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Chapter 29: Dontrell's POV: Secrets Beneath the Night.
Dernière mise à jour:
2025-01-09 22:58:05
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The night was unnervingly quiet. I paced the bedroom, my mind tangled in unease. Dontrell hadn’t returned till now, and though I knew better than to ask him or worry, the nagging feeling in my chest wouldn’t subside.He kept his world closed off from mine, a barrier I couldn’t cross. But the distance didn’t stop my worry. What was he doing? Who was he meeting? Why did danger always seem to follow him?I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped onto the balcony, the cool breeze doing nothing to ease my racing thoughts. The city’s lights sparkled below, but I knew better—beneath the beauty was a world of danger and secrets, the kind Dontrell lived in every day."I stepped into the bedroom and into the bathroom to ease myself. Moments later, the front door creaked, and footsteps followed. I stayed calm but cautious, peeking through the bathroom door to see who it was.It was him.“Alison?” Dontrell’s voice broke the silence. His footsteps moved toward the balcony, his concern palpable.
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Dontrell’s gaze locked onto mine as he pulled me closer, kissing me deeply, his hands claiming my body with a possessiveness that made my heart race.I couldn’t deny the pull, even if my mind tried to fight it. My body betrayed me, leaning closer, wanting more.“Why are you always so damn beautiful?” He muttered, his rough voice sending a shiver down my spine.His lips burned a trail down my neck, pulling me closer as I moaned against his mouth, lost in the feeling of him.“God, you drive me insane,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot against my skin. “I can’t stop wanting you.”His kiss was slow at first, teasing, but quickly turned desperate. The cool metal of my necklace brushed against his fingertips as he trailed my skin.His hands slid down my ass, pressing me into him. His chest firm against mine, he moved me toward the bed, lips never leaving my skin, every touch burning into me.My hands roamed his chest, the muscles beneath his singlet driving me wild. I wanted to fe
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-01-10The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 32: The Breaking Point.
I heard her scream before I even had a chance to react, the sound piercing through the sexual tension we’d been caught in. The shock of it sent my body into full alert, my muscles tight, adrenaline flooding my veins as I sat up on the bed, my eyes darting to the balcony she pointed frantically toward.“What is it?” I asked, my voice sharp with concern. My desire still burned, but her fear cut through it.""Someone's on the balcony," she shouted, her voice trembling, grabbing the duvet and wrapping it around herself. Her chest heaved, face pale with terror.I shot up from the bed, the rage I’d felt a second ago gone in an instant, replaced by instinct. I rushed to the balcony, sliding the glass door open with force and stepping onto the cool, concrete floor.I scanned the darkness outside, my eyes darting, searching for any sign of movement. “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice cutting through the silence.Nothing. Just the faint rustle of the wind, the quiet of the night. I stretched
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-01-11The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 33: Between Fear and Reality.
Darkness stretched across the eerie hallways of my childhood school. I was sixteen again, running, breathless, my heart pounding. Someone in a mask was chasing me, their footsteps echoing menacingly behind me. I turned a corner and stumbled into a hallway. Silence. They were gone. My breathing was ragged as I scanned the walls, and my chest tightened at the sight plastered everywhere—the name *BLADE*, bold and suffocating, smeared on every surface. I glanced down and froze. I was wearing a top with Mr. Blade's face on it. The hallway door behind me slammed shut, and the walls began to close in, grinding closer and closer. I ran, my legs burning, but I couldn’t stop. If I fell, the closing walls would crush me. Ahead, I saw the door to the outside, light spilling through it like salvation.My mum stood there, her arms outstretched, beckoning me. Tears blurred my vision as I pushed harder, each step a battle. Just a few more strides, a final leap to safety... I jumped toward her, reach
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I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Where did he find it? Had he taken it off while I slept? Or had it been lying somewhere? How could I have been so careless?“Yes, that's what I was searching for,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. My heart hammered, but I kept my composure.“Well, your luck's in,” Dontrell said, tossing the bracelet in the air before catching it with his left hand. He stretched it toward me, eyes never leaving mine.I exhaled, relieved. "Thank God," I muttered, trying to brush it off. "I almost thought I lost it for good."“Nah, you didn’t lose it,” he replied, his tone calm but firm. “Remember when we rushed you to the hospital? I took it off to avoid losing another piece of your jewelry during the chaos. It slipped my mind until I found it in my pocket this morning.”I laughed softly, shaken by how he remembered everything. “Thanks," I said, but his gaze remained fixed on me, sharp and intense."So, what's with this bracelet?" he asked, his tone casual, but
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The words lingered, heavy as a storm cloud. Dontrell’s gaze never shifted, and for a moment, time slowed, the car engine humming in the silence. My fingers gripped the seatbelt, grounding me as my thoughts scattered, like a puzzle I couldn’t solve."Why ask that?" My voice was barely above a whisper, afraid to break the fragile calm between us.But even as I spoke, I knew the answer. And it terrified me."Sometimes, I think my dad’s eyes and ears are everywhere. I can feel his gaze even when he’s not around. I’m not scared for me, Allison. I escaped him for ten years in San Diego." His voice was steady, but the words carried something darker.“I’m scared for you.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “And now that I’m back here, I fear it might come to a point where I’ll have to choose between you and my family. Where I’ll have to do things I’d regret, just to protect you.”“I don’t get why he’s on your neck. You’ve kept your part of the deal, marrying me. It’s like he wants control of you.
