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Chapter 58: Allison’s POV: In Between Two Men.
Last Updated:
2025-01-27 23:08:57
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 59: The Danger of Secrets.
His piercing gaze froze me, his imposing frame dominating the room.“You want the truth, Dontrell?” I demanded, stepping closer.“Here it is: I’ve been lonely. Lonely because my husband, the man who swore to cherish and protect me, is barely ever here. And the one time I try to do something for myself—stretching, doing yoga, taking care of myself—you barge in, accusing me of something? It’s pathetic.” His jaw tightened, but I didn’t falter. “What exactly do you think you need to ‘handle,’ Dontrell? Because I’d love to know. Go on, tell me what your *situation* is.”I tilted my head, my tone dripping with challenge. “Am I the situation you need to ‘handle,’ Dontrell? Like one of your warehouse goods? Because that’s how you treat me—like something you own.”“Watch your tone, woman,” Dontrell warned, his voice low and steady.“Watch my tone?” I snapped, stepping closer. “How about you watch how you treat your wife? Dontrell flinched, his confidence wavering for just a moment. I smirked
Last Updated : 2025-01-28The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 60: The Room That Holds Me
The kitchen was a masterpiece of modern opulence—marble countertops gleamed under pendant lights that hung like crystals, the metallic sheen of state-of-the-art appliances reflecting the morning light spilling through massive floor-to-ceiling windows. A center island stretched long enough to host a royal feast. But none of it fazed me. My thoughts were elsewhere.Dontrell. Last night. The file. Where had he gone? Did Andrew know? Were they together? Questions swirled relentlessly in my mind, gnawing at me, refusing to let go.I absentmindedly took a bite of the toast, but it was dry in my mouth. First simple meal in ages. Ever since I married, my mornings were filled with extravagant meals prepared by chefs determined to "fatten me up," whether here or at his father’s mansion. It was excessive, like everything else about my life now.I set the teacup down with a soft clink and reached for my purse on the counter. Pulling out my lipstick, I opened my compact powder case, its large mirro
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I scanned the document. My name is elegantly written. Below, a star circled in red on a map of the night sky.I blinked, breath catching. “You bought me a star?” I couldn’t believe it. My chest tightened with surprise.“Not just any star," Dontrell said, stepping closer, his heat enveloping me. "The brightest in the Scorpius constellation. Every night when you look up, you'll know a part of the universe is yours—and so am I." His fingers brushed my wrist gently. His words hit me like a wave, stealing my breath. It was so absurdly romantic, so painfully perfect. Overcome, I threw myself into his arms.He caught me mid-air, arms locking around me effortlessly, holding me against his chest like I belonged there. I stayed wrapped in him, fingers curling into the back of his shirt, breathing him in. My voice shook as I whispered against his skin, “I never knew a man like you was capable of loving me like this.” His hold on me tightened. “You don’t know one-tenth of what I’m capable of d
Last Updated : 2025-01-29The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 62 – A Storm Unleashed
The heat inside me built like a raging storm, ready to shatter. My chest heaved, my breathing haggard and uneven as I stared at Dontrell. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. Elias? He was coming to stay?The words rang in my ears like a cruel joke. A dizzying rush of fury and disbelief crashed through me, I began to boil. I pushed Dontrell—hard—my hands slamming into his chest. But the impact didn’t move him. He barely shifted. He just stood there, rigid, his towering frame unshaken. That only made me angrier. I jumped off the table, the wooden edge scraping against my thighs as I landed beside him. Hate brewing in me.I turned on my heel to leave, but his grip caught me fast.“Let me go,” I snapped, jerking against his grip, slapping at his hand with my free one. He didn’t budge. “Allison, calm down.” His voice was firm, but he didn’t release me. I struggled harder, wrestling against his grip, but he caught my other wrist too, spinning me to face him. “Y
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I leaned back into the leather of the executive chair in my home office, the second-floor room sprawling in front of me, its polished wood floors reflecting the dim light from the chandelier above. The walls were adorned with dark, expensive art pieces, and shelves lined with books on strategy, business, and war. The heavy mahogany desk in front of me had papers scattered carelessly, evidence of a mind too occupied with thoughts to care for order. My shirt was ruined, paint dripping from my chest, but the discomfort of the mess on my body was nothing compared to the ache gnawing at my chest. The emptiness from Allison’s absence gnawing at my insides.Her words replayed in my mind, sharp as ever: "I need time away from you. From your face. From everything that has to do with you."I ran my hand over my face, trying to shove the storm of thoughts back. But they wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t shake the image of her walking away. That door slammed shut. It felt like she slammed it on everythi
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Tension thickened the air Carter sat across from me, his overconfident stare grating on my nerves. I’d already told him no. Yet here we were, in this private VIP lounge, whiskey in hand, fingers drumming against it. I didn’t care about his offers or his money. I had a thousand things to handle and no time for the Circle’s policies, especially now when I needed to focus on how to keep Allison alive. But they’d forced my hand. If Carter played his cards right with this deal, he'd survive, but if not, my dad would bury him.Andrew sat to my right, unreadable as always. He'd checked Carter out but found nothing too—just another sick billionaire’s son trying to make a name. But I could see it in his eyes—he didn’t trust the guy, though he couldn’t pin down why.“I knew you’d come around once you saw what I had to offer,” Carter said smoothly, flashing a grin. His sky-blue suit was way too much, and of everything he could use, he chose a red bow tie. Ridiculous.I barely glanced at him, irr
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Carter stared at the document in his hands, his grip tightening with every second. His gaze flicked to Andrew, searching for some sign that this was a joke. But Andrew wasn’t the joking type. “Why doesn’t Dontrell want them?” Carter asked, his voice betraying a hint of unease.Andrew scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Because merging them with his crew means bringing in men he doesn’t trust. Dontrell already has his empire running here. He’s got his cartel. But the Circle wants him to take over. They want him as the Regent." Andrew leaned in. "He won’t do it. He’s not interested in leading those men."Carter shifted, swallowing hard. He stared at the papers again, processing the weight of the matter. Andrew’s patience snapped. "You ask too many questions," he said, his voice edged with irritation. "You don’t want the deal? Say it now. You’re wasting my time. Dontrell could pick any trained bastards off the streets, and they’d take the position in a second."
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Carter swallowed hard, nodding.I released his hand. "The next Confraternity meeting is soon. I could get you in." My gaze locked onto his. "Impress me by then, or you're out—no second chances. That document has everything—the Circle, the top dogs, their history. Read it. Fast."“Yes, Don,” Carter answered, swallowing hard.I leaned in, towering over him despite the table between us. “Andrew ran a background check on you. Says you’ve been here longer than you claim.” Carter stiffened. "Carter stiffened. 'Yeah, back then, I wasn’t in business. Just vacations, fun. But when I saw what this city offered—money, power, respect—I stayed."I chuckled, unimpressed. “I don’t care what you did before. What matters now is everything the Graves do—every deal, every mistake—gets reported to me. Every detail.”I laid it out. “60% of whatever they make goes to their upkeep, weapons, hideouts, and others. The rest is yours." I meant what I said—I don’t need your money. What I need is for the Circle
Last Updated : 2025-02-02
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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—
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 180: Leaving His Cock, Chasing Fire.
“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
