The don’s obsession

~ Manhattan, New York. ~

"Get her! Don't let her escape."

Amara ran, tears streaming down her cheeks and running as quickly as her legs could take her. The men chased after her, eager to catch her and bring her back to their boss.

Amara took a deep breath, coming to a stop in front of a two way street, two way street, she didn't know which way to go from there. His men could be anywhere, he owned the city, every corner of the city.

"Where is she? Quickly split through the streets, let's find her." One of the men chasing after her said to the others loudly. He forged forward while the others split.

Amara realized there was no escape for her, she was out of breath and could not make it far enough to escape these predators.

While thinking, Amara spotted the ladies gym in front of her.

"Thank God." She whispered. The Mafia boss's men would be unable to enter there, although they owned the city, they barely showed themselves off to the world.

Amara made her way forward, eagerly stepping into the gym. If she survived this, then she would never in her life return back to Manhattan, ever again.

She could only escape the Mafia boss once in her life and so she vowed never ever to return back to that place, wiping the tears from her eyes.

~ Flashback Ends ~

"Miss? We are here..."

Amara but her lips, unable to help herself. She stared at her hands before staring at the driver, who looked at her like she was lost.

"Oops, I'm so sorry, I completely spaced out." Amara said flashing an embarrassed smile, her cheeks burned crimson as she stretched out her hands to hand over the money to him.

Paying off the taxi driver, Amara stepped down from the car and walked towards the huge building in front of her.

Trying her best not to give her identity away, Amara made sure the mask was properly tied behind her head, her usual blonde hair dyed black in hopes of appearing different.

She had promised herself never to return to Manhattan ever again, but fate would have it different as everything about her life was linked to this city, 'The cursed city.'

This city has taken everything away from her, her life, her father, her wealth, her sanity, everything that belonged to her, it robbed her of her identity as well.

From being the most sought after young barrister but being a girl with multiple identities working little jobs here and there to make ends meet.

"Welcome miss, please present your invitation card." The guard at the door asked, scanning her with an elusive gaze from head to toe.

Amara smiled and handed him her invitation card, well not hers, she had stolen it but that piece of information was not for the guards to hear. They didn't need to know it, they could as well figure it out but she knew they would not.

The guard read through the invitation and handed it back to her, "can I see your ID card Miss Vance?" The guard asked.

Amara opened her purse and brought out her ID card from it, well not hers, but again that was not the guard's business. It was her business, not the guard's.

On the ID, it read 'Mara Vance', Mara Vance was one of the biggest art curators in the city of Manhattan, and so the bodyguard eased up at seeing the ID.

He handed it back to her and waved his hand to clear her. He stepped aside and opened the door, letting her go in.

Amara gave him a charming smile, masking the panic in her eyes before stepping in. Phase 2 of her plan was done, she could only hope, she effectively made her way in and did what she came for before being noticed.

"I'm so sorry Mara, I'll make it up to you soon." Amara whispered to herself, pressing her lips together. Her friend would be mad at her but it was nothing she could not handle.

Stepping in was the hardest part, the hardest part was blending into the room without being noticed.

This was no ordinary gala, to the public eyes, it was masked as an art curation event for the wealthy men but in reality, this was one of the yearly masked balls hosted by the Mafia associates.

The mafia's who were deep rooted into the society, so carefully, not giving their identities away but yet still carrying out crimes, smuggling, drugs under the eyes of the people in the city.

Unfortunately, her father had been one of them before he had betrayed the Mafia, the Mafia had stripped everything off him, including his life leaving her alone and with nothing.

If the Don has a whiff of her presence in the mask ball, she would be as good as gone. Amara made sure to avoid the corners, carefully roping herself into the crowd.

.....

From above the hall, a young man stared down at the young woman working into the hall, her black long hair, the mask on her face. Just like the others, she meant nothing to him but something about her consciousness pinged his interest.

Damien Rossi, the don of the New York Mafia, the one who called the shots throughout the whole country, stood with intrigue, the wine he had just gulped down burning down his throat.

"Don, the Russian syndicate's just arrived at the entrance. Should we welcome them on your stead?" Damien's second in command asked, coming to stand behind Damien.

The people of the underworld had a hard time realizing who the new Don was after the old one dropped the title, although they knew it was the eldest son of the Rossi, no one could point to his exact look except a few people.

"How's the search for Amara Vale?" Damien asked, paying deaf eyes to his second in command.

"Boss, it's been six months. We completely lost our trail on her three days ago, but we are working on it."