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-01-12The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 36: Tears and Headlines.
The room buzzed with whispers, but I tuned everything out. My eyes were locked on the TV above the reception desk. The headline flashed boldly:“The Blades Heiress or a Pawn? Inside the Scandal of Allison Blackwell.”The accompanying text stabbed at me like a knife: “Marriage or a Cover for the Blades’ Secret Gay Lives?”Then the volume on the TV suddenly increased, cutting through the low murmurs. Now, every single word being said was audible. All eyes flicked to the screen, and the rest shifted toward me. The news anchor’s voice was sharp and cutting. "Rumors swirl around Dontrell Blade, hinting at possible impotence, while his younger brother, Clayton, is rumored to be infertile. These two brothers, among the wealthiest and most eligible men in Los Angeles, have sparked endless speculation. Both are over thirty, with no children or baby mamas in sight. Could they both be gay, hiding their truth in plain sight?"Her co-host chimed in, feigning concern. “I pity the young bride—poo
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-01-13The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 37: Cold Touch, Deadly Intentions.
Dr. James studied me with cold detachment, his gaze making my skin crawl.The tension in the room was palpable as I stepped forward, my heels clicking sharply against the sterile floor. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic. There were two doors, one to the left and one to the right, likely leading to a bathroom and a changing room. But my focus was fixed on him—Dr. James."Mrs. Blade?" His voice was smooth and authoritative, but too rough for someone with such captivating eyes. It felt out of place coming from him. "Please, have a seat.""Thank you," I replied, sitting down. I controlled my breathing, trying to suppress the fluttering unease his presence stirred in me.His gaze never left me. A small tattoo peeked out from beneath his shirt collar—strange for a doctor. I focused on his hands to avoid feeling his scrutiny.“I’m Dr. James. How are you today?” His tone was too professional, too cold. His eyes felt like they were piercing through me, seeing more than just my face.“Fine,
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-01-14
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She didn’t understand it and maybe she didn’t need to.Because she still saw the world in soft, redeemable tones. Even after what my father did. What Dontrell did. What I did.And maybe that’s why I fought so hard to deserve her. Because someone like her doesn’t end up in a life like mine by accident. She was chosen by fate—or cursed by it. Either way, I knew I’d burn down every version of this world before I let it take her from me again.I looked at my phone. The hospital report came in.Same condition. No progress. The nurses said Dontrell hadn’t spoken since; instead, he started having seizures often and often, and yet… I still sent money. Still made sure his room had sunlight. That his sheets were clean. That the men standing outside his door reported only to me.Because he was my brother.And that still meant something.I heard her voice behind me. “Again?”God, that voice. The way she could make one word feel like a thousand. She’d seen the worst of me—every bloodstain, every b
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I watched Clayton from across the rooftop garden as the breeze rustled the edges of his open shirt. The golden sunset flared behind him, but he didn’t look up. His gaze hovered on his phone, thumb paused over the screen, like whatever he was reading had pulled him somewhere far from me.“Again?” I asked, pitching my voice to be loud enough.He looked up slowly, locking eyes with me. That same determined gaze he wore when things got hard. When his emotions ran too deep to show.“Yes,” he said, voice low, firm. “I have to do it.”I crossed the space between us, barefoot, heart steady. “But you know you don’t owe him anything.”Clayton’s lips curved, soft and sad. “He’s my brother.”My heart ached for the way he said it. Not because it was a lie, but because it was true.Five years since the trial, since the feds shattered Dontrell’s empire. Clayton hadn’t run from the damage—he stood in it. Quietly, fiercely, with no cameras watching.He bought back every property the feds didn’t bury.
