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Mafia's Heir
Mafia's Heir
ผู้แต่ง: Ella Mahmud

Chapter 1 – The Quiet Before the Storm

ผู้เขียน: Ella Mahmud
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2025-09-28 22:07:13

The rain had been falling since the afternoon, soft at first, then harder as night crept in, drumming against the tin roof like impatient fingers.

Elena Marquez stood outside the little wooden door of their home for a second, her hand on the knob, breathing in the wet air before stepping inside. The small house was warm and dimly lit, the yellow glow of a single bulb flickering slightly as though tired from staying on too long.

The smell hit her first — fried plantains and onions, the kind of smell that reminded her of home even on the worst days. She dropped her worn shoes by the mat and let her wet hair fall from its clip, running her fingers through it to loosen the tangles.

In the kitchen, her little brother Marco sat at their wobbly wooden table, his chin resting on one hand, his pencil clutched in the other as he frowned at his math homework. He was twelve, lanky, and always losing his socks.

“You’re late,” Marco said without looking up, his pencil tapping against the page in rhythm with the rain outside.

Elena hung her coat on the chair and gave him a tired smile. “I know. The shop was quiet today, and I waited to see if we’d get one last customer.”

“That means no money again, right?”

His voice was so matter-of-fact that it made her chest ache. She hated that he was getting used to disappointment.

“Enough,” their mother said gently from the stove, where she was turning the last few plantains in the pan. Her face looked older tonight, tired lines tracing the corners of her eyes, but she still wore that soft, determined smile Elena loved. “Come, mija. Eat first before you worry about the world.”

Elena sat down at the table, pulling the plate her mother had set in front of her closer. The food was warm, the plantains golden and sweet, the beans thick and seasoned with garlic and salt. Her stomach rumbled, but there was a knot in her throat that made it hard to swallow.

“Did anyone come by today?” she asked softly.

Her mother didn’t answer right away. She just wiped her hands on her apron and leaned against the counter. “No. But they will.”

Elena’s fingers tightened around her fork.

Marco looked up now, his dark brows drawn together. “Are those men coming back?”

Elena forced her lips into something like a smile. “Not if I can help it.”

But the truth sat heavily in her chest.

The last time they had come, she’d hidden Marco in the back room, her hands shaking as she told him not to make a sound. She still remembered the way the man’s ring tapped against the counter, slow and deliberate, as he reminded her that her father’s debt didn’t just vanish when he died.

Her mother noticed her silence and reached across the table, her hand warm as it covered Elena’s. “We’ll find a way,” she whispered. “Your father would have—”

The words stopped there, like they always did. His name was too heavy to say aloud tonight.

The three of them were quiet for a moment. The only sounds were the rain, the soft creak of the house settling, and the faint hum of the old radio in the corner playing some sad, slow song.

Marco broke the silence first. “I hate them,” he muttered, stabbing his pencil into the paper.

Elena’s heart squeezed. “Don’t say that.”

“I do,” he said stubbornly. “If Dad was here, he’d never let them scare us.”

Her throat burned. She reached across the table and ruffled his hair. “You let me worry about them, okay? You just finished your homework.”

He grumbled under his breath but bent over his notebook again.

Elena forced herself to eat, even though her mind wasn’t on the food. Every bite tasted like worry. The bills were still hidden in the kitchen drawer, waiting for her to open them again tonight and wonder how on earth she was going to pay.

Outside, thunder rumbled low, like a warning.

Elena looked at her brother, at her mother’s tired face, at the familiar kitchen they had fought so hard to keep — and felt a shiver run through her.

Something was coming.

She didn’t know what, or when, but she could feel it.

And somehow, deep down, she knew life would not stay quiet much longer.

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  • Mafia's Heir   Chapter 12 – The Morning After

    The rain had stopped, but its memory lingered — the streets outside glistening silver under the pale morning sun. Elena woke to the faint hum of distant voices and the smell of fresh coffee. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the room she was in. The ceiling was too high, the sheets too soft, the silence too heavy. Then it all came rushing back. The contract. The pen. Adrien D’Angelo’s eyes were watching her as she signed her freedom away. She sat up slowly, clutching the silk sheets against her chest. Her throat was dry, her heart pounding like she’d run a marathon in her sleep. Across the room, a maid was quietly arranging clothes on a wooden stand — all perfectly folded, neatly pressed. When the woman noticed her, she bowed slightly. “Good morning, Mrs. D’Angelo.” Elena froze. The name hit her like a slap. “Don’t call me that,” she said before she could stop herself. The maid’s eyes widened. “ I-I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr. D’Angelo said—” “Just… call me Elena,” she muttered, pul

