, not just to help with the debt, but to survive. And maybe, just maybe, with this extra income, we could scrape together enough to pay for their mom¡¯s medical bills.


    "You don¡¯t have too." Aria opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off.


    "I need to," I interjected, looking at my weak arms. "Even if there wasn¡¯t this debt, I would still need a job to survive. I¡¯m not exactly swimming in cash, you know."


    Aria sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. She nodded slowly, "Alright then. But not right now." She moved towards me, her hands reaching out to help me up from the couch.


    "Right now, you¡¯re injured badly. Let¡¯s try patching ourselves up before we head out." I winced as I stood, my body aching from the beating I had taken. But I gritted my teeth, pushing myself through the pain.


    Frank slowly helped himself to his feet, wincing in pain as he cradled his dislocated arm.


    We all trudged off to our respective rooms, exhausted and battered. Aria and I headed to her room, the small space cramped but somehow comforting.


    Aria slipped out of the room, leaving me alone for a moment. I took the opportunity to look around, taking in the limited furnishings and the few personal touches that made the space feel like hers.


    She returned with a bowl of water and a small cloth, setting them down on the bedside table.


    "Not much, I know," she said, nodding towards the bowl. "We don¡¯t have a steady water supply, but this should do for now."


    I accepted the offering gratefully, memories flooding back of the countless times I¡¯d had to make do with similarly meager resources when I was trapped in my abusive father¡¯s home.


    Cleaning up as best I could, wincing as I gently washed my wounded face and body.


    Aria rummaged through her small closet, emerging with a handful of clothes that looked like they might fit me.


    Gratefully taking them from her, I began to dress up and Aria quickly dressed up too.


    We nodded at eachother before we headed back out into the main room.


    Frank was already sitting on the couch, his dislocated arm wrapped in a makeshift bandage.


    He looked up as we entered as aria called out to him, "Let¡¯s go."


    Frank nodded, slowly getting to his feet. I could see the pain etched on his face at moving his arm aroun, but he didn¡¯t complain.


    My head and body still ached but time to find a job to survive this hell.

 Chapter 46: ★Boris is alive★

    Chapter 46: ¡ïBoris is alive¡ï


    ~Chapter 46~


    ROMEO


    Climbing back into the sleek, black sedan, I lit up a cigarette, the flame from the lighter casting a warm glow on my face.


    Glancing out the window, gazing up at the night sky as the car glided smoothly out of the cemetery¡¯s winding driveway.


    The trees, adorned with leaves that rustled softly in the evening breeze, faded to a blur into the darkness.


    It¡¯s that time of the month again, a ritual I¡¯d performed for years, when I¡¯d visit the old couple who lay resting in the cemetery.


    Bringing flowers, my mom favorite blooms, and a bottle of fine whiskey to keep my dad company, a small gesture to honor their memory.


    The familiar routine brought comfort, a brief respite from the chaos that often surrounded me but it also brought pain, anger and more fuel to avenge them.


    Inhaling deeply, trying to get my mind off the oldies, the smoke from my cigarette curled upwards, weaving through the car¡¯s interior.


    I looked down at my phone screen as it lit up, brightening the dark leather seats. Antonio¡¯s name flashed on the screen, and I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he wanted at this late hour and when he knew I didn¡¯t want to be bothered.


    I clicked the answer button as I brought it to my ear. Dragging in a smoke, I answered with a curt "Si?"


    The sound of Antonio¡¯s voice was immediate, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush.


    "ROMEO! You need to get out of the car right now!" Antonio¡¯s voice was shrill, screaming into my eardrum but before I could respond, a deafening explosion shook the ground.


    The blast wave rocked the car, making it shudder and lurch to one side.


    Rabid gunfire followed, the staccato bursts echoing off the cemetery¡¯s stone monuments. Antonio¡¯s voice was a distant background noise, lost in the chaos.


    I gazed out the window, my eyes scanning the darkness. Our car was surrounded, the shadows cast by the cemetery¡¯s trees hiding the attackers.


    The muzzle flashes from their guns illuminated the night, telling me their locations.


    "Fuck," I muttered, there wasn¡¯t any backup, not during my visit to the cemetery. I never came here with anyone except James, my driver. We were alone, and we were outnumbered


    James swiftly retrieved his gun from the holster, his eyes moving to the surrounding threats.


    I mirrored his action, pulling out my own pistol, the familiar weight of it a comforting presence in my hand.


    Who the hell wants to see their creator this early for ambushing me, today of all days? Anger simmering beneath my surface.


    I took one final drag on my cigarette, the smoke curling out of my mouth as I flicked the butt away.


    Pushing open the car door in haste, these dense idiots couldn¡¯t even wait for me to leave the cemetery.


    The air was thick with smoke from the explosion, the acrid smell burning into my nostrils.


    But it also gave me an advantage - the dense fog allowed me to move stealthily, unseen by the attackers.


    I focused down at my baby -Gun- taking a deep breath, preparing to make a move, when a gunshot whizzed past my ear, the sound making me duck back into the car.


    "Shit" I cursed under my breath. They got a fucking sniper, this motherfuckers really planned this through.


    James appeared at my side, his gun at the ready, as I noticed my phone was still connected to the call with Antonio. He pushed the phone towards me and I took it.


    "What!" I spat into the phone, frustration and annoyance etched in my voice.


    Antonio¡¯s words were a distant hum, a nagging reminder that he still thought I needed to be told what to do, even in the midst of a kill-or-die situation.


    "Romeo, don¡¯t do anything stupid, the car is bulletproof, so stay put. Backup is on the way," Antonio¡¯s voice droned on, laced with a paternal concern that grated on my nerves.


    He, of all people, should know better than to think I¡¯d stay put and wait for rescue. That wasn¡¯t how I operated.


    These idiots who ambushed me are in for a treat, just wait and see, motherfuckers, I thought, a cold smile spreading across my face.


    Antonio was still speaking but I cut him off "Be here before I¡¯m done," I barked into the phone, cutting off his response.


    Fucking old man, always trying to tell me to be safe, when he knew damn well the kind of job we were both in. I didn¡¯t need his lectures or his concern.


    I turned to James and nodded curtly. "Cover me." He returned the nod.


    And with a quick movement, I stood up, shooting without hesitation, but with precision, taking out the cowards one by one.


    The sound of gunfire echoed through the cemetery, the muzzle flashes illuminating the darkness.


    I moved with a deadly efficiency, my training and experience guiding my every move.


    Fuck, someone shot me in the shoulder, the searing pain radiating through my arm like wild fire.


    I knew instantly that it was the fucking sniper, his bullet finding its mark. I gritted my teeth, biting back a curse as I hid back behind a nearby gravestone, the cold marble a welcome respite from the hail of bullets that kept raining down.


    This was a blood bath, I reloaded my gun while I assessed the damage, pressing a hand to my shoulder, feeling the warmth of my own blood seeping through my fingers.


    The wound was superficial, but it still stung like hell. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the fight ahead again.


    James was firing away, I watched, impressed, as he took down attacker after attacker.


    Good thing he wasn¡¯t just a driver, but my bodyguard too. His skills were invaluable in a situation like this.


    I took the view around the place, taking stock of the situation. There were about twenty of them, and I¡¯d managed to take out seven.


    If I was correct, about four more were injured, and James had taken out a few more.That left around ten, unless there were more snipers lurking in the shadows.


    Pushing myself out from behind the gravestone, I began firing back. The sniper shot near me again, but I just smirked, noticing that he wasn¡¯t aiming to kill me.


    That was their mistake. They thought they could take me alive, but I had news for them: Romeo Salvatore didn¡¯t get taken alive, it was kill or get killed.


    They send their men after me, but not to kill me, no, that would be too easy. They want to capture me, to take me alive, to break me and have the ego to say they were the ones.


    But that¡¯s their mistake. They can¡¯t kill me, and that¡¯s what makes me so deadly. I know their tactics, their weaknesses, and I exploit them fully.


    This realization boosted my adrenaline, fueling my my steps to take down the remaining attackers.


    One by one, they dropped to the ground, their bodies crumpling under the rain of bullets. The sniper kept playing around with me, shooting near and closer to me but fuck him.


    Some minutes ticked by, the silence punctuated only by the distant hum of sirens and the occasional shots from gunfire.


    Currently I hid behind a pillar, my eyes fixed on the sniper¡¯s last known position. He was enraged now, literally foaming at the mouth, his shots wild and unpredictable. But I was patient, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.


    The cemetery was a scene of carnage, the attackers¡¯ bodies scattered across the grounds like discarded rag dolls.


    James had retreated to the car, following my instructions to provide cover from a safe distance.


    Now, I waited for Antonio to arrive, to bring in the backup and capture the damned sniper. I wanted him alive, wanted to know who was behind this ambush, and why.


    Antonio better be on his way right now, I lit up a cigarette and looked down at my gun, the intricate engraving of my name on the barrel gleaming in the moonlight.


    Romeo Salvatore, a name that commanded respect, inspired fear. I was a force to be reckoned with, and those who dared to cross me would suffer the consequences.


    "Romeo!" The shout cut through the night air, and I scoffed, recognizing Antonio¡¯s voice.


    About time. I pushed myself out from behind the pillar, the sniper¡¯s gunfire ceasing as Antonio¡¯s unneeded team moved in.


    The noise was a mixture of shouts, gunfire, and screeching tires, a symphony of chaos that signaled the end of the ambush.


    He shouted my name again, and I walked slowly towards him. I reached his side and tapped his shoulder to get his attention, my eyes narrowing slightly.


    "What!" I exclaimed, low and irritated. Old man doesn¡¯t know when to chill and calm the fuck down.


    He¡¯s always worried, always on edge, like I¡¯m his damned kid. I rolled my eyes inwardly.


    He should really try getting married again, producing a kid to focus all his worries on. Someone who¡¯d actually appreciate his concern.


    Antonio turned to face me, his expression serious, his eyes somber which got me bothered.


    I¡¯m the serious one among us, the one who¡¯s always on guard. And him looking this serious, even when he could clearly see I was okay ¨C well, apart from the shoulder injury, I was okay ¨C meant something was off.


    This wasn¡¯t about the ambush; this was something else entirely.


    "Boris is alive," Antonio voice was low and grave and my eyes snapped to his, cigarette hanging down my lips.


    Shock coursing through me like ice. What! That bastard was burnt to death, a smoldering corpse left in the ashes.


    How the heck did he survive the fire? I felt a growl building in my throat as I processed the news.


    Boris, that slippery, sadistic son of a bitch. I¡¯d thought I¡¯d finally rid myself of him, but it seemed he¡¯d managed to cheat death once again.

 Chapter 47: ★Traitors★

    Chapter 47: ¡ïTraitors¡ï


    ~Chapter 47~


    ROMEO


    ????


    Walking out the car, the morning sun cleared the road as I walked with heavy feet and a scowling face that reflected the turmoil brewing inside,


    My eyes narrowed into slits as my finger rested lightly on the trigger. My gun was at ready to shoot those incompetent fools, who couldn¡¯t burn a house with someone in it.


    And to make matters worse, they had double-crossed me, aiding my enemy¡¯s escape from the death I had ordained for him


    How dare they?


    Antonio fell into step beside me, his eyes drafting on and off me with both concern and caution. He knew I was beyond angry and he knew when to shut it.


    The front door swung open, pushed by the guards who nodded their respect as we passed.


    Their deference was a reminder of my power and authority, and I accepted it as my due, my anger and resentment burning brighter with every step.


    The eight-hour car ride back to my estate felt like an eternity, but I knew it could have taken longer if James hadn¡¯t floored it.


    He knew me well enough to recognize the signs of my simmering rage, and he wisely chose to get me home as quickly as possible.


    Boris? Boris Volkov¡¯s name repeated in my mind fueling my fury.


    That bastard was supposed to be dead, but somehow he¡¯d managed to cheat fate once again.


    And I was damned sure he¡¯d had a hand in the ambush, Ivan was likely involved as well, those two were thick as thieves, and I couldn¡¯t wait to make them pay, specifically Ivan, that monster was a snake who hides and let¡¯s his pawns do his biddings.


    "Bring me the bastard daughter," I barked orders at Antonio, striding towards the basement, my footsteps bouncing off the walls.


    I didn¡¯t bother with the elevator, my mind consumed by visions of torture and retribution.


    The need to make them suffer, to make them beg for mercy, was cursing through me and I wanted his daughter to watch it all.


    I stormed down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, as Antonio peeled off to attend to his tasks.


    Two men stood at attention outside the door and they nodded curtly as I approached, their hands moving in to push open the door that concealed the traitors.


    I stepped into the room, my eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. Five figures were tied to chairs, their eyes wide with terror as they took in my imposing form.


    My gaze swept across their faces, lingering on the pleading expressions, the gagged mouths, and the quivering bodies.


    Good! They knew they were doomed, and they knew they deserved it. But before I ended their miserable lives, I needed entertainment.


    My gun hand rose, the muzzle pointing at the first traitor, not even bothering to look at his face, didn¡¯t care to know his name or his story.


    He was nothing to me, just a disposable pawn in a game he didn¡¯t even understand.


    Bang! The first gunshot echoed through the room, as the ugly traitor¡¯s body slumped forward, his head lolling to one side like a broken toy.


    I strode to the second traitor, his quivering form almost made me laugh as I posed my question.


    "Who¡¯s dying next?" The traitors exchanged terrified glances, their bodies shaking violently as they struggled against their restraints. Oh fuck them, they could have thought this through before dreaming of betrayal.


    They all shook their head in denial of death as I sauntered over to the table. I was in no hurry to end their lives.


    Oh no, I was going to savor every moment of their agony. They had failed me, and now they would pay the price.


    "You all got guts, I¡¯ll give you that," I sneered, my gaze sweeping across their petrified faces. "Being a traitor takes courage, or maybe just stupidity."


    I dropped my gun onto the table and my eyes landed on my trusty vest, adorned with an array of torture tools, my playground.


    This was going to be a wild time. My gaze settled on Chopper, my favorite knife, I named it chopper and we go a long way back~Tsk, the good old time~.


    Chopper sleek design and razor-sharp edge made it the perfect instrument for inflicting pain.


    I picked up Chopper, swirling it around my hand with a joy.


    A grin spread across my face as I turned to face the shaking traitors. Their eyes widened in terror as they took in the sight of my baby. Their minds must be racing with the horrors I was about to unleash upon them.


    Strolling back to the traitors, my footsteps were slow like a snail. I wanted them to know that their deaths wouldn¡¯t be swift or merciful, unlike the hideous first guy I¡¯d shot.


    No, their demise would be a prolonged, agonizing spectacle.


    As I approached my first victim, I saw the terror etched on his face. His eyes bulged, and his body shook violently, straining against his binds.


    He was going to be an example to the others, a demonstration of the horrors that awaited them.


    I didn¡¯t bother asking questions about their betrayal or how Boris managed to escape with their help.


    The deed was done, and now it was my turn to exact revenge. The first guy¡¯s muffled voice was barely audible, a pitiful whimper that I had no interest in hearing.


    I didn¡¯t care about his excuses or pleas for mercy; all I cared about was making him suffer.


    My hand tightened around the hilt of Chopper as I finally reached him.


    "I never deemed you to be a traitor, Sam," I said, slowly circling him.


    The other traitors watched in horror, knowing they were next. "Betraying me is the most stupid thing to do, you know," I continued, rolling chopper against his shoulder.


    "You¡¯d think you¡¯d know better than to cross me, sam" I drawled out his name, stopping at his back and I looked down at him as he struggled to locate me in the dimly lit room.


    His eyes darted wildly, but I remained just out of sight, my presence marked only by the sound of my heavy breathing.


    Raising Chopper near his ear, I whispered, "Is this the ear they whispered to when you were given the job to betray me?" My breath caressed his skin, sending goosebumps raising over his skin.


    Without waiting for a response, I began to carve a bloody path around his ear, the knife gliding effortlessly through his skin.

 Chapter 48: ★Bitch of a cousin★

    Chapter 48: ¡ïBitch of a cousin¡ï


    ~Chapter 48~


    Sam screamed into his gag, the sound muffled but still audible. I dragged the knife towards his right eye, the blade slicing through skin and muscle with ease.


    Blood splattered everywhere, some of it landing on my face, others staining my suit. But I didn¡¯t care ¨C bathing in the blood of my enemies was the ultimate victory.


    As Sam¡¯s screams grew louder, I leaned in closer, my face inches from his. "You should have stayed loyal. Now, you¡¯ll never speak again." I clicked my tongue when Sam wildly began to struggle.


    "What, you have something to say?" I sneered, my face contorting in disgust as a putrid stench wafted through the air.


    The hell is that disgusting smell coming from, snapping my face towards the source of the smell, my eyes landed onto one of the traitors, Dan or David - I couldn¡¯t care less what his name was.


    His face had turned a sickly shade of green, and his eyes were wide with terror as he realized he¡¯d lost control of his bowels.


    Motherfucker just shit himself, My gaze lingered on him for a moment before I turned back to Sam.


    My anger and disgust boiling over and without mercy I stabbed Chopper into Sam¡¯s face, the blade sinking deep into his skin.


    I left it there, the knife protruding from his face in a gruesome way, as I stormed back to my favorite table.


    I stopped at it, looking down at my next tool and I snatched up a syringe, its contents already loaded and ready to be administered.


    My eyes roamed over to the pooper, who¡¯d soiled himself, and I strode towards him.


    I wasn¡¯t even near him when his eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward, his body limp and lifeless.


    The coward had fainted, unable to handle the terror that was to come.


    *****


    Pathetic. So, this sniveling coward was this weak even when he chose to betray me?


    I shook my head in disappointment, my eyes fixed on his trembling form and I stepped closer, the syringe glinting in the dim light as I stabbed it into his neck.


    The needle slid in and I depressed the plunger, injecting the deadly contents into his bloodstream. Fucking coward.


    Stepping back to watch my masterpiece but nothing seemed to happen.


    But then, his eyes snapped open, and he began to tremble violently. His eyes changed color, turning a sickly shade of yellow as blood vessels burst, flooding his irises with crimson.


    His nose began to bleed, the blood trickling down his face. Even his gagged mouth began to seep blood, the fabric staining red as he struggled to breathe.


    The substance I¡¯d injected was a special concoction, designed to induce internal bleeding, organ failure, and a slow, agonizing death.


    It was a torture device, wrapped in a needle and a vial of liquid hell and drum roll....I made it myself.


    The door burst open, just when I was savoring my art and traitor suffering.


    Antonio strode in, his face apologetic and that made me frown. I¡¯d instructed him to bring Boris¡¯s daughter, but he was empty-handed. My gaze narrowed, my anger began to simmer just below the surface.


    I spun around, my face splattered with Sam blood, my eyes blazing with fury. "Where is she?" I demanded, my mood changing drastically.


    The proud Antonio hesitated, his eyes darting nervously around the room before settling on mine.


    He shook his head, "She escaped."


    Escaped? How was that possible? This estate was a fortress, with layers of security and guards patrolling every inch of the grounds.


    And yet, Antonio here was telling me that a weak little human had managed to slip through our fingers.


    The hell did that happen? I felt a vein popped and pulse in my temple as I struggled to contain my rage.


    Stalking back to the table, I snatched up my gun, the familiar weight of it comforting in my hand. I raised it to Antonio¡¯s head, my finger hovering over the trigger.


    Fuck! Boris was still alive, and now his daughter had escaped. What was next? Ivan walking through my front door, a smug smile on his face?


    Antonio didn¡¯t flinch, his eyes locked on mine with a steady gaze. He knew I wouldn¡¯t pull the trigger - not yet, anyway.


    But I wanted the old man to sweat, to know that he was responsible for this debacle.


    "How the fuck did she leave this heavily guarded place?" I growled, my fingers itched on the trigger, eager to unleash a bullet into the old man brain.


    I took a step closer to him until the gun pressed to his head. "Tell me," I hissed "Tell me exactly how she escaped."


    Antonio¡¯s expression remained calm with a deep understanding. He knew me better than to think I¡¯d actually pull the trigger.


    I was furious, but I wasn¡¯t reckless. With a deep sigh, I lowered the gun, my finger relaxing off the trigger.


    Turning my attention to the traitors, my gaze sweeping across their terrified faces.


    I wouldn¡¯t kill Antonio but that doesn¡¯t mean I wouldn¡¯t unleash my frustration somewhere else.


    In one swift motion, I raised my gun and fired, the bullet striking the first traitor, his skull exploded in a spray of blood and bone as his body slumped forward, instantly.


    I repeated the process, firing bullet after bullet into the skulls of the remaining traitors. Their bodies crumpled, their lives extinguished in an instant.


    As the last body hit the floor, Antonio finally spoke up. "Adelasia was the cause," His voice low and measured.


    My eyes snapped back to him, my anger reigniting at the mention of my cousin¡¯s name.


    My stupid cousin, Adelasia. She was the reason Boris¡¯s daughter had escaped. She was the reason I¡¯d been embarrassed and humiliated.


    I hated her, hated her with every fiber of my being. My hands clenched into fists as I tried controlling my anger not to match over to that bitch place and kill off a family member.

 Chapter 49: ★Who are they?★

    Chapter 49: ¡ïWho are they?¡ï


    ~Chapter 49~


    Katya


    "Welcome to ¡¯The Cozy Cup,¡¯ what can I get for you on this beautiful morning?" I flashed a warm, radiant smile as I greeted the elderly woman.


    My voice smooth, melodious, and welcoming, standing in a white shirt and dark slacks, my hair neatly tied in a sleek bun, and my pen poised over my notepad, ready to take her order like I was taught.


    The soft light of the cafe? danced across my face, illuminating the faint scars and bruises that still lingered from my ordeal.


    It had been two days since my near death experience and three days since my narrowed escape from Mr Salvatore¡¯s estate, and I was still on high alert.


    The memories still lingered and so was the injuries, etched in my mind like a vivid nightmare and my body.


    I was still on high alert, senses heightened, and heart racing with every sudden noise. But I knew I had to keep moving, to blend in, stay hidden, and work tirelessly to pay off the debts and the twins¡¯ mom¡¯s bills.


    I¡¯d taken on a daunting task of juggling not one, but two jobs. By day, I work as friendly waiter at ¡¯The Cozy Cup,¡¯ a charming, quaint little cafe? nestled in the heart of the town


    The cafe? was renowned for serving the most delicious pastries and aromatic coffee in town, or so I¡¯d heard from the friendly regulars who frequented the space.


    My shift ran from the crack of dawn till late afternoon, and I some how manage to find solace in the bustling atmosphere, the clinking of cups, and the warm chatter of the friendly regular.


    And by night, I work as a bartender at ¡¯Midnight¡¯ a trendy bar that served up craft cocktails and drew in a lively crowd.


    It was the perfect cover for a girl on the run¨C who would ever think to look for me in a busy bar or ca?fe?


    Aria and Frank had also secured additional jobs, which was a blessing, considering the staggering amount they owed.


    The more jobs we landed, the better our chances of paying off their debts. I recalled the day we went job hunting, and how both of my prospective bosses had taken one look at my battered face and asked what had happened.


    "I was jumped. They stole everything I had, beat me almost to death, and now I have no job and no money." I remembered Aria¡¯s lie, the one she had concocted to explain my injuries, and how surprisingly effective it had been.


    The sympathy was high, and both bosses took pity on me, offering me the job on the spot.


    I felt guilty because of how sympathetic they were but it was a small white lie and it worked wonders.


    *****


    "A cappuccino with a slice of lemon pound cake, please," the elderly woman said, gently.


    Snapping my eyes back to hers, my pen poised over my notepad as I carefully took down her order. The words barely readable as I still learnt how to write correctly.


    "Coming right up," I chimed, forcing a bright smile onto my face.


    Smiling was an unwritten rule at ¡¯The Cozy Cup,¡¯ and I knew I wouldn¡¯t dare not greet a customer with a warm, welcoming smile.


    I walked back to the counter, the elderly woman¡¯s order clutched in my hand, and made my way to the espresso machine.


    "Cappuccino and a slice of lemon pound cake," I said to John, the chef, as I handed him the order.


    He looked up from the pastry he was arranging, a charming grin spreading across his face. "Well, good morning to you too, Katya," he said, straightening his posture and abandoning the task at hand.


    For a moment, he just gazed at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. A flutter in my chest, but I quickly pushed it aside.


    Focus! Customers were waiting, and I had a job to do.


    "Good morning," I mumbled the words slowly, barely above a whisper. John was standing in front of me, his warm smile and piercing gaze making me feel uncomfortable.


    Recalling our first meeting, when he had surprisingly expressed his interest in me, despite my battered face. His words still lingered in my mind: "You¡¯re beautiful, Katya...if I ever find the guys who did this to you, I¡¯ll take them down."


    Ofcourse I had brushed off his comment, attributing it to mere politeness, but his sincerity had left me shock or flustered.


    I¡¯d lied to him too, spinning the same yarn I¡¯d told my boss - that I¡¯d been jumped, beaten, and left for dead. It was a unbelievable tale but still good.


    John¡¯s voice broke the silence. "Why the long face, my love?" He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine, but I instinctively stepped back, creating some distance between us.


    Hastily handing him the order. "A cappuccino, a slice of lemon pound cake, and I¡¯ll be on my way." My words were curt, but I couldn¡¯t help it. John¡¯s proximity made me feel uneasy, and I needed to escape.


    I turned on my heels, scanning the cafe? for my next customer. A young lady, seated at a table by the window, her eyes glued to her phone.


    Typical. She didn¡¯t even look up as I neared, too oblivious to her surroundings, her fingers flying across the screen as she typed away.


    I approached her table, my fake smile plastered on my face, ready to take her order.


    "Welcome to ¡¯The Cozy Cup,¡¯ what can I get for you on this beautiful morning?" My voice bright and cheerful, as I stood beside her table.


    These words had become my water, a familiar refrain that I repeated countless times throughout my shift.


    Yet, despite the repetition, they never seemed to lose their warmth or sincerity, maybe.


    The girl didn¡¯t even flinch. She didn¡¯t raise her head, didn¡¯t make eye contact, and didn¡¯t respond.


    Deep breaths, Katya deep breaths. I pushed it aside, taking a deep breath as I reminded myself to remain patient and professional.


    Smiling again, my lips curling upward in a warm, inviting smile. "Welcome to ¡¯The Cozy Cup,¡¯ what can I get for you on this beautiful morning?" I repeated, my voice slightly louder this time, as I tried to pierce the bubble of her distraction.


    I paused, waiting for a response, willing her to look up and engage with me.


    But she remained engrossed , her fingers flying across the screen of her phone as she typed away.


    Frustrated but composed, I suppressed my annoyance, knowing I couldn¡¯t let it get the better of me.


    With a quiet sigh, I decided to move on, leaving her to her phone-induced trance. But just as I was about to shift my attention to the next table, she finally responded.


    "Just tea," she said, curt and dismissive.


    Rude! I nodded politely, struggling not to show my irritation. "Cup of tea," I repeated, my tone neutral, as I dropped the order onto my notepad.


    I quickly moved on to pick up the elderly lady¡¯s order, which John had already prepared.


    As I reached for the tray, I expected John to make some comment or joke, but instead, he remained silent, his attention focused elsewhere.


    That¡¯s weird, I thought, looking back at him. But John wasn¡¯t even acknowledging me.


    I followed his eyes direction and that¡¯s when I spotted them- His eyes were fixed on two men who had just walked into the cafe?, dressed in suits, one holding a briefcase.


    Who are they? My heart rate spiked, racing with anticipation as I feared the worst.


    Have I been caught? Has Mr. Salvatore finally tracked me down? A chill ran down my spine, and my hands began to shake.


