Sold to the Mafia who ruined me

My eyes kept darting between the door and my phone, praying that he would walk in with some excuse about traffic, a last-minute business meeting, or anything. Just one text from him was all I needed to calm myself down at this point.

A notification buzzed from my phone.

My palms grew sweaty as I snatched the phone from the table, but it was only an article about some billionaire’s latest achievement. I locked my phone screen, because I couldn't care less.

Today was our third anniversary, and Liam was nowhere to be found.

My hands shook as I dialed his number again. And it went straight to voicemail for the fifth time. “Where the hell are you, Liam?”

I left money on the table and walked out, abandoning the reservation I’d booked weeks ago. What was the point without him?

I hailed a taxi and gave the driver Liam’s address.

The taxi ride was pure torture. I kept refreshing my messages like an idiot. But the screen remained empty.

When we pulled up outside his apartment, relief flooded through me the moment I saw his car parked in the driveway.

At least he was home, and that was all that mattered.

I paid the driver and stepped out, but then I noticed another car beside his.

A red Benz.

My knees weakened beneath me like they had a mind of their own. It looked exactly like the one my stepsister drove.

I stood there for a second, staring at it, trying to convince myself that it meant nothing.

Maybe she was visiting Liam’s sister.

Maybe I was just overthinking again.

I went to the front door and knocked. But there was no response.

“Liam?” I called softly. But there was still nothing, only silence.

I slid my hand into my handbag, searching for the spare key Liam had given me during our first Christmas together. “So you never have to wait outside,” he’d said with a smile.

After a few seconds, my fingers finally found the key beneath an old receipt and a lipstick I’d been meaning to throw away.

I unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside. That's when I saw it.

A bra hung carelessly over the shoe rack near the entrance.

I froze.

A part of me thought it should be Liam's sister's. Because she was always careless with her stuff when she visited.

But my instincts refused to buy the idea.

I took a few more steps inside, and that’s when I saw the heels.

They were expensive, red-bottom designer heels.

I recognized them immediately from my stepsister’s I*******m. She had posted them like a trophy after she'd convinced my stepmom to get it for her.

There was no way Liam’s sister could afford something like that. I’d helped her shop at Target before.

What if he wasn’t alone?

I stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, debating whether to turn around, and leave before I saw something I couldn’t forget.

But I didn’t move.

Because the other part of me always needed to know the truth, even when it hurt.

If I walked away now… I knew I would never forgive myself for not finding out what was really behind that door.

As I got closer to the door, I slowed down without intending to.

There was a sound from inside. The kind of sound that made my heart skip a beat. Not in a good way but a bad way.

“Ahhh…”

I stopped in my tracks.

My hand hovered near the door handle, but I didn’t touch it at all.

I told myself it could be anything. A movie. A video call.

But my instincts didn't buy it. Not one bit.

The sound came again, but it was lower this time.

My stomach dropped.

I pressed my fingers against the wall beside me, trying to steady myself.

I stayed there, unable to move forward… and unable to turn back.

Then a voice cut through the silence. It was sharp and familiar.

My stepsister, Clara.

“Do you think about her when you’re fucking me?” Clara purred.

Liam let out a low, breathless laugh. “Fuck no. I left her pathetic ass waiting at the restaurant just so I could bury myself in you.”

Clara moaned softly. “Then why are you still with her?”

“Because I need those shares from her father’s company. Once I have them… I’ll dump her boring ass.”

The spare key slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck was that?” Liam snapped.

Then I heard the rustling sound of the bedsheet. Then footsteps.

My palms grew slick with sweat. Almost immediately, I dropped to my knees, snatched the key from the wooden floor, and scrambled out. My hands shook so violently I could barely align the key, but somehow I forced it into the lock, and twisted it till it clicked, and ran.

I wandered down the street aimlessly under the pouring rain, my mind spinning.

My eyes burned. I didn’t even bother wiping my face.

I kept seeing everything like it was happening again.

And it wouldn’t just leave my head.

Every single memory came back without warning; Liam, the late-night talks, the game nights, the day he confessed years ago.

The weight of it all hit me so hard my knees buckled, and I collapsed right there onto the wet asphalt.

I didn't even try to get up; I just sat there, my hands planted on the freezing ground.

Then headlights appeared…low and fast.

A sports car.

It wasn't slowing down. I just stared at it, my hands still planted on the wet ground. I knew I should move. I even thought about it for a second.

But I didn’t. Not even an attempt.

The engine got louder and louder with each passing second. The lights shone brightly on the road.

I was still sitting there on the wet asphalt.

And the car kept coming..