The Price of the Mafia’s Test

The front door clicked open just as I put the gift list back.

Dante walked in, smelling of expensive tobacco, and collapsed onto the sofa next to me with his usual arrogant swagger.

"So you’re finally back," he said, lecturing me like a child. "Are you still throwing a fit because I didn't give you the cash? Learn from Nadia and grow up, Elena. You'll realize later it’s all for our future."

He looked so earnest, acting as if this was all pure, well-meaning love. But the real message was short and brutal: he needed to constantly test me to prove I wasn't after his money, just to see if I was worthy of his family.

He leaned in to hug me, but I slid away, completely dodging his arms.

Dante froze for a second, staring at his empty hands before glaring at me. To him, I was just throwing a childish tantrum over a petty $1,000.

"Stop acting out. I’m exhausted from work. Go make me some dinner," he commanded, instantly switching back to his mob-boss routine.

His attitude wasn't like this when he was chasing me five years ago. Back then, he pretended to be a broke office clerk buried under student loans and company debt.

"Elena, I have nothing, and I can't promise you a stable future," he had told me, looking completely sincere. "But we can work hard and build a life together."

Believing him, I had nodded. I was poor, but I could support myself. I chose Dante simply because I wanted to build a life from scratch with him.

But as time went on, his act slipped. He literally broke out in hives around cheap things, and he soon started treating me like a servant, demanding I do things he could easily do himself.

The truth finally clicked during my shift one day, when I saw him step out of a bulletproof limousine, surrounded by heavily armed bodyguards as he walked into an exclusive underground club. Our entire relationship was a lie. He had spent five years running a twisted test because he was terrified I was after his family's fortune.

Dante’s voice cut through my thoughts.

"If you want money in the future, just ask. Don't fake a car accident to extort cash from me," he sneered. "It ruins your character, and my family hates girls who act like that."

His words were a sick joke. Images flashed in my mind—the unbearable pain in my stomach, and the doctor coldly telling me my baby’s heart had stopped beating.

I was done explaining. I couldn't stand to look at him for another second.

Just as I stood up to leave, the front door opened again. Nadia walked in, slipping off her designer coat to reveal a tight, seductive dress. Seeing me, she feigned shock and hurriedly covered herself back up.

"Elena? What are you doing here?"

I looked coldly at Dante. "If I remember correctly, I co-rent this apartment with you. Why does a stranger have our security code and the right to barge in whenever she wants?"

Nadia instantly put on a victim act. She scurried over, sat right next to Dante, and clung to his arm.

"Dante, how can she call me a stranger? I just forgot my keys and needed a place to crash. Besides, if you hadn't agreed to co-rent this place, Elena would be sleeping on the streets. She can't afford this neighborhood. She's the one getting a free ride."

God knows how much poison she had whispered in his ear over the years. Dante saw absolutely nothing wrong with it. To him, Nadia made perfect sense.

"Nadia is right. I own a house. If I wasn't dating you, I wouldn't be wasting money splitting a cheap apartment just to accommodate you. It’s a total ripoff," Dante said, pulling out his phone and shoving his banking screen into my face.

"You don't want my family to think you're a gold-digger, do you? Then pay me back for my half of the rent over the last five years."