    Forcing myself to take slow, cautious steps towards the elderly lady¡¯s table, trying to maintain my anxiety.


    I pasted a kind smile on my face, giving out the cheerful sound, "Enjoy your meal!" I beamed, dropping my eyes to my feet as I hastily retreated from the table.


    The worst-case scenarios, was what my mind was conjuring and I dreaded the thought of approaching the two men in suits.


    Hoping against all odds that they weren¡¯t who my paranoid mind was making them to be, I steeled myself, wiping my sweaty palms and approached their table.


    My fake smile spread across my face like a mask, and I began the usual greeting. Here goes nothing, "Welcome to ¡¯The Cozy Cup,¡¯ what can I get for both of you on this beautiful morning?"


    Both men snapped their eyes towards my face, their gazes piercing. I almost fainted, my heart skipping a beat.


    Their eyes seemed to bore into my soul, and I felt like drowning in their intense gaze.


    Why are they looking at me like that? Oh lord, this is not good. Just order your damned meal and be on your way, I silently pleaded.


    My smile was slowly dipping, my lips trembling with the effort of maintaining a facade of calmness.


    Stop being paranoid! I screamed in my head, my inner voice in jumbled panic.


    Shutting my eyes, taking a deep breath as I tried to calm my racing thoughts. But as I opened my eyes and looked back at the two men, my heart sank. I knew, with a sinking feeling, that I had spoken those words out loud.


    The air around us thicken, my face burning with embarrassment at my slip-up.


    What had I just done?

 Chapter 50: ★Blue eyes man★

    Chapter 50: ¡ïBlue eyes man¡ï


    ~Chapter 50~


    What¡¯s happening to me.


    My mind was reeling, thoughts swirling, head spinning, as if it was detached from my body, leaving me dizzy and disoriented.


    Just as I thought I was about to pass out, a hand clamped down on my shoulder, freaking me out.


    I flinched, my body jerking violently. One of the men, the taller one with mesmerizing blue eyes, had stood up from his chair, his hand grasping my shoulder.


    "Are you alright?" His voice was so soothing, like a gentle breeze on a summer day.


    He spoke softly, like he was speaking to a fragile child, but his deep voice was like a rich chocolate that enveloped me in its warmth.


    My palm getting slick with sweat and my stomach began to do flip flops like a gymnast, leaving me lightheaded.


    "You look kind of pale," he repeated with concern as he scrutinized my face, trying to find any form of distress, which he can already see from my bruised face but he didn¡¯t say anything about it.


    I shook my head, brushing off the feeling of vulnerability that washed over me. But his hand on my shoulder seemed to burn me and a flush rise to my cheeks.


    "I¡¯-I¡¯m fine," stuttering, but still forcing a bright, cheerful smile onto my face in an attempt to calm myself.


    Stop being paranoid! I screamed at myself. See, he doesn¡¯t even know you, asking you if you¡¯re alright. He¡¯s just being kind.


    I cleared my throat, dislodging the lump that had formed there and I stepped back from him, wanting to create some distance between us.


    His hand came off my shoulder, and I let out a breath of fresh air, relieved but also a pang of disappointment, which I quickly suppressed. What was wrong with me? I didn¡¯t even know this guy!


    "I¡¯m sorry, what would you like to order?" I asked, sounding like the professional and composed waiter I was supposed to be.


    He sat back down into his chair but his eyes never left mine as he spoke his order, "Black coffee, no sugar."


    His words were simple, but...uhhh...there was something about the way he spoke, something that made me feel like he was seeing right through me.


    Quickly, I nodded, my head bobbing up and down as I scribbled down the order with shaking hands.


    "C-coffee, black," I mumbled, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a jumbled mess.


    Scolding myself silently to not let my nerves ruin my job.


    The second man, shorter with a rugged jawline, who hadn¡¯t uttered a word until now, simply nodded. "Same," he said, tapping his hands on the table.


    I quickly retreated to the safety of the counter, my heart racing like a runaway train.


    What was wrong with me? Why was I so jumpy, so on edge? I felt like I was teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown.


    John raised an eyebrow as I handed him the order, his eyes roaming my face with worry. "You okay, Katya?" he asked, glancing back at the table where the two men sat, their eyes fixed on us, before looking back at me.


    I forced a smile onto my face to reassure him. "Y-yes, I¡¯m fine," I stammered and John¡¯s eyes lingered on mine, his expression skeptical. I knew he didn¡¯t believe me.


    "Just a little...tired," I added, my voice trailing off as I picked up the young lady¡¯s tea, trying to appear nonchalant despite my racing heart.


    John nodded sympathetically, but I could tell he didn¡¯t quite believe me and I didn¡¯t blame him.


    Because rightly so - our shift had just started, and I was already claiming fatigue. He was bound to get suspicious; I wasn¡¯t even convincing myself.


    I pasted a bright, if somewhat dimmed, smile on my face as I turned to the young lady. "Enjoy your meal," I chimed, but she just flicked her hand dismissively, not even bothering to look up at me.


    Still rude! I thought, rolling my eyes mentally. My smile faltering, and my heart pounding in my chest like a drum as I glanced around the cafe, searching for a new customer to attend to.


    But there were none - just the gentle conversation, the clinking of cups, and the soft hiss of the espresso machine.


    The atmosphere was calm and peaceful, but my nerves were still on edge, my senses heightened as I waited for...something. Anything.


    I glanced over again, my stomach twisting into knots, dreading on going back to the table to pick up the men¡¯s coffee.


    But surprisingly as I scanned the room, my eyes landed on the blue-eyed man in suit, and my heart skipped a beat.


    He was looking at me. Why? I wondered, feeling a shiver run down my spine.


    He saw me catch him staring, and his eyes darted to his friend, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he pretended he hadn¡¯t been looking.


    But I wasn¡¯t buying it. My eyes narrowed, suspicion building up in my mind.


    And despite my reservations, I forced myself to walk back to the counter, my feet heavy with reluctance, picking up the tray with the two cups of black coffee, the bitter aroma wafting up to greet me.


    Ugh, no sugar? That can never be me! My sweet tooth was already protesting the thought, and I couldn¡¯t help but think that if I had to drink this stuff, my taste buds would surely die.


    John looked up at me, his eyes filled with concern and he held my arm, his grip gentle but firm, as I was about to pick up the tray. "If you¡¯re tired, you can take the day off, I would cover for you," he offered.


    I pulled my hand from his grip, nodding at him in gratitude. "Thanks, John, but I can manage," I said, forcing a smile onto my face. I needed the pay, and taking the day off wasn¡¯t an option. It was a no-brainer.


    Picking up the tray, I spun around, my feet seeming to move of their own accord, as I walked back to the table where the two men in suits sat waiting.


    "B-black coffee, without sugar," I squeak, voice creaking slightly as I set the tray down in front of them.


    "Enjoy your meal." I added, trying to sound cheerful, but my tone fell flat....the fuck?


    The blue-eyed man smiled back at me, a genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat.


    His friend, on the other hand, merely muttered a thanks, gruffly, as he picked up his coffee and began to sip it.


    For a moment, the blue-eyed man and I just looked at each other. My eyes fixed on his, and his were fixed on mine, the connection between us was showing or was it just me.


    My stomach flipped, and my cheeks flushed, as I felt a rush of heat spread through my body.


    What the hell is going on? I tried processing the strange sensations coursing through me.


    Until the bell attached to the door of the cafe rang out, shattering the spell that had been cast between us.


    I quickly moved away from their table, my face burning with a fierce blush as I beat a hasty retreat.

 Chapter 51: ★Kitten★

    Chapter 51: ¡ïKitten¡ï


    ~Chapter 51~


    I retied my bun back into place. It was just a few minutes before my shift ended, and I couldn¡¯t wait to escape the confines of the cafe.


    My shift had been as peaceful as it usually was, with the soft conversation and the occasional sounds of cups and silverware.


    But, as always, there were the occasional rude and inconsiderate people who seemed to take pleasure in making my life more difficult. It was just part of the job, I reminded myself.


    But what wasn¡¯t part of the job was the lingering image of those piercing blue eyes that seemed to haunt me every working moment.


    The two men in suits had left the moment they finished their coffee, but the memory of their visit remained etched in my mind like a scar.


    He - the blue-eyed one - had kept giving me glances throughout their stay, and I had caught every single one of them. Which meant, I realized with a flush, that I had been giving him glances too.


    I couldn¡¯t explain why, but there was something about him that drew me in, like a moth to a flame.


    His eyes see right through me, to the very soul of me, and yet, I couldn¡¯t look away.


    The stupid flush rose again on my face, refusing to be extinguished. I hastily pressed my palms to my face, trying to physically suppress the blush.


    But it only seemed to grow more intense, signaling my embarrassment to the world.


    "Are you okay,"John¡¯s sudden appearance at my side startled me, and I jerked my hands away from my face.


    "Why do you look red."he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he eyed me with curiosity and amusement.


    "Hahaha" I forced a laugh, playing it cool. "I-im good," I patting my face in a futile attempt to urge the blush to die down.


    My skin felt like it was on fire, and I could sense John¡¯s eyes on me, scrutinizing me.


    John looked at me wryly, his expression a clear indication that he sensed something was up. But he didn¡¯t push the issue, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor.


    Instead, he just nodded, saying"Well, your shift is about to end, so you can start packing up," he patted me on the shoulder in a reassuring gesture before continuing on his way, leaving me.


    I methodically cleaned over the tables, wiping down the surfaces with a damp cloth and arranging the chairs into their neat, orderly positions.


    As I worked, I kept an eye on the clock, waiting for my shift to officially end.


    Finally, the moment arrived, and I walked to the back door, calling out a goodbye to John as I went.


    "See you tomorrow, Katya!" he replied and I smiled, waving before picking up the worn, faded bag that Aria had given me.


    Strapping the bag over my shoulder as I walked out of the cafe and into the evening air.


    The march back to Aria and Frank¡¯s place was a familiar one, the route etched into my memory.


    My feet carried me along the sidewalk, my mind turning to the tasks ahead. I still had about an hour to get ready for my second job, and I wanted to make some food for Aria and Frank, so they¡¯d have something to eat when they came home from work.


    The cafe was about fifteen minutes¡¯ walk from the apartment, so it wasn¡¯t long before I reached my destination.


    Climbing up the stairs, my legs aching slightly from the long day on my feet. I reached the door before fishing out the spare key


    I pulled out the spare key that Aria had given me and inserted it into the lock and turned it, pushing open the door, which winced in protest.


    We had managed to self-repair the door after those men had broken it down, but it still didn¡¯t open and close as smoothly as it used to.


    I stepped into the room, taking in the cozy living room with its worn furniture and the kitchenette off to one side.


    But my gaze got drawn to a small piece of paper lying just inside the door, its white surface standing out against the scuffed floorboards.


    Weird, frowning. I was the last one to leave the home, and I was damned sure that neither Aria nor Frank had gotten off work yet.


    Slowly, I bent to pick up the paper, my heart beating just a little bit faster and as I turned it over, I saw that it had a neat handwriting scrawled across its surface.


    My gut tightened.The moment I read what was written on the paper, my head spun, and my vision blurred. "You can run but you can¡¯t hide, kitten," the note read.


    Quickly, I looked around the room again, this time searching for any signs of disturbance or intrusion.


    But everything seemed perfectly normal. It was as if the note had just... appeared.


    Feeling like I¡¯d been punched in the gut, my breath knocked out of me as I stared at the paper in my hand.


    The words taunting me with their menacing tone. I tried to process what I was reading, when I finally thought life was going good....no..no


    A cold sweat broke out on my forehead the more I thought about the implications.Was it Mr. Salvatore? But that didn¡¯t seem right.


    He didn¡¯t call me "kitten." Or did he? I racked my brain, trying to remember if he¡¯d ever used that term before. But I was sure he hadn¡¯t.


    My breathing picked up, panic setting in, realizing that someone had been in our apartment.


    Someone who knew me, who knew where I escaped too and lives


    I fell to the floor, the paper still clutched in my hand, as I read the words again and again. What was I going to do? Should I run? But where would I go? And who would I turn to for help?

 Chapter 52: ★Stupid face★

    Chapter 52: ¡ïStupid face¡ï


    ~Chapter 52~


    Sitting quietly on the floor, my eyes fixed on the piece of paper in my hand, the words "You can run but you can¡¯t hide, kitten" rang into my brain.


    Time seemed to warp and distort, losing all meaning as I stared blankly at the note.


    When I finally tore my gaze away from the note, I was shocked to see that thirty minutes had slipped by, the wall clock ticking away.


    Panicked, I scrambled to my feet, my mind going over to all the things I needed to do. The food I¡¯d planned to make for Aria and Frank still hadn¡¯t been started, and I was running perilously close to being late for my night job.


    A dull headache throbbed in my temples as the aftermath of my over thinking from the note.


    The fear and anxiety that had been simmering just below the surface for so long were now boiling over, threatening to overwhelm me again.


    Should I tell Aria and Frank about this? But how could I? How could I tell them that the people I¡¯d escaped from had found me? That I was in danger all over again?


    I felt like I¡¯d been punched in the gut, all the air knocked out of me as I realized I had nowhere to go, no safe haven to run to. I was still trapped in this cycle of debt, with no way to escape.


    And the thought of running and hiding all over again was exhausting.


    Slowly I picked myself up from the floor, struggling to shake off the lingering fear. I dusted off my trousers, before carefully pocketing the crumpled note.


    I trudged into the kitchen, my eyes taking in the view of the nearly bare shelves.


    We were struggling to make ends meet, and it showed in the limited food we had. I opened the refrigerator and peered inside.


    The shelves were almost empty, with only a few scattered items remaining.


    Spotting a small bag of pasta, a few wilted vegetables, and a can of diced tomatoes. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would have to do.


    I settled on making a simple pasta dish, more like I settled for it because it was the only food i can make with this small amount of ingredients.


    Before long, the meal was finally ready, the aroma of cooked pasta and tomatoes filling the small kitchen. I scooped out a portion for myself and left the rest of the meal on the stove, covering it with a lid to keep it warm for Aria and Frank when they returned home.


    Walking over to the couch, I dropped down onto the worn cushions with my meal clutched in my hand.


    Hastily eating like a mad man, the pasta and tomatoes tasteless as I shoveled them into my mouth. My mind was filled with the thoughts ahead, focused on the impending shift at the bar.


    Time was ticking away, and I still had a thirty-minute walk ahead of me. I couldn¡¯t afford to be late, not tonight.


    The club¡¯s manager, Marcus, was notorious for being unforgiving when it came to punctuality.


    One tardy arrival, and he¡¯d be breathing down my neck for the rest of the nigh and I couldn¡¯t afford that.


    I finished my meal in record time, the plate empty in less than five minutes, pushing it aside on the coffee table as I leapt to my feet and sprinted into Aria¡¯s room.


    I literally tore off the white shirt I¡¯d worn to the cafe, the fabric discarded on the floor as I reached for the loose-fitting workout shirt hanging in the closet, pulling it over my head.


    Since the bar provided uniforms for its staff, I didn¡¯t need to worry about what to wear. I¡¯d change into the required attire once I arrived at the club.


    With a final glance around the room, I turned and headed out the door, closing it firmly behind me.


    The stairs creaked beneath my feet as I descended into the bustling streets. The sounds of the busy city enveloped me ¨C car horns, chatter, and the wail of sirens in the distance.


    I blended into the crowd, just another face among the throngs of people rushing to their destinations.


    The walk there was faster as I practically ran to reach on time before I get fired. I reached the back door as it has been instructed to staff that that was the door we should be following.


    My feet pounded the pavement in haste as I practically ran, my breath coming in short gasps, struggling to reach the club on time.


    The fear of being late, of facing Marcus¡¯s wrath, drove me forward. I couldn¡¯t afford to lose this job, not now. The debt collectors were circling, their patience wearing thin and so was the time they gave us.


    Finally, I arrived at the club, my eyes roaming over the nondescript building for the designated entrance.


    I spotted the back door, the one marked "Staff Only," and made a beeline for it, pushing open the door.


    As I stepped inside, I found myself in a narrow corridor lined with rows of uniforms, neatly arranged on hooks and shelves.


    The club¡¯s logo, a stylized letter "E," emblazoned the tops and shorts. I reluctantly made my way to the uniform section, heart sinking as I gazed at the outfit I was required to wear.


    The trousers were short, ridiculously so, and clung to my legs like a second skin. The black denim was stretchy, but it offered little modesty.


    I remember when Adelasia forced that short gown on me and I felt exposed, vulnerable well this time this clothes made me completely naked.


    And as I slid into the tight-fitting garment, the top was equally revealing, a sleeveless black crop top that barely covered my bra.It was more like a swimsuit top than a shirt, and I felt embarrassed, tying the strings behind my neck.


    "Who made this kind of clothes." I muttered to myself looking over to the small mirror, stupid face.

 Chapter 53: ★JA★

    Chapter 53: ¡ïJA¡ï


    ~Chapter 53~


    Adjusting the uniform, trying to tug the trousers down to a more decent length, but it was no use.The outfit was designed to be revealing, to showcase the staff¡¯s bodies.


    Making me feel more like a commodity, than a staff, a product to be exploited for the club¡¯s gain.


    But I had no choice. I needed the pay, and I was willing to endure this humiliation to get it.


    I stepped out of the cramped uniform room, the bright lights and pulsating music of the club enveloping me.


    But it was still early, the main event yet to begin, and the music played softly in the background.


    I made my way through the little crowded floor, weaving past the scattered tables and chairs. I spotted Jameson, the bartender, already stationed behind the counter, his eyes observed me as I approached.


    "Good evening, Ja," I said, reaching out to grasp the counter as I slid onto a stool.


    Jameson but I call him ja flashed me a warm smile as he expertly mixed a drink with one hand.


    I reached over to the counter, snatching a glass of drink. It was my usual drink, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, expertly mixed by Ja¡¯s skilled hands.


    He¡¯d been making it for me since my first day on the job, and it had become a comforting ritual, a small but significant perk in an otherwise demanding job.


    The juice was tart and sweet, as I raised the glass to my lips, taking a sip. The flavors exploding on my tongue and I swallowed, closing my eyes, savoring the taste.


    I still vividly remember our first encounter, because it was an awkward one and it was now printed into my memory.


    Ja had walked into the back door, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. I was struggling to get into the uniform, fumbling with the complicated fastenings of the shirt and bra.


    It was all so unfamiliar to me, and I was very clumsy trying to dress myself.


    Ja¡¯s expression was kind and understanding as he strode over and helped me. And as he stepped back to examine his handiwork, his eyes landed on the scars that crisscrossed my arms and back.


    But Ja¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change; he didn¡¯t react or comment. Instead, he pretended like he hadn¡¯t seen anything out of the ordinary.


    "So, what¡¯s your favorite drink?" he¡¯d asked, breaking the tension.


    I frowned for a moment before responding, "Orange juice." Ja smiled and nodded. "I¡¯ll make sure to have some ready for you every day," he promised and left me standing there, taken aback by his kindness.


    But I hadn¡¯t have time to process it further, finishing getting dressed and making my way back to the club. But when I arrived, Ja greeted me with a warm smile and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.


    "Welcome to your first day," he said, handing me the glass. "I promised you your favorite drink, and I always keep my promises."


    I took a sip of the juice, it was the perfect antidote to my nerves, and I smiled at Ja genuinely.


    In that moment, I knew that Ja was someone special. He was the only person outside of Aria and Frank who had shown me kindness and acceptance without judgment.


    And as I looked into his warm, brown eyes, I saw trust that I hadn¡¯t felt in a long time.


    Ja dropped the hand towel he was using to wipe down the counter, his eyes moving onto mine with a shake of his head. "Who told you to take the drink, hmm?" he asked, a sly grin spreading across his face, mirroring the one I had on mine


    I took a long sip of the orange juice, savoring the tangy flavor before responding. "Well, who else is the drink for, hmm?" I shot back with a grin.


    Ja was someone who had a way of making me feel at ease.


    He had a calming presence that seemed to wash away all my worries. I felt comfortable around him, like I could be myself without fear of judgment.


    Ja let out a loud laugh, shaking his head once more. "What if I poisoned it?" he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Don¡¯t trust too much, Katya."


    He picked up his hand towel and began cleaning the counter again. I watched him for a moment, feeling a sense of unease creep in.


    Looking back at my drink, doubts swirling around my head. Was I trusting too much? I had just met Ja two days ago, and yet I felt like I could trust him with my life. But was that just naivety?


    I shouldn¡¯t trust him so quickly. I barely knew him. But there was something about Ja that put me at ease, something that made me feel like I could trust him but don¡¯t!


    "I didn¡¯t poison it, Katya," Ja said with a chuckle, bringing me out of my head "and if I did, you would have already been dead. After all, you drank it, lol."


    He laughed out loud and I gave him a playful glare, pouting my lips in mock annoyance.


    Despite my pretend anger, I still brought the glass to my lips, savoring the last drops of sweetness.


    The orange juice was refreshing, and I needed to finish it off or I might die.


    With a satisfied sigh, I pushed myself up from the stool and joined Ja behind the counter.


    Together, we worked in hand, arranging the bar aree. Ja showed me where everything went, from the bottles of liquor to the garnishes and mixers.


    I followed his instructions, my hands moving quickly as I helped him set up.


    As we worked, the club began to come alive around us. The music grew louder, the lights flashing more rapidly as the DJ started to get into the zone.


    Not long, the bar was fully stocked and ready to go. Ja gave me a nod of approval. "Thanks for your help, Katya." I nodded back at him waving him and walking to do my job.

 Chapter 54: ★Why does he pop?★

    Chapter 54: ¡ïWhy does he pop?¡ï


    ~Chapter 54~


    I walked away from Ja, shaking off the unsettling feeling that I was being watched, but still glanced around the club, scanning the crowded room and everyone seemed to be focused on their own conversations or the music.


    Shrugged it off as mere paranoia, telling myself I was just being silly.


    After all, I was in a crowded club, surrounded by people. What was the likelihood of someone actually watching me? I pushed the thought aside and focused on my work.


    My first task of the night was to restock the shelves with bottles of liquor and mixers before serving. I worked efficiently, moving quickly as I arranged the bottles in neat rows.


    Just as I was finishing up, Marcus, the creepy club¡¯s manager, appeared at my side, his presence making my skin crawl.


    He had been totally opposed to me working at the club when the boss first hired me, and I wasn¡¯t surprised that he would try to make my life a living hell.


    His disdain for me was obvious, and I could feel his eyes still holes into me.


    "Katya," he called out my name, making me feel like I was being summoned to the principal¡¯s office.


    Seriously, can¡¯t this day get any worse. my anxiety was spiking as I wondered what I had done wrong this time.


    Forcing myself to meet his gaze and trying not to show him how intimidated I was. "Do you need anything?" I questioned, suppressing my irritation at him with so much effort.


    Marcus¡¯s hands were casually tucked into his pockets, but his eyes were far from casual as he looked me up and down.


    His gaze lingering on my exposed thighs where the ridiculously short uniform barely covered me. I tried tugging down the fabrics as his eyes striped me bare


    I¡¯m sure he had a hand in designing this damned uniform.This wasn¡¯t clothing; it was a thinly veiled excuse to objectify the staff and I felt my anger boiling, biting it back, refusing to give Marcus the satisfaction of getting under my skin but only his mere presence was enough to make me angry.


    I cleared my throat, breaking Marcus out of his trance-like state, clearing his throat, too, gravelly roughly making me wince.


    "We¡¯re short-staffed tonight, and I need you to cover more tables," he finally said, glancing around the club, before returning to me.


    His gaze was still unpleasant, but at least it was no longer lecherous. "You¡¯ll need to move quickly and keep up with the demand." He paused, narrowing his eyes into slits "Can I count on you to do that"


    I nodded my head with a small, "okay", sounding as neutral as possible. But inside, I was actually relieved.


    More work meant more pay, and I desperately needed the extra cash. The thought of the debt motivated me to take on the extra workload without complaint.


    Marcus expression was unreadable as he looked at me for a moment longer.


    He hummed to himself and turned to walk away. I watched him go to wherever he came from, relieved that the uncomfortable encounter was over.


    Spinning on my heel, I grasped the tray tightly in my hands and began walking carefully up the stairs that led to the VIP section.


    The music grew louder and the air thickened with the smell of expensive perfume and champagne as I climbed higher.


    Seeing the outlines of rich-looking men seated on plush couches, chatting and laughing with each other.


    Some of the club¡¯s strippers were already working the room, dancing and grinding to the music with ease.


    I didn¡¯t judge them or blame them for doing what they had to do to survive. This world was a cruel place, and everyone had to do what they could to make ends meet.


    If I hadn¡¯t landed this job at the club and ca?fe, who knows what I would have been doing to make a living?


    The bouncer guarding the VIP lounge nodded curtly to me and he pulled open the red velvet ropes, allowing me to pass into the exclusive section.


    I smiled politely and walked through the opening, taking in the rich decorations and the wealthy patrons who lounged on the plush couches.


    Making my way to the first lounge, my short heels clicking on the polished floor as I carefully balanced the tray of drinks.


    Setting the drinks down in front of the group of rowdy men, one of them - a portly, middle-aged guy with a lustful grin - tried to pull me into his lap.


    I yanked away sharply, trying to get myself out from his grasp without causing a scene.


    My heart was thudding as I prayed that he wouldn¡¯t be persistent or - worse still - complain to Marcus about my behavior.


    I knew that I wasn¡¯t exactly the most popular person among the club¡¯s staff, and I couldn¡¯t afford to lose my job.


    But at the same time, I refused to be treated like a piece of meat or a personal plaything. I wasn¡¯t a stripper, and I wasn¡¯t going to be forced into behaving like one.


    The man¡¯s face turned red but to my surprise he didn¡¯t utter a word, nor did he bother to look back at me as I swiftly made a zigzag line, weaving through the crowded room to escape.


    Practically running down the stairs, until I reached the bottom, tugging at the ridiculously short shorts, trying to yank them down to a more decent level.


    But, of course, they sprang right back up, clinging to my thighs.


    I let out a frustrated sigh and made my way to Ja, who was busy mixing drinks with his usual flair.


    He caught my eye and flashed me a small, encouraging smile, accompanied by a playful blow kiss.


    Rolling my eyes at his antics, feeling a tiny spark of gratitude for his attempts to lift my spirits.


    I filled my tray once more with the VIP drinks, hoping I wouldn¡¯t encounter any more creeps like the guy upstairs.


    "Katya, wait up!" I was about passing ja again when he called out to me, waving me over with a jerk of his head.


    I turned, raising an eyebrow in question, and let out a soft sigh. What did Ja want now? I walked back to him.


    "What¡¯s up, Ja?" I whispered, standing at the side of the bar where no customers were sitting.


    The bar was a flurry of activity, with Ja expertly juggling multiple orders and conversations at once.


    I watched in awe as he expertly mixed drinks, handed out change, and charmed the patrons with his bright smile.


    And yet, he had taken the time to wave me over, leaving me wondering what was so important that can¡¯t wait.


    "Katya, you remember Sandra?"Ja walked over to my side quickly, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint


    Sandra? My mind flashed back to the first day I started working at the club. Sandra had been a fellow waitress, or so I thought.


    In reality, she had turned out to be a snobbish witch who took great pleasure in making my life miserable.


    I frowned, recalling the way she had insulted me from head to toe, her voice dripping with venom as she told me to "know my lane" when she saw creepy Marcus giving me a tour of the club.


    "Yeah, I remember Sandra," I replied, thinking what Ja was getting at. What did Sandra have to do with anything?


