All Chapters of Trapped by the Mafia Boss : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

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

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

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

SYLVIA’S POVI was dressed in a black gown that barely counted as a dress. It stopped just under my ass, tight around my hips like it was stitched on, and the back? Wide open. My spine felt like it was out in the cold, fully exposed. I looked in the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back.This wasn’t me. Not really.But it had to be, at least for tonight.Outside, the air was cool and breezy, not too harsh but enough to remind me I didn’t belong in something this short, this tight, this… desperate. I was shivering, and not just from the cold.“Let’s go over the rules again,” Diana said, reaching out to fix my hair. She smelled like cinnamon and cheap perfume. “Ass-grabbing is allowed. If someone touches your boobs, you can push their hands away, but nicely. No punching. And please, Sylvia, try not to look like someone dragged you here at gunpoint.”I let out a dry laugh and nodded.Diana had on a red vinyl two-piece and heels that could stab a man. She looked like she belo

SYLVIA'S POV I hesitated, heart hammering against my ribs. My hands were cold. I still felt the man from earlier, the one who shoved money up my thigh.I nodded once, gave Trisha a weak smile, and walked toward the stairs.My legs were shaky. Every step made my heels wobble. I passed girls in lace and silk, a few men who tried to grab my hand or whisper something filthy, but I kept my head down.Room 5.I stood in front of it for a long time, contemplating whether to turn back, and get out of here, then lifted my hand and knocked once.No response.I turned the knob, it wasn’t locked.Inside, the room was warm and dim, with low golden lights and a deep red velvet chair in the corner, turned toward the window.“Lock the door,” a voice said. Calm. Clear. Not loud, but commanding enough that I did it without question.I turned the lock, swallowing hard, and turned to face him.He was young.Maybe late twenties, early thirties. Hair swept back neatly, dressed in a dark button-down, sleev