  • Mafia's Heir   Chapter 11 – The Choice at Midnight

    The rain hadn’t stopped all night.It lashed against the windows like a relentless reminder of everything she couldn’t escape.Elena sat on the edge of her bed, still dressed in the same clothes she’d worn to Adrien’s mansion. Her hair clung to her neck, damp from the walk home. The clock on the wall ticked louder than her own heartbeat — every second pulling her closer to midnight.Her mother slept in the next room, breathing softly. That sound had always calmed her. But tonight, it only made the panic worse. Because Elena knew the man she’d faced earlier — the one with eyes colder than winter — never made idle threats.Adrien D’Angelo didn’t bluff. He acted.She clenched her fists, staring at the small note Matteo had slipped into her hand as she left the mansion.It was a name. A lawyer. A time. A location.“Sign before midnight.”That was all it said.She swallowed hard, pacing the room. Every instinct screamed at her to run — to grab her mother, to vanish before the D’Angelo fami

  • Mafia's Heir   Chapter 10 – Fire Beneath the Ice

    The car rolled to a slow stop in front of the massive wrought-iron gates. Rain drizzled lightly, streaking the tinted windows as Elena peered out. The mansion loomed beyond the gates, dark and commanding against the misty skyline. It wasn’t just a house—it was a statement. Every inch of it screamed power and danger.The driver stepped out without a word and opened her door. She hesitated before taking his gloved hand. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, the same rhythm it had taken on every time she remembered the name Adrien.As the gates opened and the car disappeared behind her, she walked slowly up the path lined with old stone lanterns. The mansion’s doors opened before she could knock. Inside stood a man she hadn’t seen in weeks—Adrien’s right hand, Matteo.“Elena,” Matteo greeted, his tone polite but guarded. “The boss is waiting.”Her throat tightened. “Waiting?”He only nodded and turned, leading her through the wide hallway. The marble floors gleamed, and portraits of sharp

  • Mafia's Heir   Chapter 9 – The Last Morning

    The sun rose too early.Its golden light spilled through Elena’s thin curtains, brushing against her face, too gentle for the kind of day it was.She lay awake long before dawn, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had abandoned her hours ago, leaving her alone with the echo of Adrien’s words.“You belong to me.”She could still hear the cold authority in his voice, still feel the sting of his gaze as he watched her sign her life away.Now, as morning slipped quietly into her room, the weight of what she had done pressed against her chest so hard she could barely breathe.She had agreed to marry a man she barely knew.A man she hated.A man who terrified her.And she had done it for love — not for him, but for her mother and brother.The thought burned.She sat up slowly, her hair a tangle, her eyes raw and tired. Her room looked the same — the books she’d left stacked by her bedside, the photos pinned to the wall, the old ceramic mug her brother had painted for her last Christmas — yet ever

  • Mafia's Heir   Chapter 8 – The Contract

    The clock ticked mercilessly.Every second stretched, pressing down on Elena’s chest as if the house itself wanted to suffocate her. She hadn’t slept. Not a wink. The contract still sat on her desk, its black words carved into her mind like scars.She had read it ten times, twenty times, hoping she had missed some clause, some loophole, some tiny crack through which she could escape. But there was nothing. It was simple, brutal, and final.Six months. One year. Marry Adrien D’Angelo. Or watch your family fall apart.Her head ached. Her hands trembled. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to keep herself together.“Elena?”Her mother’s voice floated through the door.“Yes?”“Someone is here for you.”Her heart skipped. She didn’t need to ask who. She already knew.Her feet dragged her down the stairs. Standing in the entryway was Nico again, leaning against the doorframe as if it were his own house. His smirk widened when he saw her.“The boss wants to see you,” he said smoothly.

  • Mafia's Heir   Chapter 7 – Shadows Closing In

    Morning came far too quickly.Elena awoke with a start, heart pounding, sweat clinging to her skin as fragments of her dream slipped through her fingers like smoke. Adrien’s voice had haunted her all night, his eyes as cold and sharp as steel. She sat up slowly, her head heavy, her gaze falling on the folder still on her desk.It hadn’t moved. It hadn’t opened itself. But it may as well have.Because even in silence, it screamed at her.A knock came at her door. Soft. Hesitant. Her mother’s voice followed.“Elena? Breakfast is ready.”Her throat was too tight to answer, but she forced a quiet, “Coming.” She splashed water on her face, braided her hair quickly, and came to the kitchen.The smell of warm bread and eggs filled the air, but she had no appetite. Her little brother, Mateo, was already at the table, kicking his legs against the chair, grinning at her like nothing in the world was wrong.“Morning, Lena!” He pushed the plate toward her. “Mama made your favorite.”Her chest ach

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