    Ja leaned in closer to me and he whispers. "She got fired, hahaha," he boomed with laughter but his laughter was short-lived, as he quickly realized I wasn¡¯t sharing in his joke.


    Instead, I was seething with frustration, my eyes blazing with irritation.


    What was wrong with this guy? Did he really stop me from doing my job just to share some juicy gossip?


    And what¡¯s worse, did he want me to get fired too? I glared at him, my day was getting worse more and more.


    "Did you just stop me to say this, Jameson?" I asked, using his full name to convey my annoyance.


    Ja¡¯s laughter faltered, and he took a step back, his eyes darting nervously to the side. "Ah ha, Katya...I...I thought you would want to hear how it happened," he stammered, raising his arm in a mock surrender.


    I sighed, my anger dissipating slightly. "I need to get back to work," I said, moving out from his side before pausing.


    "When I¡¯m done, I need the full gist, Ja." A small grin spread across my face, reassuring him that I wasn¡¯t completely mad ¨C at least, not yet.


    Ja¡¯s face lit up with relief, and he smiled back at me. "Ohh, you¡¯re gonna love it, hahaha!" he burst out laughing, doubling over, holding his stomach.


    He was laughing so hard that tears were welling up in his eyes, and his face had turned a deep shade of red. I couldn¡¯t stop chuckle that left me, my annoyance forgotten in the face of his infectious laughter.


    Slowly composing himself but still grinning from ear to ear as he wiped away tears from his eyes. "Man, I gotta tell you the whole story later," He went back to his job, still chuckling to himself and shaking his head, which only piqued my curiosity.


    What could be so funny that it got Ja laughing this hard? I shook my head with a small laugh, moving on to the VIP section.


    Making my way to the next lounge, while keeping my head down, focusing on the drinks tray in my hands.


    I dropped off the drinks with a quick smile, but as I looked up, my eyes met those piercing blue eyes that had been on my mind all day long.


    Him~The man in the suit with blue eyes that had walked into the cafe? earlier that day.


    My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met, a shiver dripping down my spine.


    Why did he keep popping up today?

 Chapter 55: ★Everthing went dark★

    Chapter 55: ¡ïEverthing went dark¡ï


    ~Chapter 55~


    The blue eyes met mine, and a jolt of electricity coursed through my veins.


    He was sitting on a plush couch, surrounded by the muted conversation and the soft glow of cocktail glasses, but his gaze was fixed solely on me the moment our eyes locked.


    My mind went blank, and my body reacted on autopilot. I tried composing myself, reminding myself that I was at work and needed to maintain a professional demeanor.


    But my heart was flip-flopping, hands shaking as I quickly dropped the tray of drinks.


    What the hell is wrong with me? Only his presence has me shaky, like a leaf trembling. My mind is a jumbled mess of questions and doubts.


    Why is he here, in this club, out of all the places in this city? Is he stalking me? The thought made me snap a questionable gaze to him.


    Come on, Katya, stop being ridiculous. He doesn¡¯t even remember you. You¡¯re just a fleeting face in a sea of strangers.


    But the joke¡¯s on me, isn¡¯t it? Because I remember him. I remember those piercing blue eyes, that chiseled jawline, and that captivating smile, that told me ¡¯thank you¡¯


    My legs feel like jelly, and I take a step back, wanting to create some distance between us I began moving But at the same time he stands up, towering over the other people in the lounge.


    His eyes never leave mine as he moves out of the lounge, his long strides eating up the distance between us.


    He chases me down the stairs, grabbing my arm before I could hit the next step.


    "Hey" I winced, his grip wasn¡¯t hard or hurting, but it was definitely firm. Noticing my discomfort, his eyes flicked to mine, and released my hand instantly.


    "Sorry," He stepped slowly away from me, giving me a much-needed breathing space. I didn¡¯t waste any time, inhaling sharply, filling my lungs with the cool, conditioned air of the club.


    Fighting to calm my nerves, my heart still pounding from the unexpected touch. He spoke again, his voice a little stronger this time.


    "I¡¯m sorry, my name is Michael." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting downward, looking like he was shy...or maybe embarrassed


    I shouldn¡¯t care, I scold myself sternly. I shouldn¡¯t be interested in this stranger, with his piercing blue eyes and captivating smile.


    But as I looked at him, I melted. Who was this guy, really?


    He extended his hand for a handshake, my eyes darting to his hand, then down to mine. Slowly, raising my hand, my fingers brushed against his in a brief handshake.


    As soon as our hands parted, I pulled mine back to my side, feeling a tingling sensation.


    Michael¡¯s smile was discreet, as he raised his own hand to his jaw, his eyes never leaving mine. He pocketed the hand and squared his shoulder.


    "Katya, right?" he said shocking the hell out of me and I looked at him wide eyes. How the fuck did he know my name?


    My name isn¡¯t plastered in my forehead was it, my hand flys to my head tapping maybe a piece of paper with my name was there.


    I looked down at the tray in my hand. My name wasn¡¯t plastered on my forehead, was it?


    My empty hand flys to my head, tapping it gently, searching for a piece of paper with my name scribbled on it.


    Michael¡¯s eyes tracked my movements and his deep chuckle, low and husky, broke the spell, freeing me from my frantic search on my head.


    "I saw your name on your name tag," he explained over the loud song.


    I glanced down at my uniform, frowning. We didn¡¯t wear name tags here, a choice made by the club owner to protect our privacy. So, how did he...?


    My mind sprinted back to the cafe, where I¡¯d worked the morning shift. We wore name tags there, a cheerful gesture to welcome customers. The connection clicked into place.


    "At the cafe, this morning?" Michael¡¯s had a small smile his face when he said it. But his tone sounded like he is asking if I remembered him.


    A flush rise to my cheeks. Remember him? He¡¯d been on my mind all morning, lingering in the shadows of my thoughts like a ghost. Fuck yes, I remembered him.


    *******


    The tension between us slowly dissipated,


    as I had already began to deem him as a stalker.


    "Do you remember?" he asked, rising his voice above the pulsating music and I nodded, with a small "Yes, I do." The words slipping out, softly, he won¡¯t be able to hear it.


    To my surprise, a radiant smile spread across his face and my heart stutter. He was taking my breath away with this handsome face.


    "I wanted to talk to you this morning but I didn¡¯t know how to. I guess fate wanted me to talk to you." He took a step closer, and I felt the air thicken between us or just my imagination.


    My cheeks flushed, and I looked sideways, trying to break the spell. Snap out of this, Katya! You barely know him. I don¡¯t even know him... just his name, Michael.


    Michael¡¯s gaze remained fixed on me, and I remembered he¡¯d said something, but my mind went blank. How do I reply to that?


    Pretend!


    Pretend like you didn¡¯t hear him, I looked down at my tray, focusing on the tiny droplets of liquid clinging to the sides.


    "Should we go somewhere quieter?" he asked and I shook my head, I still have work to do and if Marcus finds me here. I¡¯m cooked.


    "I have work to get too." I tried to walk away, to create some distance between us, but he stopped me with a gentle touch on my arm.


    "How about after your work, I can wait?" he suggested and I almost melted away.


    Feeling a little flutter in my chest, unsure why he¡¯d want to wait for me. What could he possibly want to talk about that was so important?


    My shift ends at 1 a.m. Was he really willing to wait that long? Before I could respond, my name boomed over the music, making me flinch.


    "Katya!" The sound echoed through the club, and a shiver ran down my spine.


    Glancing toward the stairs, Marcus¡¯s furious face greeted me. Fuck!


    His eyes blazed with anger, lips curled into a snarl. My heart sank, sensing the trouble brewing.


    ****


    Marcus stormed up the stairs, his glaring eyes fixed on me, utterly disregarding Michael¡¯s presence.


    "It seems you want to lose your job and whore around," he spat, grabbing me by my arm.


    I didn¡¯t have time to even process the insult, when Michael¡¯s fist connected with Marcus¡¯s lips, delivering a swift and precise blow.


    When did he move? I didn¡¯t see him move, but suddenly Marcus was clutching his jaw, groaning in agony. The sound of the impact pierced through the music but didn¡¯t stop it.


    Damn! I don¡¯t need this right now. If Michael beats up Marcus, I¡¯m as good as dead. Marcus will fire me, or worse, and I desperately need this job.


    I quickly grabbed Michael¡¯s hand, trying to restrain him as he raised his fist for another blow.


    If I weren¡¯t the one in this precarious situation, I would¡¯ve gladly stood back and enjoyed the show. Marcus had it coming, after all. But I couldn¡¯t afford to let Michael finish what he started.


    He needs to back off and let me handle my situation myself, I was the insulted one not him but he¡¯s taking this too far, as he dragged out his arm from mine, hitting Marcus again and again.


    Quickly with all my little strength I had, I held back his hand again."Let him go!" I yelled, my voice hoarse from trying to override the thumping music.


    The club¡¯s patrons seemed oblivious to the fight unfolding on the stairs, too caught up in their own revelry to notice. But to be fair no one actually is facing the stairs.


    Where the hell are the bouncer or somebody who can help me get this fight to stop. Marcus was spitting out words that I couldn¡¯t quite hear.


    "I dare you to call her that one more time, bastard," Michael snarledwith fury. Why was he defending me so fiercely? We¡¯d just met, and Marcus¡¯s vile remark didn¡¯t even get under my skin ¨C he¡¯d always had a foul mouth, and I¡¯d learned to tune it out.


    A blow came out of nowhere, striking me square in the face. Both Michael and Marcus froze, as they stared at me.


    The music continued to pulsate around us, but it seemed to fade into the background as I struggled to regain my footing.


    A burst of pain hit me hard , and my vision blurred as I stumbled backward, hitting the wall with a thud.


    Fuck! My head spun, and for a moment, everything went dark.


    ???


    Thanks for reading

 Chapter 56: ★Someone is getting fired★

    Chapter 56: ¡ïSomeone is getting fired¡ï


    ~Chapter 56~


    I struggled to regain my vision, the world around me slowly came back into focus.


    Michael¡¯s face swam into my view, "Katya, oh my god, I¡¯m so sorry," he muttered, hands grasping mine as he gently helped me up.


    Marcus, still seething with anger, took a step forward but Michael¡¯s glare stopped him in his tracks.


    Seconds passes with the two men giving eachother glares of hate and threats.


    It seemed it was Marcus who had given me the blow, judging by the guilty look on his face. But I knew better than to expect any remorse from him. He wouldn¡¯t care that he¡¯d hurt me; all that mattered to him was showing his dominance.


    And he really doesn¡¯t have it now with Michael in the room, haha. Be serious Katya, you should be more worried about Marcus not firing my ass.


    Creepy Marcus had always been unpredictable, and I had no doubt that he¡¯d fire me on the spot if he felt like it.


    The music continued to thump around us and as I finally regained my balance, I felt Michael¡¯s hand release mine.


    I was grateful to be standing on my own two feet again, but my relief was short-lived. I watched as Michael took a step forward.


    Oh no, he¡¯s going to hit him again. I hope he didn¡¯t want to continue what he started.


    Quickly I grabbed Michael¡¯s arm, tugging on his bicep. "Michael, stop,Please stop." I didn¡¯t want things to escalate any further, didn¡¯t want to see Michael and Marcus come to blows again which might result to me getting another hit.


    That might send me to my grave.


    Michael tensed face turned to me and I really thought he was going to ignore me, thought he was going to shake off my grip and continue fighting.


    But then his face relaxed as he nodded. "Okay, okay," he said soothing


    Making all the suppressed air released with a sigh of relief, but my relief ran out as he added, "But you¡¯re coming with me." His words were firm, brooking no argument but WHAT!


    Before I could even process what the hell was happening, Michael wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close.


    I was stunned at first but nah, my shock was quickly replaced by panic. I needed my job, and I couldn¡¯t afford to leave, not even for a minute.


    Many tables needs me to attend to, customers to serve, and a paycheck to earn. And let¡¯s not forget the extra pay for covering more tables - I couldn¡¯t give that up.


    So I pushed against Michael¡¯s chest, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. "Let go of me, I have a job to get to," I protested, glancing up at Michael, my eyes pleading with him to understand.


    Marcus, meanwhile, was silently watching the exchange, a sly smile spreading across his face.


    For sure, I knew he was waiting for me to make a mistake, to leave my post and abandon my responsibilities. He¡¯d love to have an excuse to fire me, and I wasn¡¯t about to give it to him.


    Not when I was already on his blacklist.


    I glanced over at Marcus and he dropped the sly smile quickly into a scowling face. His jaw was bruised and swollen. A twinge of satisfaction rise in me at the sight.


    Damn! Micheal punch must have done a number on him.


    Michael¡¯s gaze softened as he looked down at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners like stars... Idiot, stop giving me those eyes! I felt a flutter in my chest, and I quickly looked away, trying to break the spell of this witchcraft.


    But his low and gentle voice drew me back in "Okay, how about when you¡¯re done with your job?" I turned back to him, my heart skipping a beat at the prospect of spending more time with him.


    And again, before I could respond, Marcus¡¯s voice that was shrill with malice cut in, "No need, she can go with you now because she¡¯s fucking fired!" He exclaimed, his arms flying up in the air like a child throwing a tantrum.


    My flipping heart sank, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I¡¯m fucking fired, because of this man! Michael!


    Pushing myself out of Michael¡¯s grasp, my glare hard and harsh as I tore my gaze from him


    Taking a step forward, my glaring eyes changing to a pleading one with Marcus. I needed this job, desperately. I couldn¡¯t afford to lose it, not now.


    I fell to my knees, my hands clasped together in supplication "I¡¯m sorry, please forgive me," I sobbed, my words tumbling out in a rush


    "I don¡¯t know him, I¡¯m not going anywhere with him. He...he..." My voice cracked, and I hiccuped, my body shaking with sobs.


    Pressing my face and forehead to the floor, both scraping against the cold stairs tile as I begged for mercy.


    I snuck a glimpse at his face, he was smiling, a cruel, sadistic smile that made my blood boil.


    Mother fucker, Marcus loves seeing me like this, but what can I do. I in my anger to the back of my brain, keeping it down there knowing I had to keep begging if I wanted to keep my job.


    If I got fired, it was back to job hunting, and I knew I couldn¡¯t rely on my good lying charm to get me hired again.


    I was pulled harshly from the floor. My wobbly legs, stumbling, and I looked up to see Michael¡¯s face red with anger.


    "Why are you begging this idiot?" Michael growled and I so wanted to punch him, to tell him to mind his own business


    That idiot is my fucking boss, I wanted to scream. But I bit my tongue.


    "He¡¯s my boss, for Christ¡¯s sake, let go!" I struggled to free myself out but I was just a tiny being compared to him.


    "Your boss or just a dumb manager?" Michael sneered, "Fuck him, he¡¯s the one getting fired." I stopped struggling and looked at Michael.


    What did he mean? Was he going to get Marcus fired? That would be epic but shut the fuck up, how?


    Michael grabbed my hands again and began dragging me up the stairs to the VIP area. I tried keeping up with Michael¡¯s long strides as Marcus surprised me by following us.


    We passed the bouncers and the VIP lounges and I was beginning to feel unease. Where was Michael taking me?


    We walked into a quieter area of the club, the music and laughter fading into the background. I noticed that we were heading towards the owner¡¯s office, a place that was normally off-limits to some staff.


    Michael pushed open the door without even knocking, a move that made my heart summersault.


    That was a number one rule in the club - never enter the owner¡¯s office without permission. But Michael totally disregard the rule, pushing into the office with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.


    Who the hell is he? different questions ran around my head. What kind of power did he have in the club?


    The scene that met us was exactly what the warnings had cautioned against: knock before you enter, lest you stumble upon something you¡¯d rather not see.


    And stumble we did. My boss, Diane, and a man I didn¡¯t recognize were in the midst of a passionate encounter, their bodies entwined in a way that left little to the imagination.


    Literally.


    I yelped, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I frantically tried to cover my eyes.Burying my face into Michael¡¯s chest, mortified.


    Michael, however, seemed to find the situation amusing, and he chuckled, his chest vibrating with laughter against my ear.


    "The hell Micheal" I heard my boss exclaimed, and I heard movement before Micheal moved forward into the office.


    "The hell, Michael!" I heard Diane exclaim, with a voice that was mixed with shock, embarrassment, and annoyance.


    I heard the sound of movement, followed by Michael¡¯s calm, "Sorry, Diane."


    They know eachother other? Ofcourse they would.


    Slowly I raised my head, peeking up at Michael before turning my attention to Diane. She was sitting now, dressed in a hastily thrown-on clothes, her hair still disheveled.


    She looked like she¡¯d just been caught red-handed, which, I suppose, she had.


    "What do I owe this sudden presence, Michael?" Diane asked, her voice still laced with annoyance.


    The man she¡¯d been with walked out of the office, his face scowling, no doubt upset that his romantic interlude had been so abruptly interrupted.


    Sorry...


    Michael strode confidently across the room and sat down at the couch situated at one wall.


    He patted the space beside him and I hesitated, looking over at my boss, Diane, who nodded subtly, her eyes flicking to Marcus, still standing by the door.


    I sat down beside Michael and diane leaned forward, her elbows resting on her desk, her eyes narrowing as she took in the people before her.


    "What are you doing here at my office with two of my staff," she firmly asked, to Michael, pausing.


    "And one looking like he just got his ass beaten and the other looking so scared she¡¯s about to bolt?" Diane¡¯s gaze lingered on Marcus¡¯s battered face before shifting to mine, her expression softening slightly.


    My boss, Diane, was indeed a beautiful woman, with chocolate skin. But it was her kind heart and sharp business mindset that had earned her the respect and admiration of her staff, including me.


    Michael nodded curtly at Marcus, "He needs to be sacked," he stated calmly, his voice devoid of emotion, as if he were discussing the weather rather than someone¡¯s livelihood.


    Whaa.


    ¡ï¡ï


    I¡¯m so sorry for the slow update, would try getting back to it. It¡¯s just a lot rn irl.


    Thank you all for reading

 Chapter 57: ★Heart stopping smile★

    Chapter 57: ¡ïHeart stopping smile¡ï


    ~Chapter 57~


    Wiping off the counter at the cafe, I glanced over at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time.


    Anticipation gawking at every cell in my body. Today was going to be a pivotal day, and I couldn¡¯t help but day dream about what lay ahead after my morning shift.


    Last night¡¯s events were still fresh in my mind. Marcus, the creepy club manager, had finally gotten what was coming to him - a brown slip.


    Yeah you heard it right, I couldn¡¯t believe it too. After all the times he¡¯d bullied and belittled me, after all the times he¡¯d made my life at the club a living hell in just two days of starting the word, he was now sacked.


    He lost his job as the club manager and Diana, our main boss, had given me a stern warning: shape up and stop getting distracted at work.


    I knew I¡¯d been struggling to keep up, but it was hard when you had a boss like Marcus breathing down your neck.


    And then there was Michael. Ah, Michael. He¡¯d been a surprise ally in all of this. Not only had he stood up to Marcus and defended me, but he¡¯d also somehow managed to convince Diana to give me a day off.


    I¡¯d had to decline, of course - a day off meant no pay, and I couldn¡¯t afford that. But still, it was nice to know that someone had my back.


    Michael persistence had been cute, but when he saw the serious look on my face, he knew better than to push the issue further.


    He¡¯d nodded, a hint of a smile still playing on his lips, and said, "Alright, no day off. But I¡¯ll pick you up after your shift at the cafe, before you head to the club."


    I¡¯d nodded, couldn¡¯t say no with how my heart was jumping. And the rest of my night at the club had passed relatively smoothly, with me spending most of my time attending to Michael¡¯s needs and fending off Ja¡¯s attempts to fill me in on the latest gossip about Sandra.


    But as the night wore on, I¡¯d found myself growing more and more comfortable around Michael.


    He was easy to talk to, and he seemed to take a genuine interest in getting to know me. I¡¯d caught myself laughing and smiling more than once, feeling a sense of ease that I hadn¡¯t experienced in a long, long time.


    The bell above the cafe door rang out, and my eyes moved towards the entrance. My heart skipping beats upon beats as I saw Michael walking towards me, a smile spreading across his handsome face.


    He looked even more handsome than I remembered with that smile of hia. I felt a flutter in my chest, and my face growing warm as I smiled back at him.


    Taking a glimpse over at the wall clock. My shift was officially over and Michael didn¡¯t even wait for a few minutes to pass; he showed up right on time, if not a little early.


    "Hey," he said, walking up to the counter and dropping his arm onto the surface.


    "Hi," I replied, feeling a little shy but also happy to see him. I wiped my hands on my apron, some nervous energy building in my chest.


    Snap out of it, Micheal isn¡¯t like them, he wouldn¡¯t turn on you.


    I hung the waiter apron on the hook behind the counter, marking the end of my shift. John didn¡¯t bother me that much today but I can feel his burning eyes glaring at the back of my head.


    Michael¡¯s eyes roamed over my face, and I felt like he could see right through me. But instead of making me feel uncomfortable, it made me feel like he truly saw me.


    "Ready to go?" he asked, smooth and I nodded. "Yeah, just let me go take my bag from the back." Michael nodded back to me.


    I turned and ran to the back door, grabbing my worn bag from the hook and slung it over my shoulder.


    Walking back out to the counter, where Michael was waiting for me with a smile that reached his eyes.


    "Ready?" he asked again.


    "Yeah, I¡¯m ready." I whispered softly, to which Michael¡¯s smile grew wider as he reached out and gently took the worn-out bag from my hand and I quickly drag it back to me. The bag wasn¡¯t that heavy, not much is even inside the bag, so I couldn¡¯t carry it.


    But Michael protested, "No, no, it¡¯s alright, I can carry it," he said, taking the bag from me, his fingers brushing against mine in the process. It was a fleeting touch, but it sent shivers down my spine.


    Michael slung the bag over his shoulder and walked out of the cafe with me by his side. We strolled slowly, the warm sun beating down on us, and I began to feel a little self-conscious about my worn-out clothes and messy hair.


    I quickly tried beating down some tangled strand back into my bun and as we walked, Michael glanced down at me. My face grew hot, and I looked away, dropping my hands to myself.


    We stopped in front of a sleek black car parked by the curb. The vehicle was stunning, I had no idea what make or model it was, but I could tell it was expensive - the kind of car that only the wealthy could afford.


    Michael opened the passenger door and turned to me, "Your chariot awaits," his tone was low and teasing and a giggle rise up in my throat, but I suppressed it, trying to play it cool.


    Be a cool girl.


    I walked over to the car, totally awestruck by the luxury vehicle. Michael helped me in, his hand on my elbow guiding me into the seat.


    He strapped me in with the seatbelt, his face inches from mine. He closed the door behind me, and like pampered child I leaned more into the seat.


    This feeling feels so strange and unfamiliar, but it wasn¡¯t entirely unpleasant.


    The driver¡¯s door closed with a soft thud, and Michael dropped my bag onto the back seat. He turned to face me with that heart-stopping smile again.


    My pulse quickened as he asked, "Music?" I shook my head, No, I love the peace and quiet. The soft hum of the engine and the gentle inhale and exhale from Michael, I was happy to simply sit in silence with Michael and the sound of his breathing.

 Chapter 58: ★Didn’t he notice?★

    Chapter 58: ¡ïDidn¡¯t he notice?¡ï


    ~Chapter 58~


    I looked out the window as the car pilled out the crib, watching as the streets and buildings gave way to new sights and sounds.


    The silence between us was comfortable, but as the minutes ticked by, I began to feel a twinge of curiosity.


    "Where are we going?" I asked, breaking the silence. I had said I loved the peace and quiet, but not this much - I wanted to know what Michael had planned.


    Michael¡¯s eyes flicked away from the road, meeting mine for a brief moment. He smiled turned into a sly smirk. "It¡¯s a secret," he said. "But it¡¯s not too far away."


    I clicked my tongue, shaking my head with a smile. Michael¡¯s secrecy was intriguing, and I was getting all excited about where were we going?


    A secret, just hope the secret isn¡¯t something that puts me in danger. I thought to myself, the thought weaving its way through my mind.


    I had only one hour to spare before heading to my next job. Before I could worry any further, Michael announced, "We¡¯re here."


    He killed the car engine, and I watched as he hastily exited the vehicle, his long legs eating up the way between the driver¡¯s side and my door.


    He arrived at my side before I could even finish removing my seatbelt, a charming smile spreading across his face.


    "Mi¡¯lady," he said, executing a ridiculous bow as he opened the door for me like a princess. I couldn¡¯t help this time but giggle at his silly gesture.


    "Thank you," I said, taking his outstretched hand as I swung my legs out of the car. Michael¡¯s hand intertwined with mine and he helped me out of the car, closing the door behind me.


    As I stood up straight, my eyes traveled up to the huge building in front of us. Even from the outside, the building exuded an aura of wealth and power and in seconds the building quickly intimidated me.


    I pulled on Michael¡¯s sleeve as he took a step forward. He turned to me, a questioning look on his face, as a man in a crisp black suit approached us.


    "Here, let me take that for you, sir," the man said, bringing Michael¡¯s focus out from me.


    Michael handed his car keys over, and the man hopped into the car, starting the engine and glided away, leaving us standing alone in front of this imposing building.


    Michael turned to me again, his eyes soft with concern. "Is there a problem, Katya?" I hesitated, cursing my illiterate self.


    I didn¡¯t want to embarrass him, but I needed to know where we were. I leaned in close, my voice barely above a whisper.


    "What¡¯s the name written up?" I asked, my eyes darting up to the sign above the building entrance.


    The letters danced across the sign But one letter in particular caught my eye - a bold, cursive Z that leaped off the sign.


    Michael looked taken aback by my question. I couldn¡¯t blame him - who doesn¡¯t know how to read at my age? But he was quick to compose himself, and his expression smoothed out into a polite mask.


    "Zephyr¡¯s," he paused, his small smile coming back to his full lips "It¡¯s a restaurant. One of the best in the city."


    I repeated the name, trying to commit it to memory. Zephyr¡¯s. It sounded elegant, sophisticated. And more than a little intimidating.


    A big smile spread across my lips, feeling a sense of accomplishment at having learned something new.


    From now on, whenever I saw that sign, I¡¯d know exactly how to pronounce.


    Michael¡¯s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back at me. "Do you want to go in and eat?" he asked, his confident voice now tinged with a hint of uncertainty.


    I could tell he was getting a little insecure that I wouldn¡¯t want to be here, about him bringing me to such a fancy restaurant.


    But I smiled at him, to reassure him. "Yes, I¡¯m a little bit hungry, and I¡¯ll need food before my next work shift starts."


    Michael¡¯s face relaxed, "Great. Let¡¯s go in, then." He offered me his arm, and I took it.


    We both passed through the doorway, and a woman standing at the side greeted us warmly.


    She was a vision of elegance, her crisp white suit was perfectly pressed. Her eyes, sharp and beautiful, locked onto Michael¡¯s, and I watched as she devoured him with her gaze.


    "Good day, sir...ma¡¯am," she greeting us."Do you have a reservation?" Her eyes never left Michael¡¯s face, and a flirtatious smile made its way into her face.


    Michael could see it too, and he subtly but firmly held up my arm. The gesture sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.


    Jesus Christ! what¡¯s happening to me.


    "Yes, it¡¯s under the name Michael Giovanni," he replied, with his full name that I was hearing for tye very first time.


    The woman¡¯s eyes flickered to me, and then back to Michael, a hint of surprise and curiosity in her expression.


    She looked down at her screen, tapping on it for a few seconds before smiling back up at us. "Right this way, sir," she said, pointing over to a door. "Your table will be shown to you."


    We walked further into the room ans a waiter appeared at our side in seconds, his white shirt and black trousers was clearly different than my own disheveled appearance.


