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 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
Chapter Sixty NineElena’s POVValerio did not flinch. His gaze held on me for a single breath, unreadable, then he turned away. No reaction and no question and no acknowledgment. I could not decide which was worse, a storm or emptiness. He walked toward his car with calm steps like he had not just heard that men had put their hands on my father.I tried to say his name but the sound died in my throat. He did not turn. Tommaso’s eyes met mine with a flicker of something that looked like pity, then it was gone. Valerio slid into the back seat. The door closed. The fleet rolled away and their tires left a smear of dust that felt like a sentence.I stood alone and held the abaya tight and finally let myself break. The tears were hot and reckless and tasted like salt and shame. When they were spent I breathed slow and counted to ten and told my heart to move. Crying would not buy time. Crying would not stop pain. I needed a plan, and if he would not give me one I would make my own.I deci
Chapter Sixty-EightElena’s POVSandra blinked at me as if she was dreaming, then suddenly gasped and ran toward me, nearly tripping over her own feet. Her arms crashed around me, tight and shaking.“Oh my God! You’re alive—Elena, where have you been?” she sobbed. “I thought—I thought—something horrible—”I almost laughed. After everything, seeing her crying felt unreal.“Relax, I’m pretty hard to kill,” I muttered, half joking, half crying into her shoulder. Her warmth pulled the last thread holding me together and I clung to her like I’d been holding my breath for days.She pulled back, wiping her face, and her eyes widened when she finally processed my state—muddy abaya, sticky hair, tear-streaked face.“Jesus, Lena, did you bathe in a dumpster?”I snorted. “Pretty much.”Her gaze slid to Brian, who awkwardly stood a few steps back. He lifted his chin toward me in that quiet, composed way only he could.“Welcome back,” he said softly. “You need a shower. A long one.”Then, unexpect
Chapter Sixty SevenElena’s POVSophia stepped closer, her eyes dragging over me like I was a stain someone forgot to scrub off the sidewalk. She flicked her glossy hair and wrinkled her nose at my abaya, like the sight of me physically offended her.“This outfit looks like charity from a blind beggar. You’re trash, Elena. Actual trash.”Lucas leaned his elbow lazily against the car window, grinning like a demon ready for mischief.“Relax, Sophia. I’ll call her if my boys need a midnight booty call. Desperate strays always know how to entertain. Might be the only way she gets a real man, don’t you think?”Their laughter stabbed deep. My fingers tightened around the fabric at my sides, but I forced myself to look ahead. I refused to give them the satisfaction of breaking in front of them. One step forward, then another. Just keep walking.But the moment I turned away, Sophia’s voice sliced behind me.“I’m talking to you!”Before I could react, she flung her drink at me. Cold liquid spl
Chapter Sixty SixElena’s POVThe private jet felt too quiet this time sound and the atmosphere was highly tensedNot the soft rich-people kind of quiet but the kind that creeps beneath your skin and whispers that something enormous has shifted.I sat near the window, wrapped in the black abaya Valerio had thrown over me like I was something that needed covering.My fingers smoothed the fabric over and over, like the answers were hidden in the thread.The flight attendants moved around silently.The men whispered to each other.Valerio didn’t sit.He stood the whole flight hands behind his back, head dipped, muscles sharp beneath his shirt.He looked like a man drowning inside his thoughts.Once, his eyes flicked toward me.Just once.And what I saw there wasn’t softness… wasn’t anger…It was exhaustion.The kind that made men dangerous.I lowered my gaze before his could burn through me.When the jet finally touched down, the wheels screamed against the runway. The guards rose immediately.
Chapter Sixty FiveAlena’s POVThe desert night should have been quiet.But the walls around me hummed.Not from music…Not from voices…But from something deeper.A vibration in the bones.A warning in the blood.I lay on the gold-lined bed, eyes open, staring at a ceiling carved with moons and Arabic verses I couldn’t read. Every curve looked like a prayer.Or a threat.Valerio had left hours ago.Left me with food I couldn’t eat, water I barely touched, and a guard who refused to look me in the eye.I’d pretended to sleep.He didn’t care enough to check.The cameras did.A soft red light blinked in the corner.Watching.Breathing.Waiting.I sat up, hugging my knees. The shawl he’d wrapped around me earlier still carried his scent cigar smoke, oud, and something darker I couldn’t name.I hated how it calmed me.I hated how his presence still clung to my skin when he wasn’t here.I hated…that I didn’t hate him enough.The memory of his mouth on mine wild, consuming, terrifying flas
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