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2025-04-19 22:59:00
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Trapped by the Mafia Boss To survive
SYLVIA’S POVIt’s been nine months since I moved to the United Kingdom.Nine months of lying on my back some days, just watching the ceiling and wondering what exactly I was doing here.Nine months of waking up with pain in my side so sharp it made my toes curl. Of vomiting everything I ate. Of getting weaker and skinnier by the week.I was twenty-four. Twenty-fucking-four.No job. No money. No family. Just a crumpled medical report, an inflamed ovary, and a flat in East London where the heater barely worked and the walls were so thin I could hear Diana’s moans when she brought men home.Diana. My roommate. My savior. The only person who hadn’t walked out on me.She was standing in front of the mirror, lips parted slightly as she applied red lipstick like her life depended on it. Her dress was short, her hair flawless, her confidence effortless.A sex worker. She never hid it. Never flinched when she told me how much her last client paid her just to sit naked while he cried.“You’d be
Trapped by the Mafia Boss I won.
Mario's POVCourtrooms smell like sweat and desperation, too much of both, even when the air conditioning works.The first time I stepped into one as the defendant, wearing a wrinkled suit some cop handed me, the silence hit different. There’s nothing dignified about standing in front of a judge while your entire life’s on display like a rotting carcass. The prosecutors smiled like wolves. My lawyer wore his usual poker face. And I, Mario Santiago... just stood there, staring ahead, knowing every camera was on me.The courtroom was packed. Media, reporters, bored interns, and nosy civilians who came to watch a rich man fall.“Mario Santiago, you are hereby arraigned on charges of drug trafficking, possession with intent to distribute, three counts of murder, obstruction of justice, and conspiracy to commit multiple felonies…”I stopped listening halfway. I already knew what they’d say. I’d seen the charges. They were long enough to make a grown man cry.The prosecution asked for no ba
Trapped by the Mafia Boss Closing deals
Mario’s POV**12 days later**The days were beginning to blend in together.The silence in here? It’s different.It’s not the kind that just fills the room, it burrows into your skin, settles in your bones, makes your ears ring.I sat on the edge of the steel cot, one leg bouncing, jaw tight, wrists still sore from the cuffs they slapped on me like I was some street rat they scraped off a corner. Me. Mario Santiago.Once the man people bowed for. Now just another inmate with blood on his name.I heard the lock click before I saw him. My lawyer. Slick hair, polished shoes, thousand-dollar watch and a face that always looked like it was chewing on sour gum.He stepped in like he didn’t smell the piss-soaked cement or the ghosts lingering around this place.“Mario,” he greeted, too calm. That was his way. Calm, calculated, clinical. Like he was born in a courtroom.I didn’t speak. Just stared.He sat down across from me at the rusted metal table, opened his briefcase, slid a file across.
Trapped by the Mafia Boss In my gut
Sylvia’s POVI got the test results the next morning.The doctor’s words still echoed in my ears, loud and sharp, like glass breaking in an empty room.> “I’m sorry to inform you, Mrs. Santiago, but you’re not pregnant. We ran a second test just to be sure. What we did find is an ovarian tumor. It mimics pregnancy symptoms, it produces the same hormones, causes nausea, breast tenderness, even delays your period. But this isn’t a baby. It’s a tumor. The good news is we’ve caught it relatively early. But we need to begin treatment immediately.”I didn’t cry. I didn’t speak. I didn’t even ask questions. I just nodded, whispered a faint thank you, and walked out of the hospital like a ghost. Like a woman who had left her body behind in that sterile, white room.It was laughable, really. The irony. I’d been terrified of being pregnant, convinced my body had betrayed me again, and in a way, it had. Except this betrayal didn’t end in a child. It could end in death.What kind of sick joke was
Trapped by the Mafia Boss I love you.
SYLVIA’S POVEvery time I closed my eyes, I saw two pink lines. Five tests, all lined up like silent judges on my bathroom sink. Each one screaming the same thing.So that same morning, I booked an appointment at the hospital, not some pharmacy guesswork, but a real test. I needed something official. Something that wouldn’t let me keep pretending I could undo any of this.Surprisingly, they gave me a slot the same day. The receptionist’s tone shifted the moment I said my name. “Mario Santiago's wife,” I heard her whisper to someone in the background.They drew my blood. Asked a few questions. Told me to come back tomorrow for the results.That should’ve been the hardest part of my day. But it wasn’t.Because when I got back home, I found the envelope on the floor.Divorce papers.I didn’t cry. Not this time. I just signed where they told me to. One by one. Page after page. My hands didn’t even shake.And then I did something stupid.I booked an Uber to Mario’s office.To drop the pape
Trapped by the Mafia Boss Leave.
SYLVIA’S POVI didn’t sleep.My body had shut down the moment I walked through the door last night, but my mind refused to rest. It kept replaying everything, his voice, his kiss, the way he looked at me like he hated me and loved me at the same time.I had cried myself dry.But this morning… something felt different.I picked up my phone out of habit, half-expecting more hate comments, more headlines, more chaos.But the internet was quieter.And when I checked the first site that had hosted the video… it was gone.I blinked.Gone.Refreshed. Still gone.My heart started to race. I went to the next one. Gone too.Twitter, or whatever they called it now was still buzzing, but the tone had changed. My name wasn’t trending anymore. James was.I sat up straighter, eyes scanning the screen.> “That video felt forced. She looked uncomfortable. No one’s talking about that.”> “Wait, isn’t this the same James Jorge that covered up that accident in 2018? The one with the 9-year-old?”> “Y’all
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