    "Right this way, please," We wove through the space. The restaurant was even more elegant than I had initially thought.


    I felt out of place. My white shirt was stained and worn from countless hours of work at the cafe, my black slacks wrinkled and faded.


    And my hair - oh god, my hair was a mess, tangled and dirty from a long day of work.


    Why didn¡¯t he tell me we were not just eating food but going to a fashion show. Didn¡¯t he notice how out of place I looked?

 Chapter 59: ★Drawn to him★

    Chapter 59: ¡ïDrawn to him¡ï


    ~Chapter 59~


    "So, what do you wanna eat?" Michael¡¯s voice cut through the trance-like state I¡¯d fallen into as I stared down at the menu in my hands.


    I¡¯d been engaged in a glare contest with the confusing words on the page for more than five minutes, ever since the waiter had handed it to us.


    My eyes had scanned the menu countless times, but the words might as well have been written in a foreign language.


    Because, I couldn¡¯t read the complicated descriptions, and the restaurant...the fancy, high class restaurant was very evil, their failure to include pictures of the dishes alongside their names only added to my frustration.


    I felt a surge of embarrassment wash over me as I realized I was completely at a loss.


    I don¡¯t know what to pick because I can¡¯t read. I couldn¡¯t even begin to pretend to know what I was doing.


    This realization was humiliating, and I didn¡¯t want to wonder what Michael must think of me.


    Glanced up at him, flashing him a small, sheepishly smile. My face growing warm with embarrassment and the familiar sense of shame and uselessness.


    I was embarrassed that I couldn¡¯t read, and I was even more mortified that Michael would find out.


    Hoping to keep my secret hidden, but now I was worried that he would discover the truth, if he hadn¡¯t already when I asked his about the sign written above.


    "Can¡¯t pick, right?" Michael said, teasing and I thought he was mocking me, ridiculing my inability to read.


    I hid my face further into the menu, worthless! But then Michael continued with words that surprised me.


    "I can¡¯t either," he said, scanning his own menu. "All the foods are so good." He let out a low whistle. "I¡¯m having a hard time choosing just one thing."


    My embarrassment began to fade, Michael wasn¡¯t mocking me; he was simply sympathizing with my dilemma.


    Stop over thinking. Slowly I dropped down the man, covering my face, a small frown still on present.


    "Are all the menus here just text?" I whispered, my eyes darting around the restaurant to make sure no one was listening.


    "Do they not have pictures with the meal?" it was clearly a little silly saying these words.


    Michael heard me and he leaned into his seat, just as a waiter was passing our table.


    "Excuse me," Michael called out and the waiter, who had been hurrying by, turned on his heel, facing out table.


    "Can I get a menu with the food pictures in it?" Michael requested, politely.


    The waiter¡¯s expression changed from attentive to confused, and he glanced over at me.


    I felt my face grow even hotter at his confused gaze but Michael didn¡¯t hesitate in saying.


    "I need to see what I want to order before I do," he explained, smooth and matter-of-fact.


    The waiter nodded, his confusion dissipating. "Right away, sir," he said, turning to walk away.


    My flipping heart swelled with emotion. I turned to Michael, my eyes observing his features.


    Where did this human come from? I wondered. He had saved me from an embarrassing situation, effortlessly taking the attention off my inability to read.


    I looked down, fiddling with my fingers in my lap, my cheeks flushed red. I couldn¡¯t believe how thoughtful and considerate Michael was being. He had no idea how much his simple act had meant to me.


    "Katya," Michael voiced and I glanced up, meeting his warm gaze. "The menu," he added, holding out the new menu with pictures.


    I took the menu from him, a small smile playing on my lips as I thanked him. "Thank you," I opened the new menu.


    The pictures of the dishes were vibrant and appetizing, and I quickly scanned the pages, my eyes glazing over as I took in the options.


    I spotted one dish that caught my eye, and quickly I pointed it out to Michael.


    "I like this one," I said, with so much excitement. "Can I get it?" I looked up at Michael, expecting him to glance at the menu to see which dish I was pointing at.


    But instead, he was already looking at me...ME? His eyes were having this intensity that made my heart flutter.


    "Can I?" I whispered again, but now barely audible. Michael¡¯s gaze held mine for a beat longer, and then he blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face.


    "Yeah, yeah, whatever you need, you get... mi¡¯lady," he lowly said, chuckling as a giggle escaped my lips.


    A waiter appeared at our side again, awaiting our order. Michael glanced at me, before turning back to the waiter.


    "We¡¯ll have the grilled chicken with roasted vegetables, and a side of garlic bread,"The waiter nodded and scribbled down our order, walking out.


    Michael turned his attention back to me. "What¡¯s your full name?" he asked, wanting to bring up a conversation.


    My smile dipped, and I was not very comfortable anymore. Memories of my father and his stupid name flooded my mind.


    "Katya..."My voice trailed off as I struggled to continue. Michael¡¯s face expression turned confused, and I knew I had to clarify.


    "Just Katya," My voice cracked, his dead.... don¡¯t let him spoil your mood. "I don¡¯t have a surname." I quickly ended, looking side ways.


    Michael¡¯s eyes clouded over with two emotions; surprise and curiosity. He shook his head, drifting his gaze away from mine too.


    His fingers began to tap against the tabletop, a sign that he was deep in thought.


    My heart pounded in my chest, watching him and wondering what he was thinking. Did he pity me? Did he think I was strange or abnormal for not having a surname?


    We fell into an uncomfortable silence, the kind that feels like a heavy blanket suffocating the conversation.


    I hated it, hated the way it made me feel awkward and fidgety. The waiter arrived with our meal, the savory aromas wafting up from the plates and breaking the silence.


    Slowly I began to eat, the flavors providing a mini welcome distraction from the awkwardness.


    Michael broke the silence, his voice a little softer than before. "So, umm, where are you from?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass.


    I watched him, racking my brain about what he was drinking. It wasn¡¯t water, like I had ordered for myself. Maybe it was wine or juice?


    Where was I from? Who knows. I didn¡¯t really have an answer. I¡¯m from nowhere, and going nowhere.


    I¡¯m just a leaf blowing in the wind, turning around in circles without any real direction.


    Looking back up at Michael. "Nowhere," I answered and Michael¡¯s eyebrows raised.


    He gave me that look, the one that said "really?" without him actually saying it. His expression spoke more than words could but he shook his head again.


    *****


    "I¡¯m sorry, I should have been the one introducing myself instead of asking," Michael said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips again.


    "Just that being an ex-cop has something that doesn¡¯t leave you," he added, chuckling, clearly joking about the lasting impact of his former profession


    But I wasn¡¯t laughing. He is a what, a cop? Like, a police officer? My eyes widened in surprise, processing this new information.


    No offense to police or to Michael but Michael didn¡¯t look nor act like the type of police I envisioned them to be.


    Michael seemingly sensing my shock, he leaned in. "Ok, my name is Michael Giovanni," he began his introduction.


    " I¡¯m from Country A, I was a police officer, I¡¯m twenty-five, and I¡¯m single." He wiggled his eyebrows when he said "single," and I rolled my eyes, shaking my head with a tsk.


    See what I mean, about him not fitting like a police.


    "Why aren¡¯t you a cop anymore?" I asked, my curiosity that almost got me killed before still getting the better of me.


    I leaned in, eager to hear his story.Michael¡¯s expression turned thoughtful, and he paused for a moment before responding and his playful voice took on a more serious tone.


    "Well, I became a cop out of spite to my father," Michael lowly rumbles out a chuckle escaping his lips.


    His eyes sparkled with amusement as he recalled the past. "He wanted me to take over his company, but I wasn¡¯t ready. I was too young, too reckless, and too stubborn."


    He paused, a faraway look in his eyes, and I held my breath, quickly holding his hand, thinking he was about to reveal a deeper, more emotional story.


    But Michael¡¯s expression suddenly shifted, and he grinned mischievously. "And the old man was persistent, and he did me dirty. I was posted to be an office cop, just lazying around, doing nothing. It was a joke. I was a police officer, but I wasn¡¯t doing any real policing." He chuckled again, shaking his head.


    "Finally, I didn¡¯t want to be a cop anymore, and I just resigned." He gaze at me, and I saw a glimmer of something more serious beneath his lighthearted tone.


    "My father is now breathing down my neck to take over the company," he said and this time it was tinged with frustration.


    But his expression quickly shifted again, and he grinned. "But I¡¯m not giving in. Not yet, anyway." he finished speaking, drinking the last beat of his drink from his glass.


    "Shit," Michael muttered, glancing down at his wristwatch with surprise. "It¡¯s almost time for your work. Let me take you to your apartment."


    He pushed back his chair, moving towards mine and helping me out. My face was beat read at his character. He was always looking out for me, always trying to take care of me. And I couldn¡¯t help but feel drawn to him, to his kind and generous spirit.


    ¡ï


    Romeo is about to make an entrance lol :)

 Chapter 60: ★Romeo, my death!★

    Chapter 60: ¡ïRomeo, my death!¡ï


    ~Chapter 60~


    I was running late, and the thought of being tardy made my stomach twist into knots. Glancing over at Michael, who was too focused on the road ahead.


    "How many more minutes?" I whispered, tapping my legs impatiently, feeling the anxiousness creeping as the minutes ticked by.


    I needed to drop by the apartment to drop off the food Michael had kindly ordered for Aria and Frank.


    They would still be at work but when they come they needed food and I bet they would love to have this fancy meal.


    "About twenty minutes before you start work," Michael replied, turning a corner and I nodded, drifting my eyes back to the window.


    The buildings and streets blurred together, and I tried counting them but I couldn¡¯t focus.


    A dreadful feeling that I couldn¡¯t shake off, no matter what I did had settled in the pit of my stomach.


    I frowned, hating this strange feeling and trying to pinpoint the source of my discomfort.


    Nothing makes sense. Just a few minutes ago, I was fine ¨C relaxed, even.


    My brows furrowed, trying to make sense of the growing unease that had clouded my head.


    Michael and I had shared a pleasant meal, and our conversation was good too, so why this feeling of dread.


    Why was I feeling this way? I wondered, Was it just my imagination playing tricks on me? Or was I simply being paranoid about being late and disappointing Diane after my warning?


    Yeah, it must be that. I pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the counting of buildings in my head.


    Needing a way to calm my nerves and clear my mind. I couldn¡¯t focus on the buildings so I went for numbers.


    I counted up to the one number I still remembered, counting and counting but before I¡¯d even finish my counting.


    The car came to a halt, and Michael ran out to open my door. But I was already showing myself out.


    I didn¡¯t need a princess treatment right now, not when I was running late. Michael¡¯s gentleman gesture was appreciated, but I waved him off, taking a look at my building.


    "Thanks for the meal and car ride," I voiced sincere, I was genuinely happy and grateful, turning to face Michael. He nodded and smiled.


    I smiled back at him, feeling a warmth in my chest towards this kind and thoughtful person.


    He nodded at me, then he gestured towards the run-down apartment building entrance.


    "I¡¯m still here to take you to the club and ask you for another date," he teased "so now chop...chop...don¡¯t wanna be late." He spoke like a father scolding his child, and I let out a chuckle at his playful tone.


    Turning and running into the building, my feet bounced off the worn walls. I walked over to the elevator, with the packaged food safely tucked in my arms pressing the floor button and stepping into it.


    The doors slid shut behind me, and I leaned against the wall, exhaling deeply with a red face.


    Quickly as soon the elevator dinged, I walked down the dimly lit hallway, carrying my feets towards the apartment door.


    I fumbled through my dead bag, pulling out the keys and inserted them into the lock and turned it.


    I pushed open the door, and I saw my death. Literally!


    The air inside the apartment was so thick and heavy against my skin.


    My death..My death was him. He was standing inside the room with his back faces to me but I could clearly see who owns it.


    He turned over from the kitchen counter and his face came into view, gray eyes meeting mine with an unnerving intensity.


    His signature half-masked face mocked me and the lazy cigarette dangling from his lips accompanied by that creepy grin.


    My heart skipped beats but not the kind of ones I wanted. Sweats broke out on my forehead as I kept staring at my death, at the one person- apart from my sperm donor- who had haunted my every nightmare.


    Romeo


    "Finally," Romeo drawled, my eyes widening in horror as I took in the bloody scene before me. The apartment, was bloody and damaged.


    A twisted nightmare.


    Blood splattered the walls, the floor, and the barely hanging furnitures, a gruesome testament to the violence that must had unfolded.


    I caught a glimpse of a body, lying motionless on the ground, a knife protruding from his head.


    He was DEAD....and he was dressed in a dark suit, the same attire worn by Romeo¡¯s men. A chill ran down my spine as I realized that Romeo¡¯s own henchman had met a brutal end.


    But by who? Aria?....Frank?


    The food I was holding slipped from my arms, crashing to the floor as my fingers lost their grip.


    I gasped, my breath getting caught up in my throat as I stumbled backward. Aria and Frank, my friends, my new family, were tied and beaten to a pulp.


    They knelt on the floor, their mouths gagged, hands bound behind their backs. Their eyes, once bright now dull and....and almost lifeless.


    Romeo, my tormentor, took a step closer, "Finally, the princess had graced us with her presence, hmmm" he gave me a little sarcastic bow and I backed away.


    My feet stumbling as I desperately tried to put distance between us. My shoulders hit the wall at the end of the hallway, and I almost slid down, my legs giving out beneath me in fear.


    Romeo¡¯s eyes gleamed even more with excitement as he took another step closer. My heart pounded in my chest and my eyes rang repeatedly.


    Romeo exhaled a plume of smoke, never breaking our eyes from eachother. He looked so calm...too calm and that was a very bad sign.


    My body trembled so much body, as he gestured for me to come inside the room. His free hand beckoned me, the movement almost languid, as if he were inviting me to a dinner party rather than a torture chamber.


    ??


    Dun...dun...dun

 Chapter 61: ★FRANK!★

    Chapter 61: ¡ïFRANK!¡ï


    ~Chapter 61~


    My eyes darted down to Aria, who was staring up at me with the only good one eye that was wide with total terror.


    The other eye was swollen shut, a deep purple bruise decorated. Her fear was showing. I remembered the debt collectors who had come to the apartment, the way Aria had fought with courage.


    But now she was scared as hell and this fear was far intense than when those debt collectors came.


    And I¡¯m scared too, terrified by this creature in human form in front of me, he was very unpredictable and I bet he still is.


    Why the hell would he be calling me princess and that letter, that threatening letter he-no doubts about it anymore- sent with the words ¡¯Kitten.¡¯ gives me the creeps.


    "Please.." A whisper left my lips as my heavy legs began carrying me back into the room, I couldn¡¯t just bolt out the apartment leaving Aria and frank into their death.


    "Please.." A whisper lefty quivering lips, my jelly legs now felt heavy, but I had to move.


    I could run out the apartment and meet up with Michael....shit Michael. He¡¯s still waiting for me down at the lobby and I¡¯m damned sure he would soon march into this building to find me...no..no


    But I couldn¡¯t just bolt out of the apartment now. I couldn¡¯t just run, leaving Aria and Frank to their fate.


    So I took a deep inhale, taking a step forward, legs trembling beneath me as I moved closer.


    Romeo cigarette dangled from his lips, he kept smoking. Romeo came for me and I won¡¯t leave my friends to die. I chanted the words, giving me a little boost about my decision.


    I should have shown them that letter.


    "So... surprisingly, you escaped... si?" His deep accent grated against my ears, sending a shiver down my spine.


    One of his men walked into the room, passing me at the entrance before he reached over to Romeo and dropped a chair behind his boss, who sat down, like a king.


    Romeo sat and not before he pulled out his gun from the holster, resting the gun on his thigh, his finger caressing the trigger like it was a pet.


    "Well, you wouldn¡¯t have escaped if not for my dumb cousin," he said and his tone held so much distain to this so called cousin. "But don¡¯t worry, princess. She has already learned her lesson."


    His words repeated on my mind and I processed his words. Recalling when Adelasia took me to that club...Adelasia... she¡¯s his cousin?


    What did he mean by "lesson"? Oh God, did he kill her? A cold dread crept up my spine as I wondered if he had harmed his own family.


    Only the thought sent nausea crashing over me. I tried to speak, but my voice cracked, unable to form the words that were screaming in my mind.


    "I¡¯m sorry," I managed to stammer out. I didn¡¯t know what to say to get me out of this situation, to undo the damage that had been done.


    My eyes going over to the twins, their bruised and battered bodies calling out to me, telling me I was the cause.


    The problem. Aria¡¯s face a mess of purple and blue bruises. Frank¡¯s lip was split, his nose broken and bleeding. They were barely recognizable.


    The room was in shambles. It was as if a war had indeed happened, the twins caught in the crossfire.


    But amidst all this chaos, the door remained perfectly intact, confusing the hell out of me that why was the door still hanging on its hinges, perfectly intact.


    "I know, I know you are sorry, but I¡¯m not," Romeo¡¯s voice cut through the silence as he spits the evil words out.


    "So, princess, who should I kill?" He pointed his gun at Frank, who was staring up at me with red swollen eyes. "Biggie here?" Romeo taunted, his finger itching towards the trigger.


    My heart plummeted when Romeo moved the gun and pointed it at Aria. "Or feisty over there?" he words were drawn out like honey.


    My eyes almost pop out of their sockets as he pressed the gun nearer to the back of Aria¡¯s head.


    He meant business, and I knew that he was going to kill one of them - it was his nature. A sadistic monster.


    But I couldn¡¯t choose. I didn¡¯t want to choose. This was a nightmare. My hands flew up to my face, slapping my cheeks hard, desperate to wake myself up from this disaster.


    This wasn¡¯t really happening, is it? The sting of my palms on my skin brought pain but it didn¡¯t snap me out of the horror that was unfolding before my eyes.


    I didn¡¯t wake up...I...I¡¯m still here? Forced to confront the harsh reality. My damaging reality, where the people I had grown to care for were being brutally beaten and subjected to a twisted game of survival.


    A game where only one of them would be alive.


    "Alright, time¡¯s up, and you didn¡¯t choose, so I¡¯m going to." He sang, raising his voice like a lullaby. "Eni...mini...miani..." The rhyme was a countdown to doom, each word flowing like a melody.


    "Mo!" The sound of a gun rang out. Blasting my eardrums and making me shut my eyes as fast as I could.


    Tears streamed down my face as a muffled cry or scream filled the air. The sound was indistinct, but it was filled with pain and terror.


    My heart was racing, palm was sweating, body trembling as my mind swim with the thought of what had just happened.


    Who had Romeo shot? Aria or Frank? I couldn¡¯t breath. I was going to collapse under the weight of my fear.


    "Oopsie, biggie doesn¡¯t have a good luck. Shame," Romeo¡¯s voice dipped in sympathy but really it was a mocking one.


    The sound of the gunshot still reverberate through every cell of my body.


    Slowly, my teary eyes piled open and my gaze was met with a sight that made my heart shatter into a million pieces.


    Aria was screaming, her voice hoarse and raw but muffled by her gag as she struggled against the restraints that bound her.


    Her eyes were wild and unfocused but one thing stood out most; Grief.


    My watering eyes moved downwards and that¡¯s when I saw him. Frank. Lying motionless on the ground, a hole blasted through his head, his eyes frozen in a permanent stare.


    A cry of anguish tore through my throat as I gasped, my legs giving way beneath me. I fell to the ground, my body wracked with sobs, my eyes streaming with tears.


    "No...no...Frank...Frank¡¯s dead..ahhhhh," I wailed, succumbing to the overwhelming grief that threatened to consume me.


    He... he¡¯s not moving. A perfectly round gapping hole on his head. Blood seeping out from the bullet wound, spreading out across the floor.


    It¡¯s my fault... my fault... killer... The words.... They echoed through my mind, haunting me, my fault.


    And just as I thought things couldn¡¯t get any worse, I heard Michael¡¯s voice ringing out. "Katya!"


    No Michael, Please don¡¯t come in here. Please don¡¯t see this.


    ***


    Thanks for reading :)

 Chapter 62: ★Who knows who★

    Chapter 62: ¡ïWho knows who¡ï


    ~Chapter 62~


    MICHAEL:)


    "Father," I pinched the bridge of my nose, my eyes closing as I tried to persuade my old man to see things from my perspective.


    "What did we discuss before?" I asked, some of my frustration leaking into my voice.


    "You¡¯re throwing your life away, Michael," he boomed but with a hint of sadness in his tone.


    I heard the sound of his hand slamming onto his desk. "You should be making a name for yourself, holding up the family legacy. Instead, you¡¯re wasting your time on frivolous pursuits and gallivanting around town with who-knows-who"


    He had been lecturing me nonstop from the moment I picked up his call, his words dripping with disapproval and disappointment.


    My father had always been a hard man to please, and I knew that he would never understand my desire to be free of those responsibilities for now.


    I kicked my car tire with my left foot, the rubber absorbing the impact. The old man has started his comparison of me to my dumb cousin Samuel.


    He¡¯s not really dumb. He¡¯s just... obtuse, he doesn¡¯t know when to mind his business and stay on his own lane. He just basically doesn¡¯t know when to acknowledge his own limitations and boundaries.


    And my father, blind to his own biases, didn¡¯t want to hear that I had no interest in the family business. At least, not yet.


    All I wanted was freedom, a chance to breathe and live without the weight of my family¡¯s expectations crushing me.


    Maybe in six months, or a year, I¡¯d consider taking the reins of the company. But for now, I just wanted to be me, without the burden of my family¡¯s legacy.


    Because I knew that the moment I took over that company, I¡¯d lose myself in its demands. The long hours, the endless meetings, the constant pressure to perform. I wasn¡¯t ready for that.


    Not now, maybe in the new future. Maybe.


    My father kept on berating me for throwing my life away and some of his words cut deep, sending sharp jab to my ego.


    "Father, I¡¯m going to call you back," My patient was wearing thin but I politely said. "Have a good day at work and be quick, go home to mom, okay?" The last part came out strained.


    My father barely had time for my mom, and that was what I disliked most about his company. He was always working, always putting the business first, and it had taken a toll on our family.


    He barely had time for himself, let alone his loved ones. And I didn¡¯t want that to be me. I didn¡¯t want to be a slave to the company, sacrificing my relationships and my happiness for the sake of success.


    As my call ended, I glanced down at the time displayed on my phone¡¯s screen.


    Ten minutes had already ticked by since Katya walked out of my car, package in hand. It wasn¡¯t supposed to take her that long to drop off the food, was it?


    A faint thread of concern began to weave its way through my mind, but I pushed it aside, not wanting to jump to conclusions.


    She was a grown woman, I shouldn¡¯t just jump into a negative conclusion.


    I looked up from my screen to see a man in a suit walking towards Katya¡¯s apartment building. His face was mean, his features twisted into a scowl that made him look like a criminal.


    There was something about him that screamed off, but I just watched as he pushed open the door and disappeared into the building.


    I pocketed my phone and leaned back against my car door. Having this strong urge to go check on Katya, to make sure she was okay, but I hesitated. I didn¡¯t want her to think I was being clingy or creepy. I wanted to respect her boundaries, to give her space.


    Stop being a wimp. I¡¯m not a wimp....you are the wimp....and now I¡¯m fighting with my conscience...great.


    A small smile began to twitch at the corners of my lips. I couldn¡¯t help but think about Katya - her beautiful, scarred face, her fiery spirit, her quiet strength.


    I had no idea what these feelings were that I was having for her, but I knew I liked them. I didn¡¯t want them to fade away. I wanted to explore them, to see where they might lead.


    Few days back I wouldn¡¯t even think of a relationship, it was just focusing on myself and just having fun.


    $$$$


    The first time I laid eyes on Katya was when my over-doing cousin Samuel and I walked into the cafe she was working at.


    I remember being struck by the warm, inviting atmosphere of the place, but it was Katya herself who truly caught my attention.


    Her face was bruised, a deep fading purple mark spreading across her cheekbone. But despite the injury, her beauty was undeniable.


    Eyes, a bright, gold, that sparkled like stars in the lights of the cafe, and her lips, full and inviting, curved into a hesitant and fake smile.


    And she walked over to our table, her body trembling slightly and Her eyes were wide with fear, like she had seen a ghost.


    I genuinely thought she was about to faint with how her legs constantly shook beneath her, and I couldn¡¯t stop myself from reaching out and grasping her shoulders.


    At that time when my hands closed around her upper arms, she flinched like she had being burnt and I was hurt. Seeing how scared she was at just my proximity.


    I often found myself wondering what had triggered that look of sheer terror in Katya¡¯s eyes the moment she saw us walk into her cafe.


    It was as if she had seen the devil from her past, a ghost that haunted her every waking moment. I still always wondered about the events that had led to that bruise on her face.


    The first thing that came to mind was that people had beaten her up, because that kind of bruise wasn¡¯t from a fall; I could tell it was from someone who had aggressively, mercilessly, beaten her.


    The very thought made my blood boil and as the wimp I was, I didn¡¯t ask her about it, fearful that she might misinterpret my concern as stalking or harassment.

 Chapter 63: ★The bloodbath★

    Chapter 63: ¡ïThe bloodbath¡ï


    ~Chapter 63~


    My phone vibrated, breaking the spell of my thoughts. I pulled it out of my pocket to see a message from my mom, a warm smile spreading across my face as I read her words. "Thank you," she wrote, "Dad sent me a message."


    It was a small thing, but it meant the world to me that my parents were still communicating, still showing each other love and affection despite their differences.


    So the old man, had opted for the easy way out, huh. Sending a simple text message to my mom instead of taking the time to meet with her in person.


    It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about his priorities. Still, it had made my mom extremely happy, and for that, I was grateful.


    I texted her back, playing dumb and feigning ignorance about why she was thanking me.


    But she saw right through me, and her response was immediate. "I want you to have dinner with me," she wrote, and my smile dipped.


    Shit, I glanced over at the time again. That¡¯s in just one hour. And to make matters worse, it was almost time for Katya¡¯s shift.


    We wouldn¡¯t even make it if we left now, not with the traffic. Where the hell was she, anyway?


    The worry I was suppressing for so long began eating me up, wondering what was keeping her. Had something happened? Was she okay


    I leaned out from my car, quickly texting my mom "Ok" before scanning the entrance of Katya¡¯s apartment building.


    The structure looked ancient, like it was about to die any moment. I pushed open the creaky door, and stepped inside.


    A horrible smell of decay and neglect greeted me and I couldn¡¯t imagine how Katya must be living in a place like this, with its crumbling walls and flickering fluorescent lights.


    I looked around the place, concerned for Katya¡¯s well-being. She didn¡¯t even have a phone, I remembered, and I made a mental note to get her one, if she¡¯d accept it.


    And if she¡¯d let me, of course I¡¯d love to find a much better place for her and her friends to live in, somewhere safe and clean and warm. Somewhere they could call a safe home.


    I moved towards the small, cracking elevator amd pressed the button, and the doors slid open allowing me to step inside.


    But as I looked over to where I¡¯m about to punch in Katya floor. I realized I had no idea which floor Katya lived on.


    Fuck! I didn¡¯t even know her room number. What was I supposed to do now?


    What was I thinking, walking into this building without even knowing Katya¡¯s room number? I shook my head.


    Stepping out of the elevator and scanning the space for any sign of Katya or a directory that might list her room number. But there was nothing.


    I spotted the stairs and decided to use the them while figuring it would be better to start from the bottom and work my way up. I began clomping on the stairs, moving in what felt like the right direction, my feet was carrying me towards.


    And just as I reached the first hallway, a loud sound resonated through the air, making me flinch harshly. It was a sharp noise, like the sound of a branch snapping or a door slamming shut.