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I peeled off his suit jacket slowly, my fingers trailing over the dark silk. The tag glinted on the inside of his chest—*Godfather.* A title barely a few hours old, still hot from the Circle’s overnight meeting where he had been crowned.We were supposed to be at the Victory Gala right now—celebrating his hotel expansion in partnership with my new dance company. But we couldn’t wait—his mouth claimed mine the second the car door shut and his men stepped down. Instead of champagne and niceties, we were tangled up in the back seat of his car—completely unable to keep our hands off each other.His men stood like statues—guns, suits, dead stares. No one came close.Our mouths were locked. The windows fogged as we kissed like starved souls. His lips, greedy and sweet, erased the ruthless man crowned by the ‘CIRCLE’ just hours ago.“Congratulations, Godfather Clayton,” I whispered against his lips.He chuckled, dark and low, then kissed me harder. “Thank you, my queen.”I dragged my hand
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The moment the car door shut, the fake smile I wore at that goddamn charity dinner melted off like wax. My jaw clenched. I sighed, the night’s weight pressing down on me.I didn’t bother acknowledging my driver. He knew better than to speak when I was like this.I exhaled sharply and rolled my neck. The suit jacket was the first thing to go, then the cufflinks—ripped off and tossed beside me. Yanked my collar open just to breathe. The air felt thick—or maybe it was just me, choking on memories.Allison.God, her name still felt like a bruise on my chest.Told myself the damn event would distract me. But it never works. Not with her.I leaned back and closed my eyes. How did I get here? From hating her with every fibre in my body… to falling so deep I couldn’t see my way out?She used to sneak out of her ex-husband’s mansion—my brother’s house. She’d arrive in designer clothes and leave wearing my scent. Every visit started with a plan—some draft to catch Dontrell, some excuse to meet—
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“Fuck, that’s tight,” Reed groaned, thrusting in, his veiny hands spreading my thighs wide.The hotel room smelt like expensive cologne, clean sheets, and sex. Our brunch date was long forgotten.“Yeah, just like that,” my moans echoed off the suite’s walls. I clawed at his back, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust deep and smooth.Classic missionary. All on display. He kissed my jaw, strokes slow but hard, bouncing me into the bed.He slapped my breasts and drove in deep, pausing as I clenched before resuming with a wild rhythm. I moaned in response, throwing my head back like I meant it, nails raking down his back. He was giving it to me well—deep strokes, rough rhythm, the kind of pounding that made the bed slam against the wall. Reed had the stamina and the moves. His sinful voice matched the kisses trailing my breasts, sucking hard as his hips slammed into me.“You feel me, baby? You feel all this dick?” He whispered, lips brushing my titties.“Uh-huh,” I lied, grinding u
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Three months ago, my name blazed across headlines like blood on silk.“Allison Blade Finalises Divorce from Mafia Kingpin Dontrell Blade.”“Mafia Wife Walks Away: Allison Blade Now Legally Single.”“From Blackmail to Freedom—Inside the Fall of a Criminal Empire’s Queen.”“Single and Free: Allison Blade Cuts Ties with Comatose Crime Lord”I didn’t need to read the articles — didn’t need to. I’d lived it.The court declared Dontrell unfit for trial—permanently incapacitated, doctors said—vegetative. Alive, but unreachable. A man who once ruled with an iron grip now lay breathless under a sterile hospital light, surrounded by machines that did his living for him.Filing for divorce should’ve felt like a betrayal. Instead, it felt sweet.The day I filed, I didn’t cry. I walked into the courthouse, signed the petition, and told the clerk I was ready to leave hell behind. Two weeks later, a judge reviewed my case. They assigned Dontrell a guardian ad litem—some lawyer who never looked me
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I left my father’s house ten years ago and never looked back—even now, confined to a wheelchair, voiceless, motionless. I lived fully.My name would echo through generations— how I played my father and almost won if Celine's jealousy over my cover marriage to Allison hadn't ruined it.I left the house with nothing but a hunger for power—and I swore to claim it, whatever the cost. Father’s ways were too constricting. His empire was built on loyalty, fear, and respect, and I wanted it differently. I wanted more. I wanted total control. It wasn’t just the mansion, the power, or the empire I’d grown up with—it was the respect I was owed. I was the firstborn son, the one who was supposed to carry on his name. But instead, I was just another puppet in a game where he pulled the strings. I do all the work, and he gets all the glory. He leashed me and fed me scraps while he ruled as godfather. But I wasn’t some obedient little dog—that was Clayton. I envisioned power without him—without an
