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I hate you

Penulis: Funmilayo
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-06-28 23:47:11

SYLVIA’S POV

They made me wear something yellow today.

Said it made me look "friendly."

The blouse was tight, the sleeves itched, and the buttons refused to line up right.

We were outside now. Somewhere quieter. Near an old bookstore with broken windows and too many pigeons. No crowds. Just enough open space for a camera to catch the two of us walking, talking. Laughing, if I cooperated.

I didn’t speak.

The man beside me, James, I think he called himself... kept up the small talk like this was a Sunday date. He joked. Bragged. Asked if I’d ever been to Paris. I didn’t answer. I stared at the graffiti on the walls instead.

“You’re going to need to at least pretend, sweetheart,” he said under his breath. “We’ll cut the sound anyway, but the footage matters. You looking… soft. Compliant.”

I stopped walking.

“Can I fix my shoe?” I asked quietly.

He looked annoyed but waved me on.

I bent down slowly, pretending to fix the heel of my boot, and let my hair fall over my face. Just long enough
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  • Trapped by the Mafia Boss    To survive

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  • Trapped by the Mafia Boss    I won.

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  • 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

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  • Trapped by the Mafia Boss    I love you.

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