Semua Bab Destroying The Mafia Boss : Bab 1 - Bab 10

"I love you, please. Please choose me,” I begged, clutching at his feet before I even realized I’d fallen to my knees. My voice broke, trembling like my entire world depended on that moment — and it did. Damon groaned in frustration, looking down at me like I was something he needed to scrape off his shoe. “Kaya… I’m getting married to your sister tomorrow. Look at you.” His eyes swept over me slowly, cruelly. “You’re fat, and you’re… ugly. Do you really think you deserve to be called my wife?” His words cut deeper than knives. I felt them slice through the last piece of pride I had left. But even as he kicked me away to free his leg, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. I couldn’t. I stared up at him — at the cold, beautiful face I loved so stupidly — and whispered, “I know you don’t mean that.” He sighed, turning away, but I reached for him again. My hands shook. “Damon, please… you chose me first. You told my papa you wanted me, not Cecilia. You said I made you feel alive. Ple

The room was clean and well-furnished. Too furnished to be a hospital room. It had that cold luxury that screamed power. I guessed it was meant for top clients—people like Damon Moretti. He sat up the moment I stepped in, eyes sharp, a gun pointed straight at me. Typical Damon. All cold, controlled, and heartless. Look at you. Fat and ugly. Do you think you deserve to be my wife? The memory stabbed me like a knife. He didn’t do love. He didn’t do emotions. But this time, I’d melt that ice in his veins. I’d make him love me—make him beg for me—and then I’d destroy him in the most gut-punching way possible. That’s what he’d get for marrying my sister, abandoning me in the hospital, and laughing at my pain. “Who are you?” he demanded, still pointing the gun at me. His gaze flickered down my body before he caught himself and looked away sharply. He asked again, his voice sharper. “Wrong room, Damon,” I said calmly and turned to leave. I heard the drip line snap and footste

June 3. I spent extra time on my skin that morning. My face was the one thing that still made me money, the one thing worth saving. My favorite serum smelled like citrus and success; I pressed it into my cheeks and tried to believe the mirror. I drove to the company thinking about Mr. Adams and the last time I’d been there. He could fire me today and I’d be ready to drag him through the mud. I parked, stepped out, and felt someone move up behind me in an instant — a hand pressed a handkerchief over my nose and mouth. I couldn’t fight; the room tilted, my limbs went useless, and the world folded away. It happened so fast. The darkness tasted like death. --- When I opened my eyes the cold hit me like a fist. My wrists and ankles were bound. My body lay on a block of ice so huge it felt like a pale slab of the Arctic. The air was sharp and my teeth chattered until my jaw ached. “Is anyone there? Please — help me!” I croaked. My voice was small in the frozen room. A familiar voice a

KAYA MACHERSON “What do I do with my investigation board?” I muttered to myself. I couldn’t take it to Damon’s house, and leaving it here was a huge risk. So, I took pictures and wiped it clean. I’d be back in a month. In a month, I’d make Damon fall in love with me… and then I’d turn down the marriage deal. He’d be heartbroken—begging on his knees. There was a light knock on my door. “Come in,” I said, pulling out my travel bag. It was Cecilia. She carried a pack of food, which was… odd. What was she up to? “Kaya… I ordered too much spaghetti. I thought you might want some.” I accepted the food with a polite smile. “Thank you, Cecilia. That’s so thoughtful of you.” She nodded but didn’t leave. Instead, she scratched her neck nervously. “So… you’re leaving soon?” “Missing me already?” I teased. She nodded again, her voice small. “Yes… I am. You don’t have to go, you know.” “What do you mean?” “I know you don’t like him. I saw the look on your face earlier. Let me help

“Inmate 116, Jessica Williams — you have a visitor,” the guard announced, his voice too loud for the cell block. Jessica’s face lit up. She hadn’t had visitors in four years. She waited until the guard opened her cell gate. The women she shared a room with hissed under their breaths as she was led away; chains clinked around her wrists. The guard unlocked the visiting room and shoved her through. Her hands were still cuffed. She blinked. The man sitting at the table was not anyone she’d seen before. He wore a plain blue T-shirt; his hair was neat, his shoes expensive. He smelled of money. “Five minutes,” the guard said and stepped back. “Who are you?” Jessica asked. “You can call me Mystery Guy,” he replied, expression blank. “I’m here to get you out.” Jessica almost laughed. Get her out? Everyone had written her off years ago. Breaking out of prison wasn’t the kind of favor ordinary people did. “Why would you do that?” she asked. “Because I want something from you,” he said.