LOGIN“7 Million Dollars and 28 cents.” That was what I saw written on the blood stained papers I picked up from the ruins of my father’s burnt down restaurant. His arrest, our debts it all came crashing down on me in one night. Desperate, I ran to my fiancé for help… only to find him sliding a ring onto another woman’s finger. My heart shattered into pieces. From then on, I was nothing but a beggar ,broken, humiliated, and alone. Until one night changed everything. I opened my eyes to find myself tangled in dark silk sheets… in the bed of the most feared mafia lord on the continent. My ex’s future father-in-law. Ruthless. Dangerous. And for reasons I couldn’t understand he had claimed me.
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Elena’s POV “$7,654,274.68.” “Dollars or cents?” I whispered, my brows folding as my eyes scanned the faded paper glued to the blackened doorframe. The smell of smoke clung to the air. Ash floated like dying snowflakes around me. My chest rose and fell so fast it felt like I was choking. “No… no, no, no,” I muttered, stumbling back. The restaurant that once smelled of fresh garlic bread and roasted chicken was now nothing but burnt wood, broken glass, and gray dust. I staggered forward, my hand trembling as I touched the charred door. The paper crinkled under my fingers. That number stared back at me in bold black ink. Underneath, a bank account was scribbled, messy and cruel. My voice cracked. “Papiiiiii!” The sound tore out of me like a wounded bird. I shouted again, louder, until my throat burned. “Papiiii! Where are you?” Tears streamed down my face. I tried to push through the rubble, but smoke bit my eyes, and my body shook all over. My lips quivered so badly I could barely breathe. A woman with a scarf tied around her head stopped and grabbed my wrist. “Child, stop. He’s not inside.” “What do you mean?!” I gasped, my voice wild. “Where’s my father? Where is he?” Her eyes softened. “They arrested him last night. Men in black suits. Said something about debts.” My knees buckled, and I pressed my palms into the ashes. “Arrested? No… no, that’s not true.” “I’m sorry, dear,” she whispered. “Your father… he fought. But they dragged him away. And then …” Her voice faltered, “… they lit the place on fire.” I clutched the paper from the door and yanked it off with shaking hands. My nails tore against the wood, drawing blood, but I didn’t care. I ran. My legs carried me through the streets, past cars honking and people staring. Dust clung to my hair, my skirt slapped against my knees, my lungs screamed. Still, I didn’t stop. By the time I reached the police station, my feet were raw and bleeding, my chest heaving. I slammed against the iron gate. “Open this gate! Open it now!” I screamed. The officers inside turned their heads. One came forward slowly. “What’s the matter, miss?” “What have you done to my father?” I cried, my voice cracking. “Where is Papi? What have you done to him?” The officer’s face softened at the sight of my tears. “Calm down, young lady. Who is your father?” “Carlos Nakuru,” I said, choking on the words. “He owns the little restaurant by the old cathedral. The one you burnt down!” “We didn’t burn it,” the officer said quietly. “That was no police action.” My chest clenched. “Then who?” Before he could answer, a voice rose from behind the bars. “It’s okay, Elena.” My head snapped around. There he was my father standing behind the iron mesh. His hands cuffed, his face bruised, but his eyes… those gentle, tired eyes… fixed on me. “Papi!” I rushed to him, grabbing the bars, pressing my face between the gaps. “What’s wrong? Why are you here? Why did they burn the restaurant?” He swallowed hard. His lips trembled. For a moment, he just stared at me. Then, finally, his voice broke. “I am sorry, Elena. I took a loan… a private loan. To pay for your school. To make sure you had the best.” My heart stopped. “Loan? What loan? Papi, you told me I had a scholarship. You said the university gave me one because you worked part-time in their cafeteria!” He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I lied. I didn’t want you to feel guilty. Your mother wanted you to be a nurse. She died bringing you into this world. That restaurant… It was her memory. But I couldn’t let poverty stop your future. So, I borrowed. I thought I could pay it back. But business slowed. The new coffee chains took our customers. The interest… it grew, Elena. It grew into a monster.” My whole body shook with rage and sorrow. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide this from me?” “Because I am your father,” he whispered. “It is my duty to carry the burden, not yours.” I banged the bars with my fists. “And now what? They arrest you? They burn the only thing we had? Papi, that place was Mama’s memory! Every brick, every tile it was all her!” He turned his face away, his shoulders trembling. “I failed her. And I failed you.” “No, Papi,” I sobbed. “You didn’t fail. You tried. You gave me everything. You gave me love. But now… now I will fight for you.” The officer cleared his throat. “Visiting hours are over.” “No!” I screamed, clinging to the bars as they pulled me back. “Don’t touch me! I’m not leaving him here!” My father raised his chained hands. “Go, Elena. Be strong. Do what you must.” “I’ll get you out!” I cried, tears flooding my vision. “I swear, I’ll get you out, Papi. Even if it kills me!” I stumbled out of the station, clutching the cursed paper against my chest. The number blurred through my tears. My body felt like glass fragile, breaking, but somehow still moving. I stood on the sidewalk, staring at the world like it had tilted sideways. My breath came in short gasps. Then one thought pierced the haze. Luka. My fiancé. My perfect, wealthy, well-connected Luka. He had promised me the world, promised me safety, promised me forever. “Yes,” I whispered to myself. “Luka will help. He has to help.” I raised my hand, and a yellow cab screeched to a stop. I climbed in, slamming the door. “Where to?” the driver asked. “Downtown,” I said, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. “The silver mansion. Just drive.” The car pulled into the night. The city lights flickered across my face. My heart beat like a drum in my chest. “Hold on, Papi,” I whispered. “I’ll save you. Even if I have to kneel before the devil himself.”Chapter Seventy Five Valario’s POvI turned to the men who had held the switch on the panel, who had watched her scream and writhe and had not once questioned if we should stop. Their faces were gray with fear now. Good.