Semua Bab Mafia’s Girlfriend: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Chapter Two: The Devil's Lair Lena's POV The room was a far cry from the grandeur of the mansion's exterior. Small, cold, and suffocating, it felt more like a prison cell than a bedroom. A single dim light bulb hung from the ceiling, flickering intermittently and casting eerie shadows that danced on the cracked, peeling walls. This was only a thin, lumpy mattress laid on a rusted metal frame with scratchy, threadbare sheets. The air was thick with damp and a metallic tang I couldn't place. I sat on the edge of the bed, drawing my knees up and hugging them to myself, trying in vain to still the relentless shaking that had seized my body. My mind was reeling with questions, one more unbelievable than the other. Why am I here? What does Damian want from me? How did my life spiral into this nightmare? The sound of footsteps down the hall yanked me out of my spiraling thoughts. My heart rammed into high speed, my body tensed, as the heavy wooden door creaked open. A hulking figure- one

Chapter Four: Confrontation Damian's Perspective The muffled murmurs of voices made their presence known as I walked down the dark corridor toward Sophia's room, a cacophony marring the night silence of the mansion. The door stood open but a crack, an invitation of sorts. I stopped for a moment, gritted my teeth, expecting chaos but finding myself unprepared for what was to come. Entering, the sumptuous décor of the room did little to mask the tangible tension in the air. Sophia stood erect beside the grand four-poster bed, her body tense, arms crossed over her chest in an imperious display of authority. Her eyes, hard and unforgiving, rested on Lena, who sat on her knees submissively beside an ornate laundry basket. The image evoked an anger within me, clenching deep within my chest. "Get it together," Sophia's voice cut through the silence, thick with malice. "You're here to serve, aren't you? Then do it properly." My hands clenched at my sides, the knuckles whitening under the

Chapter Six: Weakness Lena's Pov The interior of the car was as silent as it could get, the kind of silence that amplifies every unspoken word and unshed tear. My hand still tingled from where Damian had gripped it, pulling me away from Sophia's house with an urgency that left no room for questions. Now, it lay motionless in my lap, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside me. I couldn't tell if the trembling was from residual reaction of the confrontation or from the thick tension that wafted from Damian. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles fluttered beneath his skin, and his hands gripped the steering wheel with such force I feared it might snap under the pressure. His gaze was fixed on the road ahead, eyes narrowed as if the asphalt had personally offended him. The intensity of his demeanor made me shrink back into my seat-a futile attempt at creating distance in the confined space. I wanted to break the silence, to ask him about the men who had appeared

Lena's POV Mara came at noon precisely. I heard her before I saw her-a gentle rap at the door, unhurried, and then a small, compact woman in her mid-fifties with hair like a silver-streaked bird’s nest pulled back from her face and the sort of calm competence in her movements that signaled she had been doing whatever this was for a long time. She was carrying a tray: soup, bread, a tiny teapot. She placed it on the writing desk without fuss, straightened once, and looked at me. Her eyes were warm, and that more than anything else that had happened to me since arriving had surprised me. "You must be Lena," she said. "That's me." She nodded, as though verifying something she had already known. "I'm Mara. I keep the house." She said it simply, with no art to it, no pride. Fact. "He mentioned you." "He mentions very little." She drew the chair away from the desk and nudged it toward me with her toe, as though for an unwilling child. "Sit down. Eat while it's warm." I sat, becaus

Chapter 10 Lena's POV They arrived in the afternoon. Three men; suits sharp, faces arranged into the studied blankness that comes from knowing that emotions can be liabilities. I heard them before I saw them, voices in the main hall, low and businesslike, the kind of conversation one has with people who have skipped all preliminaries. I was sitting in the sitting room with a book that I hadn’t opened and remained perfectly still. Mara appeared in the doorway moments later. "He wants you in the drawing room," she whispered. I put down the book. "Why?" Her eyes told me she knew more than she was sharing. "Because he asked for you." The drawing room was more imposing than the informal rooms that I'd been shown – high ceilings, dark paneling, furniture arranged with the unhurried confidence of a room that's made for display. The three men stood in a loose cluster near the window. Damian stood apart, nearer the fireplace, his hands thrust into his pockets. He looked at me w