    But it was louder and more violent that those. It was a sound that shook this very old foundations of the building.


    A gun shot? It must be. I looked so confused. A gun shot in here? But..but..it really sounded like a freaking gunshot.


    I sprinted towards the sound. Senses on high alert as I tried processing what the actual fuck was happening. Who was shooting? Who was on the receiving end?


    And deep down, I had this dreadful feeling that Katya was somehow entangled in it. My mind already going and merging with worst-case scenarios, I shouted out her name, "Katya!" trying to locate her as fast as I could.


    I turned a corner, my voice almost failing me as I spotted a body kneeling on the floor, just outside a room.


    The body was shaking with raw sobs, the sound of them crying echoing through the hallway.


    Hastily, I took in the scene, nearing the trembling body slowly and as I came into a better view. I saw the white hair, the white shirt, and the black slacks. "Katya!" I shouted again as I rushed towards her.


    Dropping down to her level as she sobbed uncontrollably on the floor. I grasped her shoulders, trying to comfort her, but she shook me off, her eyes wide with so much fear.


    it was freaking me out, what the hell happened to her.


    "Please...please...don¡¯t come close, don¡¯t come here," she¡¯s trembling as she begged, chanting those words.


    Repeating it over and over again, but I¡¯m already close. I¡¯m here. My eyes roamed over her face, knots and tears mixing together.


    "What¡¯s the problem, Katya? Are you hurt?" I asked, scanning her for any signs of injury as I tried cleaning up her face but she struggles against me.


    "I heard a gunshot...Katya, why are you on the floor crying?" I held her tightly, shaking her gently, trying to get her attention, but she just wailed louder.


    I couldn¡¯t bare to look at how much pain her face etched with. I glanced over into the room and then, I saw it.


    The bloodbath. Two dead bodies. One with a bullet hole and the other with a knife plugged on his head.


    A lady, maybe older than Katya was tied up, gagged up and screaming with red eyes.


    A man in suit, a lit cigarette in his lips and a half covered face accompanied with a sadistic smile held a gun, sitting lazily on a chair.


    My grip on Katya¡¯s shoulders loosened as I took in this horrific scene.


    "What in hell happened here?" The words left my lips on their own accord. And I pulled Katya close, holding her tightly as much as I could.

 Chapter 64: ★Lord save me★

    Chapter 64: ¡ïLord save me¡ï


    ~Chapter 64~


    "Please...please...don¡¯t come close, don¡¯t come here," My voice shook with fear as I begged. I was curled up on the floor, my body wracked with sobs.


    Catching a glimpse of Michael as he ran over to me. "Katya," he whispered, dropping down to my cowering level.


    His fingers grasped my shoulder gently, "What¡¯s wrong? Are you hurt?" he asked, holding me like I was his lifeline.


    I wailed louder, my body shaking uncontrollably. Michael¡¯s eyes roamed all over my face with worry.


    "I heard a gunshot...Katya, why are you on the floor crying?" his voice was raising up in alarm.


    But I couldn¡¯t answer. I was too caught up in my own terror and michael seemed too oblivious to the danger lurking in the room, his eyes were fixed solely on me.


    He didn¡¯t seem to notice the dead body of Frank, or Aria¡¯s muffled screams, or Romeo¡¯s sadistic smile as he blew out a stream of cigarette smoke.


    Michael looked to have been teleported into a different realm, one where only me, a crying Katya existed.


    Can¡¯t he fucking see the horror surrounding us? My thoughts were all over the place, threatening me to run mad.


    Michael shakes me gently, trying to snap me out of my self destructive energy, his voice soft and urgent. "Kat..." he started saying but his words trailed off, dieing off as a whisper.


    And I knew at that moment he¡¯d seen it. The bloodbath. The carnage. The sheer terror that grips my heart.


    "What in hell happened here?" His words were barely audible. Frozen, he¡¯s afraid to disturb this eerie silence that filled the room.


    His grip on me loosens, and I had really thought he¡¯s going to let me go and run for his life.


    I would have appreciated it very much than what he did next. His arms that loosened, wrapped around me again, holding me tightly.


    This isn¡¯t what I wanted, I began struggling against him. "Katya," His hot breath warmed against my ear, as he tries to coax me back to my feet.


    But I kept my resist, my jelly legs trembling beneath me, heart thudding in my ears.


    He shouldn¡¯t be here. He shouldn¡¯t have come inside. Romeo will kill him...no...I won¡¯t let that happen. Dreadful feelings clawing at the back of my frantic mind.


    I dared dart a glance at Romeo, expecting to see his sadistic smirk, but instead, he¡¯s frowning.


    A deep frown of annoyance was present on his half face. Why isn¡¯t he gloating? Why doesn¡¯t he seem pleased with himself after killing my friend?


    What¡¯s going on?


    "Who do we have here?" Romeo sang, as he dropped his face onto his palm, his elbow resting on the armrest of his chair.


    He looked so tired of this, looking at us with a bored eyes and lazy face. His tone was mocking, as he gazed at Michael with so much disdain.


    "The man of the hour. The prince charming finally coming to save the princess, si."


    Romeo¡¯s words were laced with venom, but his tone was casual, almost bored. He stood up from his chair, eyeing Michael with a cold, calculating gaze.


    And what struck me so much as odd was that he wasn¡¯t smirking, wasn¡¯t smiling not even his trademark grin was present.


    Instead, his face was a mask of indifference, his eyes glinting with a hardness that made my blood run cold.


    This wasn¡¯t good, Michael was in deep shit and it¡¯s all because of me.


    Michael, sensing the tension, quickly stood up, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his side.


    My struggle against him lessened as my legs were still wobbly from crying and he held me tight so no way out.


    I glanced up at him to see as a flicker of fear flashed in his eyes, a fear that he was trying to hide behind a mask of bravado.


    I tried to bury my face in Michael¡¯s chest, seeking solace in his warmth as I sobbed uncontrollably.


    But before I could even process my emotions or lean anywhere near him, a loud gunshot sounded, the noise ringing painfully near my ears.


    Like it passed through them.


    My wide eyes snapped towards Romeo, and a chill run down my spine as I saw him standing there, his gun still smoking from the shot he gave.


    The bullet had passed mere inches from my head, it could have killed me?


    Wave of dizziness wash over me as I realized how close I had come to death. But it was Michael who had been grazed, his left ear oozing a trickle of blood as he winced in pain.


    My tender heart that¡¯s on the verge of an heart attack skipped a beat as I looked up at him, horror etched on my face.


    "I didn¡¯t miss," Romeo sneered, dragging out his last beat of cigarette "And I would aim again, and that might be prince charming death." His voice was dead serious, devoid of any emotion, and I felt a cold dread creeping up my spine.


    "Now get your filthy hands off her," Romeo suddenly roared. But Michael refused to back down, his blood covered hand left his wounded ears and wrapped his arm tighter around me as he pulled me closer to his chest.


    What¡¯s Michael thinking? Did he really believe he could protect me from Romeo¡¯s wrath? Who do he take Romeo as?


    Romeo would kill him without a second thought, and I could see the intent in his eyes, the way his finger tightened around the trigger. I knew for a fact that if I don¡¯t act fast, I have to do something to save Michael from his own self.


    Glancing back at the devil, my heart racing alongside my veins. He was taking aim again, his gun trained on Michael head.


    I¡¯m so sorry! I stabbed the heel of my foot hard onto Michael¡¯s, shocking him into releasing his tight grip on me.


    Michael flinched violently at my action, his eyes widening in surprise as he lost his balance.


    I took advantage of the momentary distraction to wriggle free from his grasp and I ran out of his hold, just as another gunshot rang out.


    And glory to the heavens, Michael had already bent down, clutching at his foot in pain. I had hit him harder than I intended, but it was the only way to save him.


    Romeo¡¯s bullet whizzed past, narrowly missing Michael¡¯s head. Yes!


    I ran over to Romeo, Pleading "Please!" The sound was so hoarse from crying. But I begged, I begged and begged, my words tumbling out in a jumbled mess even I didn¡¯t understand as I grasped his legs, clinging to them like a koala.


    I cried and screamed, pleading with him to spare Michael¡¯s and Aria life, to show mercy. Frank was gone and Aria would never forgive me but I didn¡¯t ask for this.


    Different kinds of pleas burst out of my mouth, each one a desperate attempt to appeal to whatever humanity might be left in Romeo¡¯s twisted mind.


    I didn¡¯t know what would work, what words or actions would stay his hand, but I was willing to try anything and everything. He¡¯s a psychopath and a monster.


    "Come on princess." Romeo whined, sighing as his eyes gazed down at me. He moved closer, and shocked the hell out of me when he dropped down to my level.


    His hands reached out, and I flinched, expecting him to strike me, but instead, he gently cleaned my tears and knots with his expensive suit sleeve.


    He looked so concerned, too concerned that I didn¡¯t feel at ease. if It was from someone else I would have been at rest but getting this expression from Romeo.


    The Romeo...its a lie, a big one. He continued to wipe the knots and tears from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle, and I let him, too exhausted and scared to resist.


    "Hey, it¡¯s alright," he whispered, soothing my nerves a little. He showed me his gun, holding it out for me to see, and then dropped it on the floor near me.


    ME!


    Eyes widened as I stared at the gun, this was what killed frank. Just by looking t this deadly weapon. Different scenes played in my head.


    My quivering lips kept chanting the words, "please, I¡¯m sorry," as I gazed up at Romeo with pleading eyes.


    But what was I sorry for? Was I sorry that I had escaped? hell no I wasn¡¯t sorry for trying to get a new life.


    I couldn¡¯t quite put my finger the thoughts that were swirling at this moment on my head but the words of plead kept tumbling out of my mouth.


    Romeo¡¯s expression transformed, and he gave me a charming smile. He tilted his head to the side, gazing at me like I was the most delicate vase. "But the fun is just starting," he purred and I almost banged my head to a wall.


    "Why waste your tears now when there¡¯s a much worse situation at home," he continued.


    Saying the word "home" like it was a place of warmth and comfort. That place was a prison, a hellhole. The only thing that I missed there was Miss Stella.


    Hope she¡¯s okay and doing fantastic than the last time I saw her before my escape.


    "A much worse situation" - the words echoed in my mind, filling me with dread and reminding me where I was.


    Lord save me!

 Chapter 65: ★Should I shot?★

    Chapter 65: ¡ïShould I shot?¡ï


    ~Chapter 65~


    "I¡¯m calling the police," Michael¡¯s voice exclaimed through the doorway.


    Was he dumb? I almost banged my head on the floor for his stupidity. Did he really think that announcing his intention to call the police would somehow intimidate Romeo?


    Even someone as desperate and uneducated as myself knew that telling a criminal you¡¯re calling the police was a recipe for disaster.


    Especially when that criminal had a loaded gun and has shown how unpredictable and crazy he was and let¡¯s not add his ruthlessness.


    Romeo¡¯s deep laughter was immediate. He laughed like he had just heard the most hilarious joke, his body shaking with laughter.


    The sound was so unexpected, so jarring, that it made my skin crawl, realizing that Michael had just made a grave mistake. Romeo was not a man to be underestimated by mere threats.


    His hand, which had been gently cleaning my face just moments before, now trembled with the force of his laughter, "Really?" Romeo chuckled, dropping his hand to his side and stood back up to his full height.


    Out of fear, Michael¡¯s eyes went wide, and his phone slipped from his fingers, falling harshly to the floor.


    Michael¡¯s gaze stared up at Romeo¡¯s face, horror and incredulity printed on his facs, as he battle to believe or not believe what he was seeing.


    Romeo towered over Michael, his height and bulk intimidating him quickly. Michael was tall, but Romeo was a giant, with at least four inches of height on him.


    Romeo¡¯s broad shoulders and chiseled physique made him look even bigger, his presence radiating an aura of power and wealth.


    And to add it up to his terrifying presence, Romeo was still laughing hard.


    "You really think I would be scared of the police?" Romeo sneered. He forgot about his gun that he had dropped on the floor near me.


    "I fucking shot my gun without a silencer," he continued, like it was the most amusing thing to say. "Of course, I want the police to come. So go ahead and invite them quickly." Romeo¡¯s words boomed sweetly, as he laughed again.


    One of his men with an emotionless face, walked over to where Michael¡¯s phone had fallen.


    He picked it up and handed it over back to Michael.


    Michael¡¯s wide eyes looked down at the phone in the man¡¯s hand, in total shock. He looked back up at Romeo¡¯s face, his eyes didn¡¯t even blink as he struggled to comprehend the sheer audacity of Romeo¡¯s words.


    I bet he¡¯s thinking what kind of crazy person Romeo was, and I knew for sure I was thinking the same.


    Romeo¡¯s behavior was unhinged, his actions unpredictable and terrifying. Michael¡¯s eyes darted back to Romeo¡¯s face, again and I¡¯m beginning to think Michael has lost his mind.


    "I¡¯m waiting," Romeo¡¯s voice dripped with impatience as he tapped his leg on the floor like a ticking time bomb.


    Michael¡¯s body shook, but he composed himself, taking deep breaths before reaching out to take the phone from the man¡¯s hand.


    I watched as Michael quickly pressed the screen and brought the phone to his ear, his voice hushed and fast as he rapidly spoke to the police.


    Assuming they were the ones he¡¯s talking to and I began to hope against hope that they would arrive soon and put an end to this nightmare.


    "Ouch", My voice was small as pain shot up my ankle. A leg has just hit me, and I snatched my gaze to the side.


    Aria¡¯s red, tear-stained eyes looked back at me, she had managed to crawl a little closer to me, her gagged and bound body was so tensed.


    Aria¡¯s eyes locked onto mine, and then they darted down to the floor, lingering on something.


    I followed her line of sight, to see Romeo¡¯s gun lying on the floor, just inches from my kneeling form. He wasn¡¯t looking at us, his attention focused on lighting up a new cigarette.


    Aria¡¯s eyes flicked back up to mine, and she hinted at me to pick up the gun. Her gaze was urgent, eyes pleading with me to take action.


    But I froze up. What would I do after I picked it up? Would I be able to use it against Romeo? The thought only, sent wave of panic through me, and I shook my head at her.


    "I¡¯m sorry." I mouthed, fresh tears gathering at the edges of my eyes, I¡¯m so sorry, Aria.


    Aria¡¯s red, crying eyes hardened as she glared at me. Gaze was like a slap in the face, a wake-up call to take action, to take revenge for Frank.


    She hinted again, Pick the fucking gun up! her gaze seemed to scream that to me.


    Should I do it?


    should I not?


    My mind was so unorganized and the fear gripping my heart didn¡¯t let me think much at all.


    All I just wanted was this to be a fucking dream but I had pinched myself and it was a reality. A damaged and traumatizing reality that I didn¡¯t want.


    Why did he come find me? I had said I didn¡¯t know who that Ivan person was and I¡¯m just an abused kid. My father never acknowledged me as he¡¯s daughter, so why should I be paying for his sins he had made.


    I¡¯m innocent, I have scars, wounds, deep mental condition. My life had never been safe and I still have to experience this? Why me.


    Can¡¯t I just be normal. The one time I finally thought I was free, thought I could finally see the world as it is. Finally had friends I could call mine.


    He had to come snatch it.


    Why...why..why.


    Slowly, I looked back up at Romeo, my heart pounding in my chest, was I really going to do it. He was still focused on his cigarette, finally lighting it up.


    And my hands inched towards the gun, fingers trembling. It was now or never.


    ???


    Happy new month.


    :)

 Chapter 66: ★went dark★

    Chapter 66: ¡ïwent dark¡ï


    ~Chapter 66~


    I¡¯m just going to grab the gun and maybe use it to threaten Romeo to back off, I thought, over my plan.


    Michael would help me get Aria out of here, and we could finally escape this nightmare. It¡¯s sounding like a good idea, a last-ditch effort to take control of the situation.


    Right?


    My hands snatched the gun, wrapping my fingers tightly around the grip. Romeo¡¯s eyes moved down to me. "Ohh," he drawled, a sly grin spreading across his face.


    His gaze lingered on the gun in my hand as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette, looking so calm.


    We¡¯ll see who¡¯s going to be calm. I picked myself up from the floor, my wobbly legs trembling beneath me, making the gun shake slightly in my hands.


    My blood was rushing towards my ears and my breathing came out in short gasps. I was going to pass out, my legs were threatening to give out on me before I could even talk.


    This is how weak you are? I screamed into my head, you can¡¯t even defend yourself.


    Shut it! Stay calm, don¡¯t let him see how scared you are. Repeated that to myself, steadying my nerves.


    I raised the gun towards Romeo, keeping my aim steady but you know what happened?


    Romeo didn¡¯t even flinch. He didn¡¯t shake in fear, didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t react in any way. It was as if he was made of stone, impervious to the threat of the gun.


    This quickly threw me back into the past, to the first time I met Romeo. I had been so naive, when I held the gun that day.


    That day he told me to prove if I didn¡¯t know Ivan by killing myself but I had stupidly tried killing him and the gun fucked me up.


    Safety, I thought, darting my eyes down to the safety on the gun. I had made that mistake before, not knowing that the safety was on when I pulled the trigger.


    But this time, I was ready. The safety was off, and I was prepared to use the gun if necessary.


    "Let them go," I demanded, struggling to keep emotions in check. "I¡¯m the one you want, please just take me and let them go. They have nothing to do with this." My strong facade fell off as I pleaded with my last sentence.


    Romeo just walked closer to me, his eyes never leaving mine, until the shaking gun was pressed against his chest.


    I could feel his heart beating beneath the barrel, mocking me that he was still alive when I should just shoot him.


    He was so close, so terrifying, that I could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath.


    "Or what, kitten?" Romeo inhaled his death sharply, the smoke moving into him as he called me a stupid pet name.


    Shuddering at the proximity between us, "I wouldn¡¯t hesitate to shoot," I warned, eyes dark and serious.


    "Let them both go." My embarrassing voice cracked again, making the gun almost fall out from my hands.


    "jus.. ki....h...al..Ry.. hjdcb ." Aria screamed something out, her voice muffled by the gag, but I couldn¡¯t make out a single word.


    But Romeo scoffed, grinning like he understood her jumbled words.


    My eyes frown alongside my face and Romeo asked "What? You want a translator." he clicked his tongue before smirking.


    "Alright, I would be your translator. Feisty said, just kill me already " He pointed his cigarette toward Aria as he translated her words.


    Aria gave him a hard glare, her eyes blazing with anger, but Romeo just chuckled. He was enjoying this, reveling in our fear and situation.


    Not to worry, he¡¯s calm, too calm for his safety. He thinks that I wouldn¡¯t shoot, that I was too weak or too scared to pull the trigger.


    But he was wrong. Last time, I had tried to shoot him, but the safety had been on, rendering the gun useless.


    This time, however, the safety was off, and I was ready to use the gun to protect my friends, scratch that, my family.


    A dark and sinister voice that echoed the abusive taunts of my abusive father, sneered. "You want to finally be the killer your abusive father always calls you?" But I didn¡¯t care.


    I DON¡¯T CARE.


    I would do whatever it took to save my friends, even if it meant becoming a killer.


    "Romeo!" A loud voice boomed, making me jump. And As stupid as I was, I snapped my head towards the sound, my eyes going wide with surprise.


    And in that moment of distraction, Romeo snatched the gun out of my hands. He spun me into his body, my back pressed against his chest and his free arm wrapped around my waist, holding me tight.


    I faced the person who had just called Romeo, and it was Mr. Antonio with his usual stern expression.


    He walked past Michael, who was now pinned against the wall by one of Romeo¡¯s men, his eyes wide with fear and his handsome face now bruised with injuries.


    When did they do that to him?


    Mr. Antonio¡¯s gaze swept the room, sighing as he took in the scene before him.


    "What is it, old man?" Romeo didn¡¯t seem happy to see Mr. Antonio, and I had a hunch that Antonio was the only one who had a hold on Romeo¡¯s craziness.


    There was something about Mr. Antonio¡¯s presence that told a story that he knows how to calm Romeo, to rein in his wild impulses.


    "There¡¯s a problem at the estate," Mr. Antonio said curtly, his eyes dark with concern, but his tone respectful.


    I struggled against Romeo¡¯s grip as he just hummed in response to Antonio¡¯s words, his chest vibrating against my back.


    "Knock him out," Romeo said and I thought he was talking about Mr Antonio getting knocked out but then he nodded towards Michael.


    "We need him as the storyteller to the police." The man who had been pinning Michael against the wall didn¡¯t hesitate, his fist flying towards Michael¡¯s face and Michael¡¯s eyes went wide, his head snapping back as he lost consciousness.


    My heart rate picked up rapidly as Romeo¡¯s next words about Aria broke me. "And take feisty to the car," That¡¯s not good, what would they do to her.


    The man who had knocked Michael out walked over to Aria. He easily picked her up and knocked her out too, her head lolling to one side as she too, lost consciousness.


    "Let her go, take me instead!" I screamed, struggling against Romeo¡¯s grip, his breath hot against my ear.


    Romeo scoffed, "Who said you wouldn¡¯t come?" he whispered and before I could respond, before I could even process what he was saying, Romeo¡¯s fist connected with my head, sending a wave of pain crashing through my head.


    My vision blurred as I felt myself being lifted off the ground. I tried to struggle, tried to fight back, but everything went dark.


    ??


    Dun dun dun


    Thanks for reading:)

 Chapter 67: ★Was I really that bad of a grandchild★

    Chapter 67: ¡ïWas I really that bad of a grandchild¡ï


    ~Chapter 67~


    ¡ãROMEO¡ã


    Slamming the car door open, the sound bits through the night air as I stepped out onto the driveway.


    The cool night breeze greeted me as I strode towards the main house door.


    At the corner of my eyes, I caught a glimpse of Katya being carried by Antonio out from the back seat and her feisty friend was being dragged along by my bodyguard, James.


    The two of them disappeared into the elevator, leaving me to face the awaiting problem within my estate.


    Mine! The soft glow of the chandelier above, dwelled on my tried face as I took a deep breath.


    My fun with Katya and her new found friends had been exhilarating. Their fear was intoxicating, and I reveled in the power I had over them.


    But, just as things were getting into the better and more fun part. A problem at the estate had interrupted the festivities, forcing me to cut our amazing game short.


    "Il mio bel nipote. My handsome grandson." I turned my attention to the warm, raspy voice, that cut through my thoughts.


    The old woman words were laced in both affection and reproach, a familiar tone that grated on my nerves.


    And as always, I forced a bright, artificial smile onto my face, one that hid the annoyance simmering beneath.


    "Nonna. Grandma." My voice was cheerful, as I strode towards the old lady sitting in her wheelchair, her frail frame a reminder of the weight of our family¡¯s legacy.


    Slowly, I approached, already seeing the hint of a scolding in her eyes, a well known glint that I¡¯d grown accustomed to over the years.


    Apparently, as we can see, my grandmother was the source of the problem at the estate, a fact that didn¡¯t surprise me in the least.


    She had always been a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind of opinions and demands that could leave even the most patient person reeling.


    Antonio¡¯s words echoed in my mind, "There¡¯s a problem at the estate," and I couldn¡¯t help but agree.


    My grandmother was a master manipulator, using her age and frailty to get what she wanted, when she wanted it.


    I bent down to her level, wrapping my arms around her in a small, perfunctory hug. It was a gesture born of habit and a desire to avoid conflict, rather than any genuine affection.


    Planting a kiss on her cheek, the scent of her old but expensive perfume wafting up to greet me.


    I knew that if I didn¡¯t show her the proper respect, she would pinch my ears, a painful reminder of my childhood.


    She could see right through my facade but she didn¡¯t say shit. I straightened up, my smile still plastered on my face, and prepared myself for the inevitable lecture that was to come.


    "My bel nipote, My handsome


    grandson" she repeated her reproach and I flashed her another fake smile.


    It was a smile that said "I¡¯m so happy to see you" while hiding the "Get the fuck out my house"


    "What are you doing here, Nonna?" I asked, backing away from our hug and looking down at her.


    She reached out with her frail hands, grasping mine and pulling me back down to her level. I slowly bent again, allowing her to draw me closer.


    "Non posso venire a visitare il mio unico nipote? Can¡¯t I just come visit my only grandson?" she asked, somehow annoyed by my question.


    She knew exactly why she was here, and it wasn¡¯t just to visit me. She had always had an agenda.


    My nonna¡¯s bony fingers stretched out to my neck and I flinched. She wiped at something on my skin, and I felt a shiver run down my spine at her cold hands.


    She showed me her hand, and I saw the faint smudge of blood on her fingers. Her eyes narrowed, a stern look quickly taking over on her face. "What¡¯s this?"


    Here we go, I gazed at her hand, realizing that she had wiped away a small droplet of blood from my neck.


    The blood had already begun to dry and I knew exactly where it came from - Biggie¡¯s lifeless body, his head shattered by my bullet.


    The memory flashed through my mind, making me almost giggle as I recalled the splatter of blood that had erupted from his wound, some of which must have landed on me.


    "Merda!" (Damn it!) I muttered under my breath, annoyed that my fun evening had been disrupted.


    My nonna¡¯s eyes bore into mine and I was getting irritated, knowing that my fun had been interrupted by her unexpected arrival.


    "Where are you coming from?" my grandmother asked, sighing, her shoulders sagging slightly as she carefully wiped the blood onto her handkerchief.


    "Work," I replied as matter-of-fact, daring her to question me further. But my grandmother¡¯s expression remained serious.


    Like seriously this old hag doesn¡¯t know when to back off. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she scrutinized me.


    Her wrinkled face getting more crease, as if the very mention of "work" had triggered a cascade of concerns and doubts.


    "What?" I asked, my tone neutral. I knew exactly what she was insinuating - that my "work" was something sinister, something that I shouldn¡¯t be proud of.


    But I wasn¡¯t about to apologize for who I was or what I did. My grandmother knew exactly what our family¡¯s business entailed, and she had never been naive about the fact that our wealth and power came with a price.


    I held her gaze. I wasn¡¯t lying when I said I was at work; it was the truth, no matter how unpalatable it might be to her.


    And I knew that she knew it, too. She had always been aware of the darker aspects of our family¡¯s business, even if she chose to pretend otherwise.


    "Piccolo," my grandmother cooed as she used the stupid nickname she had reserved especially for me.


    The nickname meant "little one". It was a nickname that had been cute when I was a child, but now it just felt condescending.


    I¡¯m a grown man. Discreetly rolled my eyes, careful not to let my grandmother see my reaction.


    Instead, I forced a bright smile onto my face and asked, "Grandma, have you eaten?" I was desperate to change the subject.


    Nonna¡¯s eyes had begun to sparkle, a sign that she was about to launch into one of her infamous lectures, about the importance of family, loyalty, and tradition.


    I had heard it all before, and I had no desire to hear it again. So, I interrupted her, cutting across her as I asked, "Grandma, have you eaten?" I infused my tone with a concern that I didn¡¯t really feel, hoping to distract her from her intended topic.


    My grandmother¡¯s eyes flickered with surprise, clearly taken aback by my question.


    Was I really that of a bad grandchild?

 Chapter 68: ★Kitten is a wild card★

    Chapter 68: ¡ïKitten is a wild card¡ï


    ~Chapter 68~


    And now was not the time for me to think if I¡¯m a good grandchild or not and definitely not the time sit through one of my grandmother¡¯s lengthy lectures, not when Katya, my feisty little princess, was safely back in her "cage".


    I had so many wonderful plans for her, and I couldn¡¯t wait to put them into action.


    "No, no? Let¡¯s go eat then, I¡¯m starving," I said, forcing a jovial tone into my voice as I turned to face my grandmother.


