All Chapters of Trapped by the Mafia Boss : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Sylvia’s POVI looked from one brother to the other, my brain short-circuiting.What the hell kind of twisted family reunion was this?Before I could fully process the situation, Gerard yanked my hair, making me yelp. “It’s good to see you again, brother.”“What are you doing here, Gerard?” Mario’s voice was sharp, his whole body tense. “It’s been four years. What do you want?”Gerard let out a dramatic sigh, like Mario had personally wounded his feelings. “Is that how you welcome your big brother after all this time? Nasty, I must say. I heard you’re married now. Congratulations, I suppose.”He beamed—like he was some kind of friendly visitor instead of a full-blown psychopath—and then, to my absolute horror, he yanked me along as he walked toward Mario.“Let her go.” Mario’s voice was deadly calm, but I could see his fingers twitch. “We can talk elsewhere.”Gerard laughed—loud, carefree, like this was all just a joke to him. “You don’t have to be scared of me, brother. And your girl

Trigger Warning: This scene contains elements of sexual assault, which may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with caution.Sylvia’s POVI lingered in the office longer than I should have. Mario and Gerard had already left, but I stood there, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular, pretending I had business being there.Of course, I didn’t.I was stalling.And when the silence got too loud, I did what any rational person would do, I snooped around.My fingers trailed over the desk, pulling open drawers, flipping through papers. Nothing. The man was either annoyingly clean or he just didn’t trust leaving anything important in places people like me could reach.Fine.If his office had nothing, maybe his room would.I knew it was stupid, but I acted on it, slipping out and making my way up the stairs.Mario’s room was at the end of the hallway, and when I tried the handle, it opened easily.Not locked.Huh.Either he was stupidly confident no one would go through his

Sylvia’s POVI was still shaking.For the first time since this forced marriage, I wasn’t mad at Mario. How could I be? All I wanted to do was pull him into my arms and rock him like a child, as if that could undo the horrors he had survived.I had so many questions. So many things that didn’t make sense.How could one person go through that much and still be standing? And his mother—what kind of monster hands their own son over to be used like that?My own past with my brother had nearly destroyed me. But Mario? His was worse. So much worse. I couldn't even begin to imagine it. The hell of everything he had gone through.And now, after everything, he had finally let me see it—the filth, the scars, the rot inside him. And what had I done? Looked at him like a kicked dog.No wonder he shoved me away.I exhaled sharply, pushing the thought down. No time for self-pity. I needed answers. If there was a single shred of evidence left of the people who did this to him, I had to find it.Whic

Sylvia’s POVI woke up to warmth. An unfamiliar. It took a second for reality to catch up, for my brain to remember where I was.Mario’s room. No—my room.I blinked, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the light shade of lavender curtains. Beside me, Mario lay still, his breathing even, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist like he was scared I would run off.Last night’s conversation echoed in my head."Let’s just say I know a lot about you. Too much."My fingers curled into the sheets. How much did he really know? And how did he know it?I turned my head, watching him. Even in sleep, he looked guarded—jaw tight, brows furrowed like he was fighting something in his dreams. A part of me wanted to reach out, smooth the crease between his brows. But I didn’t.Because I didn’t trust him. Not fully.I moved slow. Careful. Inch by inch, I tried to pull away from Mario’s grip, but the second I did, his arm tightened around me. He mumbled something in his sleep, his voice

Sylvia’s POVI shut the door behind me, resisting the urge to throw something. The old maid had dragged me through the house like a misbehaving child, and I was still embarrassed.I couldn’t stop pacing. My thoughts circled like vultures, picking apart everything.Who owned the journal?Why was Mario so protective of it?Why did he react that way?I had pieces of a puzzle, but no clear picture. And worse, every time I thought I was getting closer to answers, someone came along and shoved me back.The doorknob turned.I froze.The door opened, and Gerard walked in.Not knocked. Walked in. Like he owned the place.I didn’t need to ask why he was here. His expression said it all—cold, unimpressed, like he was staring at something beneath him.“I should’ve known you’d start snooping,” he said, scoffing . “You can’t help yourself, can you?”I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the way my pulse picked up. “You always barge into people’s rooms, or am I just lucky?”He ignored that. Stepped cl