All Chapters of The Mafia Who Bought Me : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The words didn’t leave the room. They hung there, thick and heavy, refusing to dissolve. This isn’t just a debt anymore. For a second, I desperately wanted to believe I had misheard him. That my mind was twisting his words into something darker than they were. Something I could still manage. Something that hadn’t already spiraled far beyond my control. But the look on my father’s face — pale, exhausted, eyes haunted, told me I hadn’t misheard anything. My chest felt tight. Not the sharp panic I expected, but a deep, heavy pressure. Like my body already understood the danger before my mind could fully accept it. “What does that mean?” I asked. My voice came out quieter than I intended, almost fragile in the heavy silence. He didn’t answer immediately. Of course he didn’t. That had become his default — silence as both shield and weapon. I stared at his shaking hands for another moment before forcing my gaze back to his face. “You keep doing this. Dropping half-truths and

Elena POV The shift happened instantly. I didn’t go near his office again. I didn’t try to talk to him, and I certainly didn’t ask Luca or anyone else where he was. I told myself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter, repeating the lie like a desperate prayer until it almost sounded convincing in my own head. Almost. The first day was the easiest. It was easy to stay locked inside my room, easy to avoid the main halls, and easy to pretend my world hadn’t just been dismantled piece by piece. I kept myself busy with hollow, mindless tasks that didn’t require a soul — walking from the bed to the window, sitting motionless, tracing the grain of the wooden nightstand until my vision blurred. Anything to stop my mind from drifting. Because the moment I stopped, his voice echoed in the silence like a blade pressed against my ribs. You were never meant to matter. It didn’t even sound like cruelty in my memory anymore. It just sounded like a simple fact. Every time it replayed, it carve

Elena POV I didn’t plan to see him. I’d been avoiding him without even thinking about it most days. Taking longer routes through the house, staying in the parts of the mansion I knew he rarely went to. Little things. Stupid things. But they helped. And the worst part? He was doing the same thing. That made it easier… and somehow so much worse. Because it wasn’t just me being stubborn or dramatic or whatever excuse I kept telling myself. It was both of us choosing this distance. Both of us walking around like the other person was a landmine we didn’t want to step on. So when I turned the corner into the long hallway and saw him standing there, I stopped dead. Not because I wanted to. My body just… did it. Like it still recognized him before my brain could catch up and tell it to keep moving. He was already looking at me. That was the second thing I noticed. He hadn’t turned at the sound of my footsteps. He was just there, eyes already on me like he’d been waiting. Or maybe that wa

Elena POV “Get over it,” I muttered under my breath. But it didn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes, it came right back — his face, the way he looked at me, the way he leaned in like he was finally going to do something… and then stopped. The almost. It kept circling over and over. Like my brain refused to let it go. By the time morning came, I was already awake, just lying there staring at the ceiling. I was done pretending I could sleep through this. I pushed myself up slowly, ran a hand through my messy hair, and let out a long breath that felt too heavy for my chest. “If you knew everything… you’d run.” His voice wouldn’t leave me alone. “Then tell me,” I whispered to the empty room. But I already knew he wouldn’t. That wasn’t how Dante worked. “Fine,” I said, standing up. “I’ll figure it out myself.” I didn’t give myself time to second-guess it. If I did, I’d probably crawl back under the covers and pretend none of this was eating at me. So I got dressed fast. Jeans,

Elena POV “You’re sure this is the place?” The driver’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up from my phone, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror for a second before looking back down at the screen. The blurry photo I’d taken in that hidden room was still open, coordinates glowing underneath it. I’d checked them so many times during the drive that the numbers felt burned into my brain. “Yeah,” I said. “This is it. Stop here.” The car slowed and came to a stop, tires crunching over cracked concrete. I didn’t wait, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool air. It hit me right away — thinner, quieter, heavier. Like this whole stretch of land had been deliberately emptied out. “This doesn’t look like anything,” the driver muttered, leaning out his window as I closed the door. I glanced back at him. “It’s fine. Just wait for me, I won’t be long.” He nodded, but the hesitation was clear on his face. I didn’t blame him. The place looked wrong. Rows of o