    I pushed her wheelchair forward, helping her glide smoothly across the floor. We made our way to the elevator, the only practical way to get her upstairs given her mobility issues.


    Can¡¯t move her up the stairs with her on a wheelchair can I?


    We stepped into the elevator, the doors slid shut behind us. My nonna opened her mouth to speak, no doubt ready to launch into another one of her speeches.


    But I was quick again to cut her off, holding up my hand, to silence her "Scusa, Nonna. Excuse me, Grandma." I said, pretending to check my phone.


    "I have an incoming call." I lied and the old hag¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, I just smiled innocently, keeping up the charade as the elevator continued its smooth ascent.


    "Si?" I said, answering my fake call as the elevator doors slid open, revealing the hallway that led to dinner hall.


    I pretended to listen intently, nodding my head and making occasional murmurs of agreement.


    My grandmother shot me sharp glances, all through the elevator ride and also now.


    But as a perfected man in acting I maintained the charade, holding my phone to my ear and continuing my fake conversation.


    My nonna silence spoke higher than her words, a clear indication that she wasn¡¯t buying my story but hey, she didn¡¯t interrupt my call.


    We reached the dinner table and I helped my nonna settle into her seat, the maids scurrying around us to arrange the fine china and crystal glasses.


    They had been alerted about me and my grandma wanting to eat. "Romeo," my grandma whispered, reaching out, her frail hand grasping for mine.


    My fake smile faltered for a moment before I regained my composure. "Si? nonna."


    She was about talking when her gaze swept over the hall and landed on Stella, who was hovering discreetly in the background.


    I watched as my nonna face lights up and a warm smile spread across her face as she beckoned Stella over with a hand.


    Ok ouch, she could give Stella a bright and cheerful smile but not me. "Stella, cara!, Stella, dear!" she exclaimed and Stella hurried over, a concern look on her face as she leaned down to hug my grandmother.


    The two of them chatted quietly, clear that they still shared a close bond, one that had been forged over years of friendship and mutual support.


    I quickly suppressed the nostalgia flickering to life within me, using the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.


    "Excuse me, nonna." I murmured, pushing myself back up, "I need to go take a bath...or maybe check on something."


    My grandmother nodded absently, too caught up in her conversation with Stella to pay me much attention.


    Making my way out of the dinner hall, I walked into my room where Katya was being held.


    The lights flickered to life as I entered. And there she was, changed into a new outfit and lying peacefully on the be...oppsie, she was actually knocked out cold.


    By who though?


    Who knows, hahaha.


    Stepped into the shower, I quickly shed my clothes, letting the dirt and blood of the day¡¯s events wash away down the drain.


    I scrubbed myself clean, feeling the tension in my muscles begin to ease as the hot water pounded against my skin.


    Fighting the thoughts of my nonna that was waiting for me, ready to pounce on me. She had a knack for making me feel like I was the one who had chosen this life, like I was the one who had willingly joined the Mafia.


    But the truth was, it was in my blood. My family had been part of this world for generations, and I was just a product of that legacy.


    She acts like she didn¡¯t marry the Mafia. Like she isn¡¯t the one who gave birth to my father.


    Anytime she came visiting, which was always without warning or invitation, she would inevitably launch into a tirade about the dangers of our organization.


    She would lament about how I was making enemies left and right, as if I was somehow responsible for the animosity that had been brewing for generations.


    Many of the enemies I had were inherited, foes that had been sworn against our family long before I was even born.


    I wiped my wet hair backwards, the droplets of water flying off my skin as I walked out of the bathroom.


    A towel hung loosely around my waist as I made my way to my closet, throwing on the first thing I found, not bothering to choose.


    Too preoccupied with thoughts of my nonna¡¯s impending lecture and the sleeping beauty waiting for me in the next room.


    Walking out of my closet, I glanced over at Katya, who was still fast asleep and I was satisfied, knowing that she was still under my control.


    Good. I stood there for a moment, savoring the thought of being the one to wake Katya up.


    It was satisfying that I held the power to rouse her from her slumber. And what a wake-up call it would be - a jolt of reality that would shatter the peaceful facade of her sleep.


    I can¡¯t wait to see her reaction to me when I finally decide to wake her.


    Turning to leave, my hand held the doorknob as I prepared to exit the room. But before I stepped out, I made sure to lock the door behind me.


    I wouldn¡¯t underestimate her again, not after the surprises I felt when she escaped the mansion.


    She was full of surprises and here I¡¯d thought to myself that I was the unpredictable one, the master of this twisted game we played.


    But Katya, Katya my kitten had proven herself to be a wild card, full of unexpected moves and hidden strengths.

 Chapter 69: ★Take a bride★

    Chapter 69: ¡ïTake a bride¡ï


    ~Chapter 69~


    "Romeo, vieni qui e mangia! Romeo, come here and eat!" nonna exclaimed as soon as she saw me walking back into the dinner hall, freshly bathed and changed.


    I flashed her a wryly smile and made my way over to her, bending down to kiss her cheek.


    "Sono qui, Nonna. Dai, devi calmarti. I¡¯m here, Grandma. Come on, you need to chill." I said, trying to calm her.


    My grandmother was a force to be reckoned with, and when she got worked up, it was best to just ride out the storm.


    I walked over to the head seat, the one reserved for the family head, and took a seat.


    The chair was ornate and heavy, carved from solid wood and adorned with intricate patterns. I settled into it, feeling the weight of my family¡¯s legacy settling onto my shoulders.


    Just like always.


    We began eating in silence but my nonna watched me with disapproval all over her face and eyes and I ignored her, focusing instead on the food in front of me.


    The tension between us was always high, but i didn¡¯t really give a fuck about her disapproval as I need the peace, at least for now.


    But as every other time it was inevitable, so I steeled myself, dreading the conversation that was about to come.


    I counted down the seconds, bracing for the impact. Three...two...one...and "Piccolo," Now!


    my grandmother said, low and even, but with a hint of steel beneath the surface.


    Damn, she was fast, I thought, as she launched straight into the heart of the matter.


    "Why did you cut off four fingers from your only cousin?" she asked, her eyes boring into mine and I raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance, but inside, I was taken aback.


    I was surprised, not just by the directness of her question, but also by the fact that this wasn¡¯t the topic I thought she was going to dive in.


    I wasn¡¯t expecting this conversation, not by a long shot. It wasn¡¯t even a significant topic, just a minor blip on the radar of our family¡¯s complex web of alliances and rivalries.


    But, apparently, my grandmother had other ideas.


    My foolish cousin, Adelasia, was a few bricks short of a load, if you know what I mean.


    She had a knack for being so stupid, and this particular incident was a prime example. I had brought someone as an enemy, someone who was here as a slave.


    And not just that this person had, in fact, smashed a vase over Alessia¡¯s head during a fight. I had watched the whole thing go down on the CCTV footage, and, I¡¯ll admit, it was pretty entertaining.


    But what really took the cake was when Alessia suddenly developed a convenient case of memory loss.


    I mean, come on, who forgets getting smashed in the head with a vase? It was almost as if she wanted to forget, wanted to erase the whole incident from her mind.


    And, honestly, I didn¡¯t care enough to address it. But, apparently, if I had, Katya wouldn¡¯t have escaped.


    $&-$-$


    "I used her fingers to count how many days someone escaped," I said nonchalantly, taking a sip from my wine glass as I side-eyed my grandmother.


    "No big deal" Her expression turned red, eyes widening in horror as she slammed her palm onto the table.


    Hard!


    "No big deal?" she questioned and I shrugged, looking at her with a "what¡¯s the fuss about?" expression, as if to say, "Come on, grandma, it¡¯s not really that big of a deal."


    And not to talk about the reason. I had my reasons, after all. And I honestly thought my grandmother should be proud of me, not angry. I mean, I had shown restraint, hadn¡¯t I?


    I had tried my best not to kill Adelasia, despite her stupidity and carelessness. I had only cut off four fingers, after all. It could have been much worse.


    She should be fucking proud I didn¡¯t kill a family member.


    Sighing again, my nonna¡¯s shoulders sagged like she was soo disappointed. She should calm the f down, I don¡¯t need her getting a heart attack about some insignificant person.


    Adelasia was just a minor player in our family¡¯s business. She wasn¡¯t worth getting worked up over.


    "Romeo, you can¡¯t continue like this," Nonna said softly and this was the real speech I had been waiting for, the one where she would try to lecture me about the error of my ways and the importance of finding a more "respectable" path in life.


    "Then how should I continue, hmm?" A wry smile spread across my face as I raised an eyebrow, asking.


    "I was born into this, grandma, and I¡¯m going to die with it." The words that flowed out of my mouth was just reminder of the truth that we both knew.


    I had been born into this life of power and violence, and I would never be able to escape it.


    My family¡¯s legacy was a double-edged sword, one that brought us wealth and influence, but also danger and bloodshed.


    And I was a part of it, whether I liked it or not. So, why did my grandmother always come at me with the same speech, the same tired warnings and lectures, when she knew that my answer would always be the same?


    My grandmother dropped her utensils on the table, barely choking out the words with so much emotions. "And if you die."


    She paused, collecting herself before continuing. "Who would take over for you, Piccolo?" Her eyes searched mine for answers.


    I stared back at her. Hoping she isn¡¯t hinting at what I think she¡¯s hinting at. But her next words confirmed my worst fears.


    "When are you going to take a bride?" she stopped, tapping her hands. "You need an heir, Romeo." She tried to reach out to me, her shaky hands extending across the table, but I quickly moved mine out of reach.


    What the actual fuck!

 Chapter 70: ★I have a bride?★

    Chapter 70: ¡ïI have a bride?¡ï


    ~Chapter 70~


    I didn¡¯t want to be touched, didn¡¯t want to be comforted. I was too busy trying to process the bombshell my grandmother had just dropped.


    An heir?


    A bride? Was she seriously suggesting that I settle down, start a family?


    The thought was absurd, laughable even. Me, Romeo, the ruthless and cunning head of the Salvatore family, tied down to a wife and kids? No, I didn¡¯t think so.


    I don¡¯t want an heir nor a bride. I didn¡¯t want the responsibility, the vulnerability, the constant worry that came with having a family in our line of work.


    We were in the Mafia, after all, where loyalty was a luxury and death lurked around every corner.


    Taking a bride would mean taking a weakness, a liability that could be exploited by our enemies.


    And I didn¡¯t need that. I didn¡¯t need the weight of someone else¡¯s safety on my shoulders. I didn¡¯t need the constant fear of losing someone I married, of leaving them behind to pick up the pieces of a shattered life..


    Even if I don¡¯t marry for love, I would need to put up a face for them whenever they would be in danger.


    And what about the children? I couldn¡¯t bear the thought of bringing innocent lives into this twisted world, of condemning them to a life of fear and uncertainty.


    Just like how I was brought in. I didn¡¯t want to be the reason why someone grew up without a father, why someone became a widow at a young age


    No, I was better off alone, free to make my own decisions, free to live my own life without the burden of responsibility.


    "I don¡¯t need an heir," I said coldly, leaving no room for further discussion. But my grandmother was not one to be deterred easily.


    She had a reputation for being stubborn and unyielding, and she lived up to it now.


    "You aren¡¯t getting any younger, Romeo," she pressed on. "What would have happened if your father, Salvatore hadn¡¯t wanted an heir too?" she asked, forgetting the implication of bringing up that man.


    Anger swelled in me at the mention of him. It was a sensitive topic, one that I didn¡¯t like to discuss


    And my grandmother knew it. She was pushing my buttons deliberately, trying to get a rise out of me.


    I banged my hands on the table, the sound echoing through the room. "Don¡¯t bring his name up!" I shouted loud and clear.


    But the old hag still ignored me. She¡¯s on a mission, and she wouldn¡¯t be silenced.


    Now is the time I so want to kill a family member, my gun could come in handy.


    "What would have become of the organization if you weren¡¯t born? What would have become of me if I didn¡¯t have you to still remember my piccolo, Salvatore?" She spoke his name with so much pain that cut deep into my soul.


    Uncontrollable rage and grief at the mention of my father¡¯s name surge through me. It was like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and reeling.


    I jumped up from my chair eyes blazing with anger as I scanned the room for something to destroy.


    I needed something, something to damage, to make that that thing feel the pain I was feeling.


    My gaze landed on a wine bottle, and I didn¡¯t hesitate, I picked it up and sent it flying across the room.


    It shattered against the wall but that didn¡¯t take my pain nor the grief.


    "I fucking said, don¡¯t call his name!" I bellowed "Last fucking time!" I slammed my fist on the table, the force of the blow making the silverware jump and fell.


    Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I refused to let them. I wouldn¡¯t give my grandmother the satisfaction of seeing me break down.


    My old man was dead, and his name should have been buried with him. I wasn¡¯t him, and he wasn¡¯t me.


    We were two different people, with different paths and different destinies. My grandmother should have shut the fuck up and gone back to the country I, where she could mourn her son¡¯s death in peace.


    But no, she had to keep pushing, had to keep trying to guilt trip me into doing what she wanted.


    "My poor child died," she wailed? She fucking wailed, her voice dripping with false sorrow.


    "He died, and now I won¡¯t be able to hold his own grandchild, because his son doesn¡¯t want an heir." She was really laying it on thick, trying to blackmail me with her crocodile tears.


    I could see the calculation in her eyes, the way she was trying to manipulate me into feeling guilty and responsible for her happiness.


    But I wasn¡¯t having it. I knew her game, and I wasn¡¯t going to play along. I was my own person, with my own desires and my own destiny.


    And I wouldn¡¯t be swayed by her emotional blackmail.


    I pushed my chair back and stood up, my intention clear: to storm out of the room and find someone to take out my frustrations on.


    But my grandmother was not about to let me go that easily. She amped up her acting skills, wailing louder and clutching at her chest like she was about having a heart attack.


    I rolled my eyes, clicking my tongue in annoyance, but I couldn¡¯t quite bring myself to leave her there, fake-dying on her wheelchair.


    I walked back over to her, looking down at her dramatic display.


    "Seriously, Grandma?" I scoffed. "You¡¯re going to pull the heart attack card? That¡¯s a new low, even for you." I shook my head, trying not to laugh at her over-the-top antics.


    But at the same time, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a little guilt. Maybe I was being too harsh on her. Maybe she really was worried about the future of the family.


    _$&:__


    "Nonna, acting like you¡¯re dying won¡¯t change the fact that I don¡¯t need an heir," I said softly, bending over to her sitting form.


    My voice now was gentle, but firm, and I made sure to maintain eye contact with her.


    Her teary eyes met my dark ones, and she gave me a pitiful face that almost looked comical. She was really milking this for all it was worth.


    "Oh, Lord," she continued her wailing, her breath becoming more ragged and strained.


    She was really selling this dramatic performance, and I had to admit, I was a little impressed. But I wasn¡¯t about to fall for it.


    My knees were starting to hurt from bending over, so I pushed a chair nearer to her and sat down, holding onto her shoulders.


    Feeling her trembling beneath my grasp, I gently patted my grandmother¡¯s shoulders, trying to soothe her and calm her down.


    "Nonna, per favore, smettila di piangere. Grandma, please, stop crying." I whispered softly. Hse was old, and I didn¡¯t want her to exert herself too much.


    This dramatic display was already taking a toll on her, and I worried that she might actually have a heart attack if she kept going.


    But she just shook her head at me, her eyes streaming with tears. This went on for a solid five to ten minutes, with me trying to calm her down and her refusing to be comforted.


    I was starting to get frustrated, and my patience was wearing thin. This shit wasn¡¯t for her old age.


    Finally, I¡¯d had enough. "Grandma, it¡¯s alright," I said firmly, puting an end to this drama.


    She just looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and shook her head again.


    "I would have a bride," I spat out, the words bitter on my lips.


    I didn¡¯t even know who I was talking about, but I knew I had to say something to shut her up.


    But now that I¡¯d said it, I realized that I had just painted myself into a corner. Who was this bride I would get, anyway?


    I had no idea.

 Chapter 71: ★How does it feel!★

    Chapter 71: ¡ïHow does it feel!¡ï


    ~Chapter 71~


    KATYA


    Am I floating? It feels like I¡¯m suspended in mid-air, weightless and helpless.


    I¡¯m enveloped in a soft, comfy cloud that cradles my weakened body. I¡¯m so drained that I couldn¡¯t even muster the energy to lift my hand to my face.


    My limbs feel like lead, heavy and unresponsive. My body is stiff, refusing to obey my brain¡¯s commands.


    I groan, trying to lift my head off the cloud, but it¡¯s like trying to move a mountain. My eyes slowly flutter open, and I¡¯m met with an inky blackness that¡¯s so profound it¡¯s almost shocking.


    There¡¯s no light, no shadows, no nothing. Just darkness that presses down on me.


    I try to move my head to the side, but my neck didn¡¯t cooperate, locked in place. I¡¯m trapped, unable to move or see.


    Panic starts to set in, the blood rushing quickly. Where am I? What¡¯s happening to me? Why can¡¯t I move or see?


    Those questions swirl in my mind, but I¡¯m unable also to find any answers.


    What the...?! I tried to lift my body again and again, but it didn¡¯t move. I couldn¡¯t budge, not even an inch.


    And to make matters worse, I still couldn¡¯t see a thing. This darkness was absolute, a heavy blanket that suffocated me.


    But as I lay there, I realized that the softness beneath me was a bed. A bed? Where was I? Whose bed was this?


    "Hi." Just as I was starting to run crazy and lose my mind, a voice cut through the silence.


    It was a little low, raspy voice, and it sent shivers down my spine. I tried to move my head towards the sound, but my neck got stuck in place.


    Who¡¯s there? Who said that? I strained my ears, to pinpoint the location of the voice, but it seemed to be coming from all around me.


    The only thing that could move was my ears, and I could feel them straining to pick up any sound.


    But my eyes... my eyes were useless. I couldn¡¯t see anything. Not a glimmer of light, not a shadow, not even the faintest outline of objects.


    Why can¡¯t I see anything?Even if the place was pitch black, I should be able to make out some faint lines or shapes.


    But this... this was different. It was as if my vision had been completely extinguished, leaving me blind and worthless.


    Literally.


    "W.ho¡¯s...th.e...re?" I I tried to speak, to ask the voice who it was, but my words came out in a barely audible whisper and it stuttered.


    I couldn¡¯t even choke out words clearly. my voice shaking with fear and weakness. My mouth felt dry and cottony, tongue thick. it was as if all my body had shut down and nothing was working right.


    Also, a pounding headache was killing me. My brain was being squeezed in a tight space, the pressure building with every passing moment.


    I couldn¡¯t stand this,I was going to vomit, the nausea rising up in my throat.


    And it was what happened next that made my blood run cold. Memories came crashing into me, hard.


    Bringing wave of pain and grief. I remembered Aria, brutally injured and broken, her body battered beyond recognition, eyes red.


    And Frank... dear God, Frank¡¯s dead body, his wide eyes frozen in a permanent stare, his life taken by a single bullet to the skull.


    Pain!


    The pain was uncontainable, raging and threatening to consume me whole. I was drowning in a sea of grief, unable to escape the crushing weight of my memories.


    My heart was shattered, broken into a million pieces by the brutality of what I had witnessed. And now, I was trapped in this dark, silent world, unable to move or see, at the mercy of the mysterious voice...


    "Katya, Katya, Katya." The male voice sang my name in a his low, raspy tone. This voice... it was a voice that was both familiar and yet, utterly foreign.


    A cold hand grazed the back of my stiff neck, making my skin crawl. If I had been able to move, I would have flinched hard, jerked away from the unexpected contact.


    Who the hell is this person? My first guess would be Romeo, but his voice sounded... off. It was deeper, more rugged, and slurred, like he was drunk or something.


    But it was the way he said my name that really sent a chill down my spine. It was like he was savoring it, enjoying the sound of it on his lips.


    Hands threaded through my hair and that¡¯s when the tears spilled from my eyes. "Why did you escape, hmm?" the voice whispered, hot breath fanning my ears.


    God, my inability to move or see was suffocating me, crushing my spirit and eroding my sanity.


    Not being able to see what was going on or where I was being kept was damaging my mental health.


    Slowly but surely.


    "Can¡¯t speak right, can¡¯t see, can¡¯t move," the voice taunted, its deep tones growling near my ears like a predator toying with its prey.


    "How do you feel being incapable of doing all those things you used to do before?" The words were like a knife twisting in my gut, rubbing salt in the wounds of my helplessness.


    "How does it feel to be trapped in the what-ifs and maybes?" the voice continued, its hot breath sending more shivers down my spine.


    "To be at the mercy of others, with no control over your own destiny?" The questions were relentless, pounding against my terrified mind.


    The only thing I could do was shiver, like the worthless and defenseless girl. More hot tears flowing down my stiff cheeks, hot and salty, as I felt my emotional defenses crumbling to dust.


    Nothing to help or save me from this. I was at the mercy of this monster, with no escape from the darkness that surrounded me.


    "Tell me, Katya. How does it feel!"


    ???


    Finally done a mass release of five Chapters.


    Thanks for reading:)

 Chapter 72: ★Stupid old man★

    Chapter 72: ¡ïStupid old man¡ï


    ~Chapter 72~


    ROMEO


    After my Nonna¡¯s display of emotionless blackmail and fake acting skills, which totally didn¡¯t work on me.


    Nah, I¡¯m lying, my Nonna¡¯s acting skills were top-notch, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.


    Not soon after I uttered the fateful words, "I¡¯ll get a bride," that freaking old hag exclaimed like a kid who had just been handed a giant lollipop.


    Her eyes sparkled with unbridled joy, and she was over the moon and sun, her enthusiasm radiating.


    Squealing like a high school girl as she dragged me into her arms for a bone-crushing hug.


    I was shocked by her strength, considering her advanced age. Her bony fingers dug deep into my skin, making me wince, and I didn¡¯t know when a small laugh escaped my lips at her joy.


    The hug was so tight I thought she might suffocate me.


    Her voice began to hurt my eardrums as she went on in planning every aspect of my impending wedding. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me.


    I hadn¡¯t even found a bride yet, and already she waxing about the venue, the time, the color scheme for the wedding theme, and even the font style for the invitations.


    The old woman was getting ahead of herself but I let her have her time.


    My time would come when I definitely break her poor lil heart, saying I didn¡¯t find the bride, because that¡¯s what I¡¯m ultimately going to say.


    But what really caught me off guard was when she started brainstorming names for our future offspring.


    "If it¡¯s a boy, we can name him Alessandro or Leonardo," she mused, "and if it¡¯s a girl, we can choose between Giulia or Sophia." I listened, as she rattled off an exhaustive list of potential names, each one more elaborate than the last.


    She had already envisioned my entire future together, down to the smallest detail when I don¡¯t even have a bride.


    Hahaha.


    I couldn¡¯t take it anymore and I politely excused myself from her clutches, my mind consumed by thoughts of a certain sleeping beauty.


    Making my way to my room, eager to escape the chaos and clear my head. But fate had other plans.


    As I turned a corner, Antonio spotted me and stopped me in my tracks. "Romeo," he called out and I sighed inwardly, wondering what the fuck he wanted now.


    Can¡¯t these people just leave me alone? My mind was consumed by thoughts of my little kitten and I wanted to see her.


    But it seemed like everyone was conspiring against me to keep me away from her.


    What a shame.


    "Si?" I asked, facing Antonio fully, my expression neutral, but my tone slightly showing my irritation.


    What did he want?


    "I would like to have a word with you," Antonio¡¯s expression was serious and what the fuck is he waiting for?


    Spit it out already, my patience wearing thin. Just say it, old man. Don¡¯t beat around the bush.


    But he didn¡¯t so I did "Ok, then talk," I voiced out a little sharper than I intended.


    I was tired, and I really needed to go to my room and clear my head. Antonio¡¯s hesitation was starting to get on my every nerves.


    "Follow me," Antonio commanded as he turned around, walking away with an expectation that I would obey.


    How dare he!, my pride bristling at being ordered around like a subordinate.


    Stupid old man, who refused to die. I muttered under my breath, my feet moving of their own accord to follow him.


    I wouldn¡¯t have followed, it¡¯s just my feet taking me with him, as if they had a mind of their own.


    We turned a corner and I rolled my eyes in both frustration and resignation while taking in the bar.


    The old man was a heavy drinker, and he only drank when he had something important to say - something that might just piss me off.


    The estate bar was his domain, a place where he held court and dispensed wisdom, often laced with a healthy dose of scotch.


    I had a feeling that this conversation was going to be an unpleasant one.


    So, the man wants me to get a little drunk and not kill him, I thought, a devilish smile spreading across my face.


    Antonio, Antonio, Antonio, what a smart old man. He knew me too well, knew that a drink or two would take the edge off, make me more receptive to whatever it was he wanted to say.


    And, of course, reduce the likelihood of me killing him on the spot.


    But what he doesn¡¯t know is that I wouldn¡¯t kill him even if I wanted to,, I respected him a lot and he doesn¡¯t need to know that.


    Antonio Leon was a man of great significance in my life, a man who had been by my father¡¯s side during his reign.


    He was my dead father¡¯s right-hand man, the one person he trusted above all others.


    Antonio was a man of unwavering loyalty and considerable power, someone my father had trusted with his life.


    And despite the fact that my father was his boss, they had been best friends, a bond that had only grown stronger over the years.


    He was cunning, clever, and always thinking several steps ahead. He knew how to play me, how to push my buttons and get what he wanted, just as my old hag.


    And right now, he wanted something from me, something that required me to be in a receptive state of mind. Hence, the drinks.


    We stepped into the bar and several of my men, lounging on the plush couches or seated at the polished wooden tables, looked up and greeted us with a bow.


    "Don, Boss Antonio," they all said in unison and I acknowledged their greetings with a slight nod of my own, my eyes scanning the room briefly before returning to Antonio walking form.


    ¡ï¡ï


    Thanks for reading and support.


    If u have any suggestions


    Say in the comments:)

 Chapter 73: ★Hate? Obsessed?★

    Chapter 73: ¡ïHate? Obsessed?¡ï


    ~Chapter 73~


    The bar was a big space, located just a short stroll from the dinner hall.


    It was a popular haunt for my men, open twenty-four hours a day, and catering to their every whim.


    The shelves behind the bar were lined with an impressive array of fine spirits, and the air was thick with the smell of cigar smoke and polished leather.


    If my men weren¡¯t here, they were usually at the club, a decadent playground that offered everything from high-stakes gambling to exotic entertainment.


    Speaking of which, my thoughts drafted to my dear cousin, Adelasia. You know why I cut off her fingers?


    A cold smile spread across my face. We had a world-class club right here on the estate, a place where she could indulge in every luxury and vice imaginable.


    But no, the stupid bitch had to go and take our enemy¡¯s daughter to some dingy, rundown club in the city.


    And then, to add insult to injury, she had the audacity to lose her. I had been furious, my anger boiling over like a pot left unattended.


    Telling me that she ran away, Adelasia had the guts to tell me that and still say, "why the fuck was are you so invested in finding that girl, anyway?"


    My simmering anger went over the top But I was a gentleman, after all. Or so I told myself.


    And a good head to the Salvatore family, had taken matters into my own hands, teaching Adelasia a lesson she would never forget.


    I took a deep, deep breath, calming down before I did something I might regret. Like putting a bullet through Adelasia¡¯s head.


    No, I needed to be more... refined in my punishment. So, I just turned to James, my ever-loyal and efficient assistant, and asked him politely - I really did try to be polite - to bring me a knife.


    Just a small one, I specified. And James, oh James, he brought it to me in a flash, his expression impassive as always.