“You will not touch another prisoner without detailed instruction,” I told them. “You will not adjust machines without written authorization. You will not attempt to get creative with pain. If I hear that you laid a finger on anyone without orders, you will learn what real pain feels like. Understood.”They nodded so fast it looked like panic.Brian reached for Elena’s hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You are safe now,” he whispered, though his voice shook. “Just hold on a little longer.”I watched his fingers woven through hers. Something unpleasant twisted behind my ribs. Jealousy was too simple a word for it. Possession tasted wrong in this context. Whatever it was, it burned.It should not matter who she called first if she woke. It should only matter
Chapter Seventy ThreeValerio’s POVBrian strained against the men holding him down, arms flexing, wrists twisting beneath their grip. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes never left mine. They burned bright and reckless like a man who had nothing to lose.I stepped forward slowly, wiping the last streak of blood from under my nose.“Who,” I said, voice low, “gave you the audacity to touch me?”Brian lifted his head off the floor, fury vibrating through every muscle.“Who gave you the audacity,” he shot back, “to hurt an innocent girl just because she’s poor?”My jaw tightened.He kept going.“You keep toying with her life, her feelings, her mind! You treat her like property. Like a stray animal. And she still..”His breath shook. “ …she still begged you to believe her. And you didn’t.”His words hit harder than his fist.“She didn’t steal the money,” he said, voice rough. “And unlike you, I don’t torture people without evidence.”My eyes narrowed. “What evidence?”
Chapter Seventy ThreeValerio’s POVBrian strained against the men holding him down, arms flexing, wrists twisting beneath their grip. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes never left mine. They burned bright and reckless like a man who had nothing to lose.I stepped forward slowly, wiping the last streak of blood from under my nose.“Who,” I said, voice low, “gave you the audacity to touch me?”Brian lifted his head off the floor, fury vibrating through every muscle.“Who gave you the audacity,” he shot back, “to hurt an innocent girl just because she’s poor?”My jaw tightened.He kept going.“You keep toying with her life, her feelings, her mind! You treat her like property. Like a stray animal. And she still..”His breath shook. “ …she still begged you to believe her. And you didn’t.”His words hit harder than his fist.“She didn’t steal the money,” he said, voice rough. “And unlike you, I don’t torture people without evidence.”My eyes narrowed. “What evidence?”
Chapter Seventy TwoValerio’s POV200,000 thousand dollars is like 20bucks to me but I can’t take this issue lightly because if I let this slide. The discipline I instilled in my men will waver. They know me as monster , a beast and that’s who I am continuing to be. I stood there, hands in my pockets, staring at the girl kneeling on the cold concrete floor of the holding cell. Elena. Small, shaking, soaked in tears and humiliation, a fragile thing folded in on herself. And still… the money was gone. Two hundred thousand dollars. Cash. From my project. My name. My investment.Her voice echoed again in my ears.“I swear I did not steal it.”But I had heard that sentence too many times in my life. Crooks always swore innocence. Thieves always cried. Liars always knelt.And fools always believed them.I was not a fool.I pressed my tongue to the inside of my cheek and inhaled sharply, trying to swallow the frustration that had been piling on me since morning. Everything about this pro
Chapter Seventy OneElena’s POVI felt the world tilt under my feet the moment the architect pointed at me screaming like a madman. My breath caught in my chest and my whole body shook because it was happening again. Accusations. Humiliation. A crowd gathering. People staring at me like I was dirt.I raised my hands helplessly. I did not steal anything. I swear on my father’s life I did not steal a single dollar. My voice cracked but the architect only smirked in triumph as if my fear fed him.He marched toward me and before I even understood what he was doing he grabbed my arm and started touching me patting down my pockets, squeezing my sides, dragging his disgusting hands over my clothes as if I really hid thousands of dollars inside my skin.Stop I begged him my voice shaking. Please do not touch me.He laughed bitterly and loud. Why not he said. Everyone knows what you are. A poor church rat pretending to be important. Or a gold digging stripper who thinks she can fool men with h
Chapter SeventyElena’s POVI came out of the small bathroom, my hair still damp and curling down my shoulders, and took a deep breath. The scent of detergent and cement filled the air, sharp and grounding. I had cried enough. I was done being the weak one. I would work. I would design. I would make this restaurant the best in the city even if it killed me.Valerio had left my phone in the envelope that morning along with a note written in his cold, impatient handwriting. “Get to work.” Just those three words. No signature. No warmth. Still, it meant something. It meant he had not completely erased me.I sat at the long wooden table that served as my temporary office and powered the phone on. The screen blinked awake. For a long moment, I just stared at it. My reflection stared back in the glass. Then, I opened the browser.I searched for restaurant interiors across the world. I studied minimalist Italian cafes with open ceilings and marble floors. I studied Moroccan lounges with
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