All Chapters of Trapped by the Mafia Boss : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Sylvia's POV That image was going to be burned into my mind forever, Mario in bed with another woman.It wasn’t just the sight of it. It was the way she was curled against him, the way the sheets barely covered her, the way he hadn’t even looked surprised to see me standing there.I didn’t know why it hurt so much. No, scratch that. I did know.He was my husband.The man I was forced to marry, yes. But still my husband.And yet, after rejecting me to my face yesterday, after looking at me like I was nothing, he had called another woman to his bed.Was I that ugly?I clenched my jaw, blinking rapidly as my vision blurred. No. No crying. Not over this.My body felt too hot, my skin too tight, and I needed to move.Before I could think twice, I was already walking. And then I broke into a run.Down the stairs. Out the front door. Away from that house and the suffocating weight pressing against my chest.The garden came into view, and I barely made it to a bench before my legs gave out b

Sylvia’s POVI exhaled slowly, staring at the door as if my mind alone could force it open. It didn’t move. Didn’t creak. Didn’t even have the decency to pretend it might give way if we pushed hard enough."We’re locked in," Isabel said, her voice a little too breathy, like she was trying not to panic.She rattled the handle again, pushing against the door with her shoulder this time. It didn’t budge. From the other side, there was nothing but silence, whoever locked us in was totally gone.Panic was eating at my stomach."We should look for another exit," I said, stepping away from the door. "There has to be one."Isabel hesitated. "Or we could just... stay here? Maybe they’ll open the door eventually."I gave her a look. "Yeah, sure. Let’s just sit down, hold hands, and hope for the best. Maybe they’ll even send snacks."She pursed her lips. "Okay, okay. No need to be mean about it."I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down my face as I paced in front of the door. This was bad. Worse

SYLVIA'S POVI don’t know how long I cried. Time blurred as I sat there, my back against the door, my arms wrapped around my knees. I hated the way I felt, how vulnerable I was. My eyes burned, my chest ached, but eventually, exhaustion won.I forced myself up and crawled into bed, my body heavy with weariness. Sleep pulled me under, but somewhere in the haze, I heard a knock. Distant.I couldn't bring myself to move.I let it go unanswered.By the time I woke up again, another knock echoed through the room. Groggy, I blinked at the clock—1 PM. Almost three hours had passed.Dragging myself out of bed, I rubbed my eyes and made my way to the door, yanking it open.No one was there.Just a package. And a bunch of lilac roses resting on top.I stared at them for a moment, my stomach twisting with unease. The hallway was empty, not a single soul lingering. I bent down, picked up the package, and shut my door.The scent of the flowers was soft, and sweet. But the moment I spotted the sma

Sylvia’s POVI should have been happy.I was getting my freedom, walking away from this mess of a marriage, and on top of that, I was leaving with a whole million dollars. No strings. No Mario. No fights.I should have been relieved. But I wasn’t.I stood there, arms wrapped around myself, an ache settling deep in my chest. Why did it hurt? Why did the thought of him letting me go so easily feel like a punch to the gut?A knock came, and before I could respond, the door swung open. Two of Mario’s men walked in, their faces blank, unreadable. They didn’t even glance at me as they went straight to my closet and started pulling everything out. Clothes, shoes, whatever they could grab, stuffing it into the suitcases without care.I just stood there, watching.The novels on my bedside table? Tossed in. The stuffed elephant? Thrown on top like it was just another object.When they zipped up the suitcases and turned to me, I already knew what was coming next."Mario has asked us to escort yo

Sylvia’s POVBy noon, my mother was gone. Every last piece of her clothing, every trace of her couch boyfriend, gone. The house felt hollow.For a moment, I just stood there, taking it in. The silence. The emptiness. The temporary calm before the storm.By 5 p.m., that storm arrived.The front door swung open with a loud thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of stumbling footsteps. The stench of alcohol hit me before I even saw him. My stepbrother. He barely looked at me before he stumbled into the kitchen, and after a while, stumbled back out."Why the hell is there no food? Where’s Mom?" he slurred, his words thick but still loud enough to grate on my nerves.I didn’t answer. I didn’t even look at him. Instead, I turned on my heel and made my way upstairs, shutting my door behind me and locking it.A few minutes later, the banging started."Sylvia!" His voice was an ugly mix of anger and intoxication. "Open this damn door!"I didn’t.Instead, I grabbed my headphones, shoved them