    And I took the knife, feeling its weight and balance in my hand. And I used it to cut off Adelasia¡¯s first finger.


    The first day of her enslavement as a calendar for me had begun and I was determined to make her pay for her stupidity.


    The memory of that moment still brought a cold smile to my face...


    "Romeo!" Antonio¡¯s sharp voice cut through my reverie, snapping me back to the present as he sat down in the plush bar chair beside me.


    I took a seat next to him with a scowl. "Don," the bartender, Andrew, greeted me with a respectful nod before he turned to Antonio, "Boss Antonio."


    Andrew faced us both as he polished a glass with a white linen cloth. "Il solito?, The usual?" he asked, his Italian inflection flawless.


    We both nodded in unison and the bartender nodded too. Mixing our drinks.


    The stupid old man sat beside me, shrouded in silence, the tension weighing on his shoulder was high. What was he wanting to tell me that had him so wound up? I wondered, curiosity piqued.


    "Ecco, (Here you go." Andrew said as he handed us our drinks. I took my glass, swirling it softly and lifted it to my lips.


    The whiskey burned its way down my throat as Antonio, on the other hand, downed his drink in one swift motion, the liquor disappearing as soon as the glass touched his lips.


    He slammed the glass back onto the bar, his eyes locked onto mine, his expression unreadable.


    "Another one." He said to our attender and he was handed another, I shook my head as he drank it all at once again.


    "Un altro,(Another one." Antonio said to Andrew, requesting another drink and our attender handed him a fresh glass.


    Antonio downed it in one swift motion, just like he had the previous two. I shook my head, bit in amusement and annoyance, as I sipped my own drink slowly.


    I loved alcohol, but I preferred cigarettes better. There was something about the smooth, rich flavor of tobacco that helped calm my racing thoughts and cool my head when it felt like it was about to explode.


    But, of course, my nonna hated it when I smoked. She would lecture me for hours, her voice stern and disapproving, about the dangers of tobacco and how it would ruin my health. But I couldn¡¯t help it.


    Cigarettes were my life support.


    "Romeo," Antonio said, his voice breaking into my thoughts, and I cut him off, my patience wearing thin.


    "That¡¯s the third time you¡¯ve called me, Antonio. I hope now it¡¯s finally time you¡¯re going to tell me why the hell you wanted to talk to me in the first place." I set my glass down on the bar, snapping my eyes to the old man.


    Antonio let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly as he nodded. "I just wanted to say, are you okay?" he asked and I stared at him, taken aback by the question.


    What the hell does this man mean?


    Am I okay?


    Of course, I am! Why would he think otherwise? Can¡¯t he see how I look? I¡¯m as composed and collected as ever, my expression a mask of calm indifference.


    Is Antonio not only getting deaf day by day, but also blind? I wondered, my eyes narrowing slightly as I gazed at him.


    Doesn¡¯t he remember who I am? I¡¯m Romeo Salvatore, the don of the Salvatore family. I¡¯m a man who doesn¡¯t show weakness, who doesn¡¯t falter or fail.


    I¡¯m a man who always lands on his feet, no matter what life throws at him. So, why is Antonio asking me if I¡¯m okay?


    My face must have said it all as antonio shook his head, saying. "Really Romeo, I¡¯m worried your hate is moving into an obsession."


    My face must have said it all, as Antonio shook his head, "Really, Romeo, I¡¯m worried your hate is moving into an obsession," he said firm but measured.


    My what now? I thought, reeling in this confusion. My hate is moving into an obsession? What is he even talking about?


    I raised an eyebrow. "And what am I hating and obsessing about?" I asked, because honestly, I had no idea what Antonio was referring to.


    Was it the Russians? The Bulgarians? One of our rival families? I was at a loss.


    Antonio¡¯s eyes held mine in a stare, and he said "Katya, Boris¡¯s daughter,"


    Oh, hell nah.

 Chapter 74: ★Bait★

    Chapter 74: ¡ïBait¡ï


    ~Chapter 74~


    KATYA


    I felt so cold, a chill ran down my spine as I lay there, my body stiff with fear gripping my mind.


    The psychopath suffocating presence loomed over me as his words dripped like honey.


    "There are many things I could do with you as you lay there ~Stiff~, you know right," he whispered, his breath cold against my skin.


    A shiver ran down my spine as his finger traced my face, gliding from my cheek to my jaw, wiping away the tears that streamed down my face.


    The gesture was almost tender, but I knew it was just a ruse. I was trapped, helpless, and at his mercy.


    "Why are you crying?" His tone sounded so genuine in confusion, his words slurred slightly.


    The sound of his voice sent a fresh wave of despair over me and more tears flowed.


    A normal person in a situation like mine would be crying too, I can¡¯t move for Christ sake.


    Can¡¯t see, can¡¯t fight, can¡¯t nothing. Being powerless and incapable of doing what I could do before was all the more worse.


    I was trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape or defend myself. Can¡¯t see, can¡¯t move, can¡¯t talk properly... the list of my incapacities seemed endless, and the thought of it made me cry even more.


    Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless, as I lay there, feeling utterly vulnerable and at the mercy of this psychopath.


    His confusion at my tears only made me cry harder.


    If my body was cooperating with me, I would have been shaking with sobs.


    My entire frame wracked with uncontrollable tremors and my paralyzed body refused to respond, leaving me to suffer in silence, my tears the only visible manifestation of my anguish.


    "Stop crying," he growled and his grip on my hair tightened. The pain was small, but the sensation was unmistakable.


    My scalp prickled with fear as he tugged on my hair, the gentle pull on my head was a reminder of the power he had over me.


    I tried to speak, willing my voice to at least rise barely above a whisper, as I strained against the constraints of my paralyzed vocal cords.


    "W..ha.t do y.o.u wa.n.t?" I stuttered, each word a struggle, my throat constricting with effort.


    He paused, his response measured, as he enunciated each word with deliberate slowness.


    "What...do...I want...hmm." He seemed to be thinking aloud, as he counted out each word like a predator savoring its prey.


    The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation, as I waited, frozen in terror, for his next sound.


    Unsure if there was a light on or not. The blackness was absolute, making it impossible to see my captor¡¯s face.


    My heart crushed beneath the weight of my fear, the not knowing what he looked like, of it wasn¡¯t Romeo, what his expression was, or what he was thinking.


    The uncertainty was agonizing, my imagination running wild with worst-case scenarios.


    The silence stretched out for what felt like an eternity, the only sound my ragged breathing as I waited, body tensed, mind racing.


    Finally, after an interminable pause, he spoke, low and husky.


    "Well, I want you to be my bait, simple as that," he said, releasing his grip on my hair, the strands falling across my face like a curtain.


    Some of the hair covered my eyes, sticking to my tears, while the rest framed my face, a tangled, messy halo.


    @##


    I mentally frowned, my mind rebelling against the absurdity of the situation, even as my paralyzed face remained frozen.


    His bait for what? My brain bombarded with the questions. What could he possibly want from me? Why was I, Katya, the daughter of that dead abusive man, so important to him?


    "So, I just need you to be my bait tomorrow," he continued, "as to catch someone that didn¡¯t die when he should have." His words sent a chill down my spine even when it wasn¡¯t me that was supposed to die.


    But what the actual fuck, Who was this person he wanted to catch? And why did he need me to lure them in?


    I was nobody, I¡¯m not a bait material. Why should I be his bait to kill someone? What had I done to deserve this fate?


    The questions swirled in my head, but I knew I wouldn¡¯t get any answers. I was at his mercy, completely and utterly helpless.


    And why is he even telling me this when I wouldn¡¯t even have the option to say No?


    Does he enjoy tormenting me, watching me squirm in fear? The thought made my blood boil and it just boiled because I have nothing to do but let it boil over the top.


    "N.o," The words choked out, struggling to form the simple word. It was a futile attempt at defiance, but it was all I could manage.


    "No?" he repeated, a frown laced in his tone, a hint of surprise and amusement dancing in his voice.


    For a moment, I thought I detected a flicker of curiosity, but it was quickly replaced by a low, menacing chuckle.


    "Darling, I wasn¡¯t asking, just telling you to be prepared," he said, emphasizing the difference between a request and a command.


    The hair covering my face was lifted, and he tucked it softly behind my ears. I didn¡¯t want him touching me, didn¡¯t want his skin to come into contact with mine.


    But I had no other option but to lie there, stiff and unresponsive. My body was a prisoner, unable to move or react, but my mind was filled with revulsion and anger.


    Then, something unexpected happened. My finger twitched. Wait, my finger really moved a little.


    I tried again, concentrating all my energy on that single finger, and it did. It moved, ever so slightly, but it moved.


    Not my hand, not my arm, but my finger. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but it was progress.


    A small, fragile thread of hope that I clung to, desperate for any sign of improvement.


    Ahhh, my lips parted a little, forming a silent, breathless scream, as a sharp and tiny object, like a needle, pierced the sensitive skin of my neck.


    The pain was brief, a biting sensation that quickly subsided, but the shock and surprise of it left me reeling.


    "Renewal," his voice whispered in my ear, Renewal for what? What was he trying to renew? My captivity? My suffering? My fear?


    "I¡¯m still working on it to be for a long period, but for now, you have to bear the needles piercing your skin every three hours." His words were cold, leaving me stunned at the new information.


    The thought of being subjected to this torture every three hours was unbearable. The needles, the pain, the fear of not knowing when it would happen again ¨C it was all too much to handle.


    I tried to move my finger again. The one that had twitched earlier, giving me a glimmer of hope.


    But now, it refused to budge. I tried again and again, concentrating all my energy on that single finger, but it remained still.


    Move, move...move please, I ranted all my frustration. But nothing.


    Renewal, the word whispered in my mind, as I remembered what he had said. He meant renewing what he gave me, the substance that made me immobile.


    Every three hours, he would have to inject that syringe into me, perpetuating my paralysis, trapping me.


    Oh my goodness, what have I done to deserve this hell.


    And I¡¯m going to be his bait, too. His bait for God knows what.


    The bed, or whatever I was laying on, dipped slightly, and the horror that washed over me came full forced as I felt his presence drawing nearer.


    No, no I sensed him leaning in closer. The air thickening, heavy with tension, as his breath whispered against my skin.


    "Hahaha," a loud, mocking laugh filled the space, grating against my nerves.


    It was a laugh that was laced with salt, rubbed into my wounds and dipped into hot fire.


    The sound was so carefree, so joyful, opposite to what I¡¯m feeling at the moment.


    "Oh my God, you should see your face as I sat down, hahaha," Romeo chuckled, relishing in my distress.


    Taunting, and I felt my face burn with shame and humiliation. But then, his voice dropped, taking on a low tone, and I felt my heart skipped five beats.


    afsfdf


    "Come on, I¡¯m not that bad for you to think I might rape you," he said, the word "rape" rolling off his tongue with so much disgust and defensiveness, as if he was offended by the mere suggestion.


    But his words were a thin veil, a weak attempt to conceal the true nature of his intentions.


    "But someone said I¡¯m obsessed, so who knows," The words rang in my ears, his hot breath fanning against my skin, giving me the creeps.


    And then, the worst happened, his cold lips grazed my neck. The sensation a slap, a wake-up call that snapped me back to reality.


    My breath hitched in my throat, and I drew in a deep, galloping breath.

 Chapter 75: ★Time to shine★

    Chapter 75: ¡ïTime to shine¡ï


    ~Chapter 75~


    My eyelids, heavy as lead, slowly pilled open and the darkness remained. The paralysis still gripping my body.


    A testament of that syringe that is administered into me every three hours, making my body strong as a rock.


    Someone was near me, I could feel it as a presence loomed over me.


    Cold fingers wrapped around my wrists, and I felt myself being lifted off the bed. My head lolled backward, helpless to resist, as I was drawn into the unknown.


    The only sound was the soft movement of the bed as I was picked up.


    My stiff head fell into the person¡¯s chest and the scent of tobacco, rich and earthy, wafted up, mingling with a clean aroma of freshly shaved skin.


    A strong, manly perfume hits me hard, filling my nostrils. The combination was unmistakable, a unique signature that I knew all too well but couldn¡¯t quite place it.


    The person shifted while I felt their chest rise and fall with each breath. They footsteps were quite as they turned and began to walk.


    We walked- i mean, They walked for what felt like an eternity but it was just seconds before the sound of a door opening and closing broke the silence.


    The person walked again after the door was locked,m before stopping once more. The soft beep of the elevator button reached my ears, followed by the gentle hum of the elevator as it sprang to life.


    I concentrated all my energy on my ears, straining to pick up even the faintest sound. The silence was there, a heavy blanket that suffocated me.


    My eyes -might as well just call it a stone was useless but hey I got ears. My ears remained sharp, eager to snatch any whisper of sound.


    I listened and listened good to not miss out on anything. We began to move, the elevator gliding smoothly downward, and the gentle pressure of the person¡¯s arms around me, holding me secure was creeping me out.


    Who was it? The person hadn¡¯t spoken a word, leaving me to rely on my other senses to gather clues.


    The scent of cigarettes still lingered, an unsettling aroma that always send shivers down my spine.


    It might be Romeo, I mentally trembled with just his name but I couldn¡¯t be sure. He wasn¡¯t the only one who smoked, and I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I was being deceived


    The possibility still lingered, a nagging doubt that refused to dissipate: maybe Romeo had sent someone to collect me, a nameless, faceless minion tasked with ferrying me to my fate.


    My eyes that are dry and gritty from the prolonged lack of tears,m still stung with a dull, persistent ache.


    The tears that had once flowed so freely now refused to come. The emotional exhaustion was crushing, a weight that pressed upon my chest, making it hard to breathe.


    it hurts so much, so, so much that I just wanted peace.


    Aria¡¯s face swam before my eyes, her bright smirk and sparkling eyes that had engulfed me as he friend was wide with pain when looking at her twin dead body.


    I could only hope that she was safe, that the chaos I had unleashed wouldn¡¯t claim her as its next victim.


    The thought of her, innocent being dragged into this violence that was meant for me only was killing me inside.


    And then, of course, there was Frank. His memory lingered, a haunting presence that refused to be exorcised.


    His death weighed heavily upon me, a burden I couldn¡¯t shake. I had been the catalyst for his demise, my actions setting in motion the events that had led to his tragic end.


    The guilt of it all was suffocating. Crushing me down and I just want to stay there. Hide my face and just wish for death.


    The tears that had long refused to fall, frozen in a state of suspended grief, finally broke free, slipping silently down my cheeks.


    Words echoing in my mind, a haunting refrain that refused to be silenced: "He fucking died, you are the cause of it. no one liked you but you just wanted to be a burden."


    More tears fell down, Aria¡¯s twin brother was gone, lost to me forever. The pain of his death, a wound that threatened to consume me whole.


    His death was my fault, I had been the catalyst, I had being the one that didn¡¯t show them that letter, maybe they would have ran or kicked me out their home.


    No matter how hard I tried to make myself or tell myself that I couldn¡¯t do anything to stop what had happened, I was still to be blamed for many things.


    The thought of facing Aria again, of looking into her eyes and seeing the pain and loss that I had caused, was too much to bear.


    As I am, I¡¯m just wishing and praying for a peaceful death, a release from the pain and suffering that had become my life.


    The phrase appears in my mind, a bitter irony that I would love to get."Rest in peace." I had never felt more alive, more aware of the pain and suffering that surrounded me.


    Being alive was hell, a never-ending cycle of grief and sorrow. I just wanted it to end, to find some measure of peace in a world that seemed determined to deny it to me.


    Anyone I held dear dies. The memories came flooding back. My mother¡¯s smile face from that her old photo flashed into my tormented brain.


    She had given her life to bring me into this world, and now, it seemed, I was cursed to bring death to those I loved or even liked.


    I¡¯m a magnet for bad luck. I was a toxic presence, a dark cloud that brought destruction and despair to all those around me.


    Just as I was drowning in this sea of despair, the sound of a car engine roaring to life cut through the darkness, shattering the spell that had held me captive.


    The sudden noise was jarring, a harsh reminder that I was still in the world of the living, no matter how much I might wish to escape.


    No matter how much I wish to just end it all. I slowly came back to reality, realizing that I was now sitting on someone¡¯s thighs, my head lolling limply against their chest.


    It was the same person who had carried me out of that room, their arms still wrapped tightly around me. But who were they? And where were we going?


    Was it time to be the bait?


    A voice cut through the silence, a greeting. "Good morning, Don," said the person who sounded to be at the front on the right. if my senses are working well.


    "Romeo." This was from someone at the front too but at the right, saying my tomentor name with a bit of annoyance.


    The name made my ears to perk up like a wild animal sensing danger. Romeo? l


    The devil incarnate, the madman who had tormented me for so long. My mind seethed with hatred, my heart burning with a fierce desire for revenge.


    I hated him so much, so much than my dead father. I wished to kill him, to make him feel just a fraction of the pain he had inflicted upon me.


    The person holding me, their arms wrapped tightly around me, spoke in a smooth, nonchalant tone. "Good morning, James." That voice, that voice was unmistakable, sending a shiver down my spine.


    It was Romeo, the monster who had haunted my every waking moment.


    Romeo¡¯s voice spoke again, his words dripping with an air of superiority. "Antonio." I calculated the acknowledgement, my mind working overtime to piece together the puzzle.


    Mr. Antonio must be the one sitting at the side, while James was the driver. I organized how the car inferior looks like with the occupants that I¡¯m aware of.


    The car moved and the hours tick by as I sat stiffly on Romeo¡¯s thighs, my blind eyes blinking futilely in the darkness.


    The sound of a phone ringing pierced the air and Romeo¡¯s low voice followed. "Si??" The raspy Italian word, a curt acknowledgement that commanded attention.


    His cold and firm hands rested on my waist, a possessive grip that made my skin crawl.


    A fucking creep.


    Romeo¡¯s voice took on a serious, almost menacing tone as he continued to speak in Italian. "Digli che la sua principessa e? in arrivo e farebbe meglio a essere con Ivan alla location.(Tell him that his princess is on her way and he¡¯d better be with Ivan at the location."


    There was a threat in his tone and I wondered who was on the other line and what were they discussing.


    The hours ticked by, the car moving at a steady speed, I found myself focusing on the passing minutes, counting them down to hold onto even if it¡¯s a small thread of control, a tiny anchor that would keep me tethered to reality.


    "We are here." James¡¯ voice cut through the silence amd my head, on its own accord, snapped towards the sound.


    What! My neck muscles strained with the sudden, involuntary movement.But before I could process what was happening, a sharp, stinging pain pierced my neck.


    A syringe injecting its contents into my bloodstream, no doubt about it as I felt the wave of dizziness wash over me.


    My limbs growing heavy and unresponsive as the poison coursed through my veins. My head fell back, my cheek pressing against Romeo¡¯s chest again.


    Three hours had passed, an endless expanse of time during which I had been trapped in a living nightmare.


    And now, Romeo was renewing his "product", ensuring that I remained docile, compliant, and completely at his mercy.


    "Time to shine, princess." The words were a cruel mockery, a twisted jest that only served to highlight the depths of my despair.


    I¡¯m in deep shit.

 Chapter 76: ★Sniper★

    Chapter 76: ¡ïSniper¡ï


    ~Chapter 76~


    ROMEO


    James swung open the car door for me, and I carefully lifted the paralyzed princess out of my lap, her limp body sagging in my arms.


    Stepping into the blazing morning sun, its warm rays dancing across my masked face.


    The pitiful princess let out a pitiful sob, her constant crying a grating melody that wore on my nerves. I rolled my eyes, annoyed by her over dramatics.


    Being immobile wasn¡¯t the end of the world, but she¡¯s determined to milk it for all it was worth, her tears flowing every damned second.


    Her punishment was almost laughable, a mere slap on the wrist compared to the brutal treatment I usually reserved for people like her.


    But there was something about Katya, a delicate, ethereal quality that seemed to insulate her from the full force of my wrath.


    Whenever I tried to punish her, to break her spirit and crush her will, she would somehow, inexplicably, emerge unscathed.


    It was as if she had a guardian angel watching over her, shielding her from the worst of my cruelty.


    She hasn¡¯t seen nothing.


    I clicked my tongue in frustration, the sound echoing through the morning air as I walked towards the warehouse with Antonio beside me, while James stayed behind to keep watch.


    Boris, that insufferable idiot, had somehow managed to cheat death, and instead of being grateful, he had the audacity to call me, demanding to know the whereabouts of his precious daughter.


    The audacity of the man was staggering. Did he really think I would just hand her over to him, after all the trouble I had gone to in order to acquire her back after her escape? The very idea was almost...amusing.


    But ofcourse I agreed to Boris¡¯s demand, only because I had an ulterior motive, a hidden agenda that would ultimately prove to be his downfall.


    I¡¯d told him I¡¯ll return his daughter, but only if he provides me with something in return: Ivan¡¯s location.


    It shocked me to the core, really did, that Boris, Boris the cunning demon would agree to anything to save his daughter but I¡¯m not in the position to judge when I never knew their relationship.


    He might be a good father but I also knew that he would try to double-cross me. That dog loyalty to Ivan was unsettling and I knew he wouldn¡¯t heeled to my demands too.


    But I didn¡¯t care. In fact, I was counting on it. You see, I had a score to settle with Boris, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so.


    I had promised him that he would be the one to take his daughter and bring me Ivan¡¯s location himself.


    It was a clever move, really. Not only would I get what I wanted- if he does the right thing-, but I would also get to watch Boris grovel and squirm.


    I could have sent anyone to do the job but last time those bastards betrayed me and I would like to kill Boris myself knowing he died through me.


    We stepped into the warehouse, the heavy metal door creaking shut behind us, enveloping us in silence.


    The air was thick with the scent of dust and I swept my gaze across the vast, empty space, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.


    The warehouse was an abandoned one, left in the outskirts of the city one of my territory.


    My eyes roamed over the place, observing for any signs of life but could see any yet I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that we were being watched.


    My gaze landed on a small chair positioned in the center of the room. It looked out of place, a tiny island in a sea of nothingness.


    I walked towards it and as I drew closer, I noticed a small, white envelope lying on the seat.


    Antonio, sensing my interest, strode over to investigate. He picked up the envelope, his fingers deftly opening the flap.


    He pulled out a small piece of paper, his eyes scanning the contents. His expression remained impassive, but I could sense a flicker of curiosity behind his eyes.


    "Drop her on the chair and move ten feet back," the letter instructed and a cold smile spread across my face.


    That bastard was clever, I¡¯ll give him that. He thought he could outsmart me, but I was always one step ahead.


    I bent down, Katya¡¯s stiff body awkwardly sagging in my arms as I carefully sat her down on the chair, holding her upright to prevent her from toppling over.


    Antonio handed me a small syringe, its contents a special concoction I had made to render Katya mobile, yet blind to her surroundings.


    She would be able to move, to struggle, yet utterly unable to see the danger lurking around her.


    I injected the serum into Katya¡¯s vein, and she let out a tiny hiss as the liquid coursed through her bloodstream.


    Watching with interest as her fingers twitched, and then, in a barely audible whisper, she spoke: "I can move." Her words were laced with a mix of wonder and fear.


    She jerked herself upright and right there, I thought she might tumble off the chair. But she managed to steady herself, her hands flailing wildly as she tried to defend herself against an invisible threat.


    It was cute, but stupid.


    "I can¡¯t see, I still can¡¯t see," she whimpered, her hands flying to her face, her fingers probing the air around her wide, sightless eyes.


    I grinned. "Yes, you can¡¯t see," I paused, gauging her reaction "and I would advise you not to move too much off the chair...or you¡¯ll meet your death." I lied, the words were for manipulation, a cruel trick designed to keep her paralyzed with fear.


    Instantly, she froze, her body rigid with terror, her chest rising and falling with rapid, panicked breaths.


    I almost laughed out loud at the sight. She was so easy to manipulate. It was almost...boring.


    What a shame.


    @#$$


    Antonio let out a gruff, annoyed mutter, and I rolled my eyes in response. The stupid old man had been the one to suggest using Katya as bait in the first place.


    Now, he was acting like he had nothing to do with it. Wasn¡¯t he the one who said I was getting obsessed and I should handle her with hate.


    "Are you comfortable?"My voice dripped with false concern to the scared princess.


    Katya remained as stiff as a rock, her body rigid with fear, even now that she was no longer under the influence of my drug.


    Her blind eyes stared blankly ahead, unblinking and unresponsive. A meek, barely audible breath escaped her lips as she whispered, "No." Her tiny voice trembled, and her body shook with a faint, uncontrollable tremor.


    Seemingly getting impatient with the exchange, the old stupid man left my side and began walking backwards, carefully measuring out the ten feet specified in the envelope.


    Antonio eyes flicked towards me, then back to Katya, before finally settling on some point behind me.


    I could sense his unease, his growing impatience with the situation. He had always been the paranoid type and the old man should chill.


    I just smiled to myself, knowing that everything was going exactly according to plan, turning my back on Katya and walked over to where Antonio stood.


    We both watched in silence as Katya¡¯s face contorted in both fear and desperation. Her eyes, though sightless, were wide and tears began to spill down her cheeks.


    Her small hands were clenched into tight fists, the knuckles white with tension, as if she was trying to physically restrain herself from falling apart.


    Soft, whispered words escaped her lips, the sound barely audible and I brushed off her whispers as a futile attempt to calm herself down.


    But deep down, I knew that her words were more than just a simple attempt at self-soothing. They were a cry for help, a desperate plea to anyone who would listen. And I was the only one who could hear her.


    A thin, crimson laser beam sliced through the air, the beam danced across Katya¡¯s frozen form, before steadying on her temple.


    My instincts screamed at me, recognizing the unmistakable signature of a sniper¡¯s scope. Before my mind could even process the threat, my body had already reacted.


    I sprinted towards Katya with a frantic bid to reach her before the inevitable shot rang out.


    Time seemed to slow, the world around me dissolving into a surreal blur as I flung myself at Katya, shielding her fragile body with my own just as the sniper¡¯s rifle cracked the air, hitting me squarely on my lower back.


    A searing pain exploded in my lower back as the burning sensation that radiated outward with alarming speed.


    My legs buckle and my knees crashed to the floor as I dragged Katya down with me. The agony was intense, a raging fire that threatened to consume me whole.


    Fucking hell! I realized just how close the bullet had come to severing my spinal cord. Paralysis, a fate worse than death, had been mere millimeters away.


    Antonio literally materialized beside us, his movements a blur as he shielded us from further harm.


    James burst into the warehouse just as another bullet pierces through.

 Chapter 77: ★LIKE ALWAYS★

    Chapter 77: ¡ïLIKE ALWAYS¡ï


    ~CHAPER 77~


    A strong, muscular body fell over me, its weight crushing me onto its abdomen. Arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me in a protective grip.


    I felt the warmth of the person¡¯s breath on my hair and the beat of their heart as my ears pressed on their chest.


    A loud gunshot rang out, making me almost jump as a cry of pain escaped the person¡¯s lips, their body tensing beneath me.


    They dragged me down to the floor, their grip on me tightening and I yelped as I fell, my hands grasping for something, anything to hold onto.


    My fingers dug into the person¡¯s arms, feeling the muscles beneath their skin flexing with pain.


    Romeo¡¯s words echoed in my head, "If you move from that chair, it¡¯s your death." But I wasn¡¯t in the chair anymore.


    This mysterious someone was dragging me to the ground. The body falling on top of me as I shut my blinded eyes tightly, my eyelids squeezing together in a futile attempt to block out the chaos.


    Deep breaths escaped my lips, my chest heaving with fear as I braced for my death. My heart racing, my pulse pounding in my ears like a drum.


