UNDER THE MAFIA DON'S GAZE

SELENE'S POV I thought I knew everything about Amaya. After our five years of friendship, you’d think there would be no secrets left between us. We’d shared dorm rooms, heartbreaks, cheap bottles of wine, and every ridiculous dream we could spin up at three in the morning. But she had never, not once, mentioned her father. So when she leaned across our café table one Saturday morning and said, “Come home with me this weekend. Papa wants to meet you,” I nearly spilled my coffee. “Your father?” I blinked. “You mean the mysterious man who apparently doesn’t exist?” Amaya only laughed, eyes sparkling like she enjoyed how off-balance I was. “He exists. He just… likes his privacy. But he’s been asking about you. I want you to meet him.” That’s how I ended up in the backseat of a sleek black car days later, staring wide-eyed as it rolled through iron gates taller than any building on my street. The driveway stretched forever, lined with lamps and roses that looked imported from anothe

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the dining room, catching on silverware so polished I could see my reflection. The long mahogany table was already set with more food than I’d seen in one place outside of a wedding. Fresh bread, fruit, eggs, smoked meats. It should have smelled comforting. Instead, my stomach twisted with unease. Amaya sat across from me, already stabbing at her food like it had personally offended her. Don Mario sat at the head of the table, composed as ever, reading a paper with one hand, a glass of dark coffee in the other. And then Jenny walked in. She didn’t knock, didn’t greet anyone, just glided into the room in a silk robe that left very little to the imagination, her blonde hair gleaming like she had stepped straight out of a magazine cover. “Morning, darling,” she purred, leaning down to press a kiss against Don Mario’s cheek, lingering longer than necessary. Amaya’s fork clattered against her plate. “Jenny,” she said fl

I woke up the next morning to the scrape of heavy boots against the floor. For a moment, half-asleep, I thought I was dreaming. Then came the thud of boxes, the low rumble of men’s voices, and I bolted upright in bed.My apartment door was wide open. Strangers in dark suits moved in and out lifting my things piece by piece — the chipped lamp from the bedside table, the books stacked by the wall, even the worn rug my mother had given me when I first moved here.“What the hell are you doing?” My voice came out hoarse, sharp with panic.One of the men glanced at me, unbothered. He had a square jaw, earpiece tucked neatly under his collar. “Orders,” he said simply.“Orders?” My heart slammed. “From who?”He didn’t answer.I already knew.I rushed forward, grabbing for one of the boxes, but another guard blocked me with one arm, firmly but gently, like he was swatting away a child. “Please stand back, miss,” he said. His politeness made it worse.“This is my home!” My voice cracked, helpl

The car rolled to a stop before I even realized where we were. The guard opened the door, and I stepped out into a place that looked like it belonged in a dream, or a movie meant to tempt you into believing paradise was real.A pathway stretched before me, lit by a trail of flickering candles, each flame soft and golden against the night. Roses were scattered along the ground, fresh petals in deep crimson and blush pink, a carpet of luxury leading me somewhere I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. At the far end of the path, Don Mario stood waiting.He wasn’t in a suit this time — not the heavy armor of black wool he usually wore — but something more understated. A dark shirt unbuttoned at the throat, the sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing strong wrists, veins like rivers beneath skin. The casualness made him even more dangerous. I forced my legs forward, one step, then another, my heels pressing petals into the earth. The candles hissed quietly in the breeze, their glow dancing acros

AMAYA'S POVI called Selene again five times, but no answer. By the sixth, my messages weren’t even delivered. It wasn’t like her. Normally she’d pick up even if it was to tell me she was busy, or at least text back with one of her little excuses. But this long silence for days was heavy, it wasn't just her. Something felt wrong.I sat in my car outside her apartment for a long time, staring at the newly tinted windows, it looked like a new tenant had occupied the space.I was so confused. So, I drove to the hospital.Her mother had been sick for months. If Selene wasn’t talking to me, maybe she was there. At least I could check in on her mum, see if she needed anything. It was the only lead I had left.When I reached her usual room, though, it was empty. The bed sheets were fresh, pulled tight, like no one had been there in days.Confused, I turned to a nurse passing by. “Excuse me, the patient who was in this room, Mrs. Evelyn Hart. Do you know where she’s been moved to?”The nurse