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Chapter 33: Between Fear and Reality.
Last Updated:
2025-01-11 22:53:46
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 34: The Calm before the Storm.
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.
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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
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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,
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The room felt suffocating, a prison of stale air and dread. Dr. James stood before me, the gun steady in his grip, his eyes cold and calculating. Pathetic,” he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Dragged into your husband’s mess, now you're just a target. Helpless. A lamb that thinks it's safe in a wolf’s den.”Panic surged; my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs. The cuffs cut into my skin as I thrashed, the tape burning my lips with every breath. Focus. Focus! My heart hammered, my mind racing with fear. Stay calm. Stay alive.He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so sharply that I gasped beneath the tape. Pain shot through my scalp as I looked up into his merciless eyes. “Love or money—doesn’t matter now. If you get out of this alive, file for divorce and leave that family,” he taunted, his grip tightening. “Do you even understand how many people’s fates are tied to your silence?” He let go abruptly, and my head dropped forward, the strain leaving my nec
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The lobby was now scanty, unlike earlier when eyes were everywhere. I sat there, my gaze locked on the clock above the receptionist's desk. Another minute ticked by. Then another. It had been over an hour now, and she still hadn’t returned. I shifted, not caring if anyone looked or spoke in hushed tones; my chest tightened with every passing second, but only because Allison was taking too long. I pulled out my phone and dialed Allison's number. One ring. Two rings. Straight to voicemail.I dialed again. Nothing."Something’s wrong," I muttered under my breath, rising from my seat. My mind raced as the thought began to solidify.I stood up, not even bothering to smooth out my jacket. I was done waiting. I marched straight to the nurse’s station, my impatience rising with every step.“Where’s Dr. James?” I snapped, leaning over the counter, my tone biting. “And why the hell hasn’t my wife come back yet?”The nurse blinked at me, startled. “Sir, please calm down. Dr. James is still in h
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I parked at the corner of Clifton Way and Robertson Boulevard, gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline. The late afternoon sunlight cut through the windshield, casting sharp shadows on the pavement. Though the clock ticked toward 4 p.m., the heat in my veins felt like the height of summer.My head slammed against the steering wheel as the incident replayed in my mind—Allison’s abandoned bag, Dr. James bound and bloodied, and the sound of her phone ringing like a cruel joke. I shot off a text to Fang, my fingers typing faster than they ever had.’Where are you? How much longer before you get here?’It had only been ten minutes since I texted him last, but it felt like an eternity. I knew he couldn’t fly in from San Diego, but damn it, my patience was thin. ‘Find every goddamn Nissan van in this city. Hack the cameras, the traffic systems—everything. Watch every damn road, especially around the hospital. If they’ve switched cars, track it. Flag anything suspicious. Do whatever it t
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I slammed the brakes, my thoughts racing. The shockwave from the explosion hit me like a tidal wave. My car jolted backward, every bone-rattling. But my mind was already several steps ahead. Allison. Was she in there? The thought of her, trapped in that chaos, ignited a rage that nearly consumed me."Fuck!" Andrew’s voice crackled through the radio. "Was that the warehouse?""Yes,” I snapped. “Get your fire extinguishers out. Get to work, but be careful.”There was no response—just static, the connection fading as the explosion's aftermath interfered with the frequency.“Get out of the car, now!” I shouted, not waiting for them to answer. “Stay low. Watch for landmines or any tucked bombs. They could be all around us.”I threw open my car’s door. Heat rushed at me like a wave. The flames danced like an angry beast, consuming everything remaining in the wrecked warehouse. The sky was smeared with orange and black, and the sound of metal cracking and wood collapsing filled the air.I du
Last Updated : 2025-01-15
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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
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 185: Epilogue – Allison’s POV — serenity.
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.
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 184: No More Lies, No More Masks. (Three weeks later)
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
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 183: I Choose You, Still.
"What are you doing here?" Clayton's voice cut through the silence. He stepped inside, his figure shadowing the doorway. "Why couldn't you stay in the living room downstairs, or at least stay in the fucking room? Why come here?"I didn’t flinch. I’d heard that bark before. Clayton Blade had always been a man of biting words. I stood there, tears wet on my face, paper clenched in my hand.I ignored his harsh words and the sting and asked, my voice trembling, "Did you mean this?" I held out the paper. "Did you mean everything you wrote here?”His jaw clenched, a muscle working beneath the skin. For a moment, I thought he might ignore me, walk away, or tell me I was being foolish. But instead, he scoffed and muttered, "You shouldn't be here.”That was all. He didn’t give me an answer. Just that damn, dismissive line—like none of it mattered. He wasn’t even looking at the paper. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking somewhere past me, somewhere I couldn’t follow.I couldn’t stand there
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 182: Allison’s POV: He Never Moved On.
I expected unease walking into this house again.The Blade mansion was eerily quiet, but it no longer frightened me. It had once been a fortress of fear, soaked in pain. With Mr. Blade gone, rotting in prison for even just a few months, breathing here felt a little easier.The heaviness that once clung to the estate had loosened.Clayton’s men stood like statues by his bedroom door, nodding as I walked past and went In. They didn’t question me. They didn’t need to. I belonged here once—even if only at night, in stolen moments, wearing guilt like perfume.The moment I entered, his scent hit me —musk, spice, leather. Familiar, maddening—uniquely him. My eyes scanned the room—the chair by the fireplace, the silk sheets, the broken lamp, the window chair. The whiskey decanter, heavy curtains, the bed—all the same.My chest tightened. I remembered the fortnight—when he hurt, took, and claimed me with blood.But I blinked it away.He wasn’t that man anymore—not in the end. Not lately. Clay
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 181: Clayton’s POV; sue came back.
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
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 179: Allison’s POV: wild thoughts.
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
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 178: Dontrell’s POV: They’ll All Burn.
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