    My mind was a jumble of confusion and terror, unable to process what was happening as I hit the floor, trapped beneath this person¡¯s body. And I had no idea what was happening.


    The body on top of me groaned, "Fucking hell," the voice exclaimed, laced with pain and annoyance.


    I instantly recognized the voice as Romeo¡¯s, the sound sending a jolt of surprise through me. He¡¯s the one holding me, hugging me like his life depended on it.


    What the fuck is happening? Why is the devil holding me? Heavy footsteps pounded the floor near us and I felt two presences surrounding us.


    The air that was already charged with tension, thickened more as the silence became heavy. I strained my ears, trying to hear what was happening, but there was only the sound of heavy breathing from my assumption, Romeo.


    My inability to see was killing me dearly, leaving me feeling helpless and vulnerable. Hearing every sound was helpful, but it wasn¡¯t enough.


    I needed to see what was happening. "James, help him up," I heard a voice say, the voice sounded like Mr. Antonio¡¯s, calm and authoritative.


    Hands grasped Romeo¡¯s arms, pulling him out from on top of me and a deep inhale of relief washed over me as his weight lifted off me, but it was short-lived.


    Another gunshot rang out, the sound making me stiffen, my blind eyes bleeding with tears of frustration.


    Not seeing what was happening, means I couldn¡¯t protect myself. Romeo¡¯s voice cut through the chaos on my mind. "Go help her up, James."


    But James hesitated voice cuts through, laced with concern. "But boss, your injury..." Romeo¡¯s response was immediate, his voice brooking no argument.


    "Shut up, I can manage." He cut James off. I felt hands grasp my arms, pulling me up from the floor and I stumbled, my legs shaking beneath me.


    Romeo shouted something, but I couldn¡¯t make out the words. I was too busy trying to get my bearings, to make sense of what was happening.


    What had happened to Romeo that James said he was injured?


    Who was shooting at us? I had so many questions, but no answers.


    "Boris! You sneaky bastard!" Romeo¡¯s voice resounded, dripping with venom. I felt a jolt of shock at the name. Boris?


    That¡¯s my dead abusive father¡¯s name. Why the hell is Romeo calling out to him? Didn¡¯t he know that Boris was dead, killed in the fire that ravaged our home that day he invaded it?


    The memories came flooding back, the smell of smoke and ash. But before I could process my thoughts, Antonio¡¯s voice cut through the air.


    "Romeo, the sniper has been killed." The words were like a balm to my frazzled nerves, the person shooting has been killed. James, who was holding me, moved forward, and I staggered, holding onto him for dear life.


    I couldn¡¯t see a thing, my blindness making me move aimlessly. I clung to James as he dragged me forward. My heart was thudding, with the, what was happening? Who was the Boris? Because definitely it can¡¯t be the one I¡¯m thinking about.


    @$$


    "And where¡¯s Boris?" Romeo paused as he waited for a response. Before anyone could answer, a phone ringing sound pierced the air, shrill and insistent.


    "It¡¯s him calling," Antonio¡¯s neutral voice said. My head was spinning, trying to keep up with the movements and interactions around me.


    I was still trapped in james¡¯s arms, and what was still confusing for me was the fact that my dead father¡¯s name had been brought up twice.


    The first time, I had thought it might be a mistake, a miscommunication. But now, I wasn¡¯t so sure.


    A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about the possibility that my father might still be alive.


    But that was impossible. I had seen when Romeo men light up the mansion with the liquids and burn it down to the ground with him inside.


    "Romeo, Romeo, Romeo." The voice was like a slap to my face, a harsh reminder of the past. I immediately recognized the voice as my demonic father¡¯s, Boris.


    My heart literally skipped a beat as I gasped in shock, my mind reeling with the impossible. How could this be? I had seen him die, but here he was, his voice dripping with malice and hatred.


    "You fucking old man," A chill ran down my spine as Romeo¡¯s annoyed voice cut through as he spat.


    But Boris just laughed, that sound that always made me cower in fear and resentment, sending dreads down my spine.


    Romeo¡¯s voice was immediate, his rage and anger boiling over. "Do you fucking know your sniper tried to kill your only child?" His words were like a punch to my gut, leaving me breathless.


    Sniper?


    Only child?


    Kill? The words swirled around my mind, making my blood run cold. All this was getting too overwhelming for me, my brain overheating as it struggled to process and understand what was happening.


    The room was spinning around me even as I couldn¡¯t see it, the sounds and voices blurring together into chaos.


    I was drowning, unable to catch my breath as the truth slowly sank in.


    "Oh yes, is she dead yet?" My father¡¯s voice came through in contempt.


    A tear slipped out, rolling down my cheek as I realized that it was me he was talking about, definitely me.


    The gunshots that had rang out earlier had been meant for me, intended to kill me.


    But why wasn¡¯t I dead already? I remembered a body blocking me as the gunshots rang out, a body that had shielded me from harm. And it was Romeo.


    Romeo, the man who had been holding me captive, who had been tormenting me with his presence.


    Why had he saved me? What did he hope to gain from it? I was confused, my mind reeling with questions and doubts.


    He had groaned in pain, his body tensing beneath mine as the gunshots rang out. James had wanted to help him, saying he was hurt, but Romeo had denied it, his voice laced with a mix of pain and stubbornness.


    Did he...did he really shield me from the bullet? Oh no, that can¡¯t be it, I thought, trying to push the idea away.


    He would gladly let me die, I told myself, convincing myself that Romeo hated me too much to save me.


    But the memory of his body covering mine, of his groan of pain, lingered in my mind, refusing to be ignored.


    Snap out of it Katya, he killed frank, he doesn¡¯t give two fucks if you died. Romeo¡¯s heated voice cut through the air.


    "So you wanted her dead," he spat "You should have said it a long time ago, no need to waste my time." He said and there wasn¡¯t any response coming from my father, just silence.


    Then, Romeo continued "Count your days, both you and the coward, Ivan." Romeo was furious, his rage simmering just below the surface, waiting to boil over.


    "Let¡¯s go," Romeo growled as he turned to leave. It seemed the phone call had ended, and James moved forward, guiding me through the darkness.


    I leaned on him heavily, relying on his direction as I stumbled through the unknown space. The walk out from wherever we were took an eternity, with me stumbling and staggering like a blind person, which, ironically, I was.


    We moved and I couldn¡¯t shake off the feeling of uncertainty that gripped me. Was this the end of me being bait, or was it just another twist in the game?


    And if my father was truly still alive, and had tried to kill me in front of Romeo, would he finally understand that I was innocent? Would he finally see that I was a victim, not a pawn to be used and discarded?


    The thought of my father¡¯s betrayal cut deep, but it wasn¡¯t that much surprising though.


    Anger and resentment wash over me. This whole time, I had been broken, shattered by the events of my past. Romeo had killed the innocent people around me, breaking me more than what my dead/alive father had done.


    But now, it seemed that one of my abuser was alive, and that he had tried to kill me. I staggered with the thought and James caught me before I fell.


    I had no idea what the future held, or what lay in store for me.


    Like always.


    ¡ï¡ï


    I¡¯m having a very strong writer block ATM that¡¯s why update are slower than usual, I hope I get it through.


    Thanks for reading:)

 Chapter 78: ★Treament★

    Chapter 78: ¡ïTreament¡ï


    ~Chapter 78~


    ROMEO


    James speedily drove the car into the garage and killed the engine, rushing to my side and reached out to help me out of the car, but I raised a hand.


    "Pick up Katya," I growled, wincing as I pushed myself out of the car. My back felt like it was on fire, the pain throbbing in time with my beating heart.


    Antonio had tried his best by stopping the bleeding but that didn¡¯t stop the pain.


    James was hesitant to leave me, his eyes darting between me and Katya, "I can still move, idiot"


    My harsh glare and curse sent him scurrying to Katya¡¯s side of the car. He gently lifted her out of the vehicle, cradling her in his arms, carefully.


    My mind hasn¡¯t been at rest since that cunning snake tried to kill his own child, like the fuck. I couldn¡¯t wrap my head about what to feel about the situation, did he never love his daughter to the extent of wanting to kill her.


    But why? My only logics is if Boris wanted her dead that means and indicates that she knows something he wants and needed to be silenced.


    Katya¡¯s head lolled against James¡¯ shoulder, her blinded eyes facing upwards with a slack expression. She was so still, her body stiff, making me think she was waiting for something to happen.


    Shaking my head at her reaction, I took a tentative step towards the front door, my legs still shaky from the pain coursing through my back I almost fell.


    I was about to take another step when Antonio, the old man appeared by my side, his wrinkled hands grasping my elbow to steady me.


    "Lean on me, Romeo," he gravelly said, as he took some of my weight onto himself.


    Shooting him a sideways glance, and he met my gaze with a stern expression, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern.


    I knew that look all too well - it was the look that said, "You¡¯re in trouble, young man." And I had no doubt that I was going to be on the receiving end of a stern lecture, or worse, a scolding that would leave my ears ringing, after I get a proper treatment.


    We approached the entrance and the two guards stationed outside snapped to attention. "Do you need any help, Mr. Antonio?" one of them asked, eyeing me with a hint of alarm and fear.


    Was it Samuel? No maybe tunner, well whatever his name was, wasn¡¯t my priority at the moment as Antonio gave them a respectful nod, but declined their offer.


    He pushed open the entrance, and we slipped inside, leaving the guards to wonder what was going on.


    As we stepped into the foyer, the warm glow of the chandelier overhead enveloped us, giving me a sense of calm which vibrated through every cell in my body.


    Until.


    "Romeo!" My nonna¡¯s voice pierced the air, shrill with worry, and I felt my heart sink.


    I didn¡¯t need this right now. Not when I was still bleeding a little from a gunshot wound and leaning on Antonio like a cripple.


    Fuck no! I turned towards her. Her eyes, usually bright and sharp, were wide with alarm, and her thin lips were pursed in a tight line.


    Forcing out a thin line smile at her, I tried pulling off Antonio helping grip on me but that old man was damned determined for my nonna to see me weak.


    That old hag could sure use her wheelchair like a freaking car, I thought, watching as she expertly maneuvered her chair towards me.


    I had forgotten that she was still here, and now she was going to be over worried, fussing over me like a mother hen, which she was but well you get the drill.


    I didn¡¯t need this. Not now. I was trying to process everything that had happened, and I didn¡¯t need my nonna¡¯s worry adding to the mix.


    Taking a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the onslaught of questions and concerns that was sure to come.


    I don¡¯t even know who told her about the double cross that happened but I have my suspicion to be the old man at my side.


    "Nonna," I said, sounding so calm, but my voice came out rough and strained. I winced, feeling the sharp pain shoot through my back, and Antonio¡¯s grip on my elbow tightened, holding me steady.


    My free hand was suddenly grabbed, and the warmth from my my nonna¡¯s small, wrinkled hand wrapped around me.


    I looked down at her worried face, her eyes scanning mine with a deep concern that made my heart ache.


    Sure I acted like I don¡¯t give a fuck about her but she was my nonna, my only grandmother who was still alive and cute


    Eh?


    She still gave me a stern glare, her eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, but I could see the fear and worry lurking beneath the surface.


    I sighed, feeling the sudden mix of emotions: frustration, guilt, and a hint of embarrassment.


    This gave her the upper hand, to bring in on the argument for being in the Mafia.


    Antonio helped me towards the elevator while my nonna¡¯s hand tightened around mine, holding me steady as we walked.


    We all piled into the elevator, James carrying Katya in his arms. She looked like a fish, her eyes wide open but unseeing, her face pale and drawn.


    My grandma¡¯s eyes widened as she took in Katya¡¯s appearance, and I knew she was bound to ask questions.


    "Who¡¯s she?" my nonna asked Antonio, as she gazed at Katya with both interest and concern.


    Antonio¡¯s eyes flicked towards me, seeking guidance on how much to reveal. I looked back at him, shrugging my shoulders in a gesture of uncertainty.


    The elevator lurched into motion, carrying us smoothly towards our destination.


    My nonna¡¯s eyes never left Katya¡¯s face, her gaze softening as she took in the girl¡¯s stiff posture.


    She reached out a hand, gently grasping Katya¡¯s fingers, which were rigid even without the influence of the injection.


    "What¡¯s your name, dear?" my nonna asked, looking up at Katya with a kind smile.


    I watched, fascinated, as Katya¡¯s head snapped towards the direction of my nonna¡¯s voice. Her eyes boring unto the air above my nonna¡¯s head, as she tries to locate the source of the sound.


    If she wasn¡¯t blind, she would have been looking directly at my nonna, meeting her gaze with her bright gold colored eyes. But instead, her eyes stared into empty space, her face a mask of concentration.


    My nonna¡¯s eyes met mine, a question hovering in their depths. She knew something was off, but she didn¡¯t know what.


    "E? cieca? (is she blind?" my nonna asked, speaking in our native Italian tongue. She didn¡¯t want to be rude or insensitive, but she couldn¡¯t help but ask the question that was clearly on her mind.


    And I knew that I had to tread carefully, revealing just enough information to satisfy her curiosity without revealing too much.


    But before I could respond, my nonna¡¯s eyes gave me a harsh glare. "What have you done, Romeo?"


    Oh she knows me to well, I internally smirked.


    "I just injected her with one of my inventions," I said finally, sounding casual despite the tension that was building inside my old hag.


    Her hand shot out, and she smacked me in the side, the side that was still throbbing with pain from the gunshot wound.


    Fuck! I winced, feeling the sharp jolt of agony as her hand made contact with my tender flesh.


    "Porca miseria! (Good grief!" my nonna exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth in horror as she realized what she had done.


    She quickly grabbed hold of me, apologizing profusely as she pulled me into a tight hug. This was even worse, but I let her.


    "Mi dispiace tanto, mio bambino (I¡¯m so sorry, my little kid," she voice trembling with regret.


    I gently pushed her away, wincing inwardly as the pain from her slap still lingered. "I¡¯m sorry, but why would you do that?" She looked at me like I was some stranger, like she couldn¡¯t believe what I had done.


    Well this shouldn¡¯t be that shocked to her, should it? Clearly she should remember my little arrangements with my dear cousin, Adelasia.


    Antonio stepped into my shoes in answering.. "Because she¡¯s Boris¡¯s daughter," My nonna¡¯s expression changed in an instant.


    "Boris?" she repeated, barely recognizing the name. Ofcourse she won¡¯t, unless she had made her findings which I highly doubt as she hated anything about my line of work.


    "Ivan¡¯s right-hand man," I said with a sigh, the words almost getting stuck in my throat. I was tired of explaining myself.


    Basically, I was tired of even talking.


    The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open with a soft whoosh. My nonna¡¯s eyes snapped towards Katya, and something shifted.


    Her eyes hardened, her expression transforming from worry to pain, or maybe even rage.


    "Boris¡¯s daughter," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She looked like she had been punched in the gut.


    A pang of guilt stabbed at me, knowing that I had brought the pain from her past back into her life.


    ???


    Hello guys, thanks for the constant support and well wishes, the book isn¡¯t dropped and I won¡¯t drop it.


    I love this book to much to drop it and I would love to see it to the end.


    I know I haven¡¯t been consistent in updating but I have a lot going on at the moment but I would try in giving more every week, so stay toned.


    Btw I got a new book so please check it out and add to library


    The name: Wolfless; Rejected by the Lycan, Embraced by the Tribrid King

 Chapter 79: ★Real punishment?★

    Chapter 79: ¡ïReal punishment?¡ï


    ~Chapter 79~


    Katya


    AN: Sorry for the late update. I¡¯m really sorry.


    ??


    My posture like a stone statue remained rigid with stiffness that seemed to intensify, even without the lingering effects of the soul-crushing syringe wearing off.


    Though I still had no visual¡ª The unmistakeably shifts in sound and scent told me we¡¯d left the car and arrived at the estate ¨C my prison.


    The person holding me adjusted his grip, and the unfamiliar yet slightly familiar scent of his cologne wafted towards me.


    it was different different from Romeo¡¯s rugged, smoky aroma¡ª Don¡¯t ask me but I just knew he wasn¡¯t the one cradling me.


    The murmur of voices around me painted a picture of our surroundings.


    Romeo¡¯s deep tone being unmistakable, and Mr. Antonio¡¯s calm yet slightly strict voice in the background.


    A new voice joined the mix ¨C a gentle feminine voice with an old, soothing melody. The voice was much calmer and refreshing.


    "Who¡¯s she?" the mysterious woman asked and I snapped my head towards the sound, her words sparking a reaction within me.


    My eyes strained to pierce the darkness. Even though I couldn¡¯t see, I sensed her presence, her warmth, like a comforting breeze on a cold day.


    And surprisingly the effects of the syringe slowly began to fade, outlines started forming through my blindness.


    A soft, wrinkled hand grasped my fingers gently, it was warm to hold, a stark contrast to the coldness I was used to.


    "What¡¯s your name, dear?" the feminine voice asked. The voice was so soft and gentle like a mother hen speaking to a beloved child but I couldn¡¯t get my lips moving to answer.


    Some movement occurred after my inability to answer, followed by words in Italian that drifted past me.


    "E? cieca?" (Is she blind?) it sucks to not understand what was being said but then the woman¡¯s tone shifted to English.


    "What have you done, Romeo?"Disappointment, utter disappointment was clear in the woman¡¯s tone but with some concern hovering through her words, creating tension in the room


    Romeo¡¯s response was nonchalant, but it quickly sparked a reaction. "I just injected her with one of my inventions."


    A loud smack echoed through the space, followed by Romeo¡¯s groan of pain.


    The old woman¡¯s apology was immediate but in their native language, so I tuned it out, focusing on her final words.


    "I¡¯m sorry, but why would you do that?" the feminine voice asked and I heard another voice which sounded like Mr Antonio voiced out slowly, "Because she¡¯s Boris¡¯s daughter."


    Hearing my father¡¯s name was like a punch to the gut. I felt the weight of attention shift towards me, and the old woman¡¯s hand tightened around mine.


    I froze, my stiff body going even more stiff "Boris¡¯s daughter," I could barely hear her whispered that.


    Her whisper was barely audible, if I wasn¡¯t focusing all my energy towards my hearing I would have missed it.


    The silence that followed was heavy, like a very heavy blanket that suffocated the room.


    I strained to see what was happening, hoping to catch even a glimpse of what the heck was going on but my blindness left me dependent on my other senses.


    Amplifying the tension in the room.


    Why was the place so quiet.


    Thick, thick silence followed, the silence was so thick it was hard to breath.


    Straining all my senses to understand why the place was so quiet, my mind already getting occupied with possibilities.


    Was it because I was Boris¡¯s daughter?


    No!


    It couldn¡¯t be that because I¡¯m that dead man¡¯s daughter for them to be this quiet.


    My thoughts swirled, trying to make sense of the situation, when a voice which I would never forget echoed through the space¡ª a voice that had been etched in my memory.


    Voice that sent shivers down my spine, even in my dreams,. "Ivan¡¯s right-hand man." The words like a ticking time bomb.


    The elevator¡¯s ding shattered the silence, breaking the heavy tension that had left me feeling helpless.


    The sudden sound was welcomed like a release, a sudden shift in the atmosphere.


    But that didn¡¯t still stop my train of thoughts. The silence had being broken, but the tension remained.


    Feeling like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into an abyss of unknowns.


    Ivan?


    The name sparked a memory, a flashback to the moment Romeo¡¯s hand had almost ended my life.


    My father was his right-hand man? For what? The questions cycled in my mind.


    I remembered the secrecy, the hints of my father¡¯s shady business dealings. I¡¯d always known he was involved in something dark, but I¡¯d never met his associates, never knew if he had a bigger boss.


    The revelation raised more questions than answers.


    Hearing about this, about my father¡¯s role was like a¡ª no, it was infact a slap in the face, forcing me to rethink my entire life.


    I¡¯d been living in the dark, oblivious to the secrets and lies that surrounded me. The constant abuse had left me lost.


    This realization was suffocating, making me wonder what else I¡¯d been kept in the dark about.


    Maybe my mother was alive?


    Delusional? I know but a lady could wish.


    The hand holding mine was released, and the room temperature increased. The sudden loss of warmth left me feeling isolated and vulnerable.


    Like the bad egg. Time seemed to stand still, the silence stretching out.


    Then, a quiet sob pierced the air, low and shaking, like someone was trying to suppress a cry.


    My heart twisted with empathy, and I strained to identify the source of the sound.


    Who was crying? The sob was heart-wrenching, and sorrow filled me, even without knowing who the lady was.


    A soft sigh filled the air, followed by a gentle push forward on my arm.


    Taking the hint, I began walking with the help of the person holding me. The soft whoosh of footsteps and a low click signaled our exit from the elevator.


    The air changed, growing colder and more sterile. The smell of antiseptic and medication hit me hard.


    My nose twitched at the immersed scent, and I knew we were somewhere with a strong medical presence.


    The smell was overwhelming, transporting me to memories of my father reluctantly taking me to the hospital¡ª when my abuse had gone to far and my wounds were bigger than me treating myself.


    I knew the estate¡¯s main mansion was huge and well-equipped, but I couldn¡¯t believe it housed a fully-fledged hospital.


    Or was I wrong?


    Are we were at the estate?


    Before my escape, I¡¯d cleaned most areas¡ªgym, spa, and I was certain this place was packed with secrets and hidden rooms.


    "Right this way, boss!." The sudden sound made me jump, and I almost tripped if not for the firm hand holding me steady.


    The voice was chipper, almost annoyingly so, and it grated on my nerves.


    Before I could process the voice and analyze everything, Mr. Antonio¡¯s deep tone shattered the air,


    "Take her away." The words were direct, devoid of emotion, and sent dreads down my spine.


    Who was being taken away? The answer became clear as the person holding me turned and began moving, pulling me along.


    Disorientated and unsure of my surroundings or destination. The only presence I sensed was the person holding me, and the feeling that we were alone.


    Where were we going? Was this the start of my real punishment? The uncertainty was unsettling, and my mind began to race with worst-case scenarios.


    I stumbled slightly, my blindness making every step uncertain.


    ??


    Update resume, thanks for all ur support and well wishes. It really meant a lot and pushed me to try more. Please bare with me this Chapter and I hope to give more better ones than this scrap ?????

 Chapter 80: ★Abnormal bullet★

    Chapter 80: ¡ïAbnormal bullet¡ï


    ~Chapter 80~


    ROMEO


    My nonna¡¯s low sobs were slowing reducing as we were led over to a room in the hospital wing of the mansion.


    Katya had been dismissed by Antonio, who seemed to really dislike her presence since the day he told me I was getting obsessed.


    My back hurt from the smack my nonna had delivered, and I still tried to discreetly move from Antonio¡¯s helping hand.


    The high-pitched doctor hastily opened the door, and Antonio guided me to the bed, helping me settle into the white sheets in the middle of the room.


    The scent of antiseptic and medication filled my nostrils, but I was used to it.


    My nonna maneuvered her wheelchair to the side of the door, her eyes now fixed on me with a mix of concern and... something else, pain?


    Or anger?


    Antonio noticed me struggling to remove my white shirt, after pulling off the suit blazer, and he stepped in to assist me.


    His fingers swiftly helped me out of the shirt, and as it fell off, the cool air touched my bare skin.


    The bullet wound on my back was a mess, blood and sweat soaking through the fabric and dripping onto the floor.


    The sight of it made me wonder back to how close Katya had been to death.


    Had her bastard father truly intended to kill her, or was this some twisted test¡ªexpecting me to intervene?


    The doctor walked over to us with her medical tools, her hands shaking slightly as she began pulling out the bullet.


    Her focus was solely on the task at hand. She looked new, but I knew without telling that she must have gone through a series of interrogations and tests from Antonio for her to be working here.


    The bullet wound stung a lot, but it wasn¡¯t my first time being shot at. This was just another normal day.


    I gritted my teeth, trying not to focus on the pain. I needed to find out what the reason was for that sniper shot.


    Was it aimed for Katya¡¯s death¡ªwhich would be surprising¡ªor was it meant for something else?


    I needed answers, and I needed them fast.


    My gaze drifted to the side, where my nonna sat quietly, her eyes fixed on her hands. Between her fingers was an object I knew too well.


    She held my father¡¯s ring, the Salvatore family ring, caressing it softly while she locked eyes with me.


    And for that split second, I saw how deeply in pain she was. I couldn¡¯t bear looking into her eyes.


    Quickly, I looked away, not wanting to revisit the memories that lingered behind that ring, that day, nor the pain it left.


    But that godforsaken day was etched in my memory like a scar¡ªwhich it was. I¡¯d lost a part of myself, a part that would never be regained.


    My humanity.


    That ring, a symbol of our family¡¯s legacy, had once belonged to my father.


    As the Salvatore family ring, it was meant to be passed down through generations of leaders¡ªevery leader has one as soon as they¡¯re born, and in death, it was supposed to be buried with them.


    But my nonna had begged to keep it, to hold onto something that had belonged to her son before he died.


    I had agreed, despite knowing it was forbidden, driven by my own grief too. I had just lost my parents.I was barely fifteen at the time, and my emotions were raw.


    The disagreement with my uncles had been fierce, and in the heat of the moment, I¡¯d killed one of them for daring to insult my father¡¯s memory, calling him weak for dying.


    I¡¯d been consumed by rage and grief, and in that moment, I¡¯d drawn a line ¨C disrespecting my parents would never be tolerated.


    There were many things I could tolerate, but disrespecting my parents was a death note, and I¡¯d made a statement.


    Antonio watched the doctor closely as she began extracting the bullet; he stood rigid, as if this was the first time this had happened.


    The old man should take a rest... "Fuck!" I hissed before I could even finish my thoughts.


    For fuck¡¯s sake, something pierced my flesh right where the doctor was removing the bullet. It hurt so damn much, like a thousand needles stabbing my spine.


    "Oh my God!" The doctor¡¯s gasp of shock echoed through the room, and Antonio swiftly moved to her side.


    From the corner of my eye, I saw his face pale. "What the..." his voice trailed off.


    I was confused, unsure what was happening, but the pain was escalating, fast!


    What the hell was happening in my back?


    "Ahhh" Before I knew it, a scream tore from my lips as something began to move deeper inside my back, tearing flesh and muscle.


    The agony was indescribable, and I felt my world spinning out of control.


    "What the hell is going on?" I barely managed to exclaim, the pain rendering me almost paralyzed.


    The room spun around me, and I felt myself hitting the hard floor with a thud.


    My hands instinctively reached out to break my fall, but they banged against the cold tiles, sending shockwaves of pain through my arms.


    "Romeo!" Two voices shouted in unison ¨C my nonna¡¯s frantic cry and Antonio¡¯s urgent call.


    Antonio swiftly scooped me up, his grip firm as he lifted me back onto the bed. His sharp blue eyes blazed with anger as he turned to the doctor.


    "What the hell was that?" he demanded, echoing what was on my mind.


    The doctor stuttered, clearly confused, like us. "I-I don¡¯t know... I¡¯ve never seen anything like this before."


    My nonna worriedly wheeled herself closer to us. "We need to take him for immediate surgery. This bullet isn¡¯t normal; we can¡¯t afford to wait."


    Antonio didn¡¯t let her finish or elaborate more about this abnormal bullet. The damned old man scooped me up like a fucking princess from the bed and rushed out of the room with the doctor in tow.


    My head spun, and my body felt ten times heavy, like lead, struggling to keep my eyes open, but my vision began to blur.


    I caught a glimpse of my nonna¡¯s panicked face before my eyes rolled back, and everything went dark.


    I lost consciousness.


    ??


    Again I just want to say thank y¡¯all for still reading and ur little and big support means more than u could think


    ??