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Chapter 59: The Danger of Secrets.
Last Updated:
2025-01-28 18:36:57
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 60: The Room That Holds Me
The kitchen was a masterpiece of modern opulence—marble countertops gleamed under pendant lights that hung like crystals, the metallic sheen of state-of-the-art appliances reflecting the morning light spilling through massive floor-to-ceiling windows. A center island stretched long enough to host a royal feast. But none of it fazed me. My thoughts were elsewhere.Dontrell. Last night. The file. Where had he gone? Did Andrew know? Were they together? Questions swirled relentlessly in my mind, gnawing at me, refusing to let go.I absentmindedly took a bite of the toast, but it was dry in my mouth. First simple meal in ages. Ever since I married, my mornings were filled with extravagant meals prepared by chefs determined to "fatten me up," whether here or at his father’s mansion. It was excessive, like everything else about my life now.I set the teacup down with a soft clink and reached for my purse on the counter. Pulling out my lipstick, I opened my compact powder case, its large mirro
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I scanned the document. My name is elegantly written. Below, a star circled in red on a map of the night sky.I blinked, breath catching. “You bought me a star?” I couldn’t believe it. My chest tightened with surprise.“Not just any star," Dontrell said, stepping closer, his heat enveloping me. "The brightest in the Scorpius constellation. Every night when you look up, you'll know a part of the universe is yours—and so am I." His fingers brushed my wrist gently. His words hit me like a wave, stealing my breath. It was so absurdly romantic, so painfully perfect. Overcome, I threw myself into his arms.He caught me mid-air, arms locking around me effortlessly, holding me against his chest like I belonged there. I stayed wrapped in him, fingers curling into the back of his shirt, breathing him in. My voice shook as I whispered against his skin, “I never knew a man like you was capable of loving me like this.” His hold on me tightened. “You don’t know one-tenth of what I’m capable of d
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The heat inside me built like a raging storm, ready to shatter. My chest heaved, my breathing haggard and uneven as I stared at Dontrell. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. Elias? He was coming to stay?The words rang in my ears like a cruel joke. A dizzying rush of fury and disbelief crashed through me, I began to boil. I pushed Dontrell—hard—my hands slamming into his chest. But the impact didn’t move him. He barely shifted. He just stood there, rigid, his towering frame unshaken. That only made me angrier. I jumped off the table, the wooden edge scraping against my thighs as I landed beside him. Hate brewing in me.I turned on my heel to leave, but his grip caught me fast.“Let me go,” I snapped, jerking against his grip, slapping at his hand with my free one. He didn’t budge. “Allison, calm down.” His voice was firm, but he didn’t release me. I struggled harder, wrestling against his grip, but he caught my other wrist too, spinning me to face him. “Y
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I leaned back into the leather of the executive chair in my home office, the second-floor room sprawling in front of me, its polished wood floors reflecting the dim light from the chandelier above. The walls were adorned with dark, expensive art pieces, and shelves lined with books on strategy, business, and war. The heavy mahogany desk in front of me had papers scattered carelessly, evidence of a mind too occupied with thoughts to care for order. My shirt was ruined, paint dripping from my chest, but the discomfort of the mess on my body was nothing compared to the ache gnawing at my chest. The emptiness from Allison’s absence gnawing at my insides.Her words replayed in my mind, sharp as ever: "I need time away from you. From your face. From everything that has to do with you."I ran my hand over my face, trying to shove the storm of thoughts back. But they wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t shake the image of her walking away. That door slammed shut. It felt like she slammed it on everythi
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Tension thickened the air Carter sat across from me, his overconfident stare grating on my nerves. I’d already told him no. Yet here we were, in this private VIP lounge, whiskey in hand, fingers drumming against it. I didn’t care about his offers or his money. I had a thousand things to handle and no time for the Circle’s policies, especially now when I needed to focus on how to keep Allison alive. But they’d forced my hand. If Carter played his cards right with this deal, he'd survive, but if not, my dad would bury him.Andrew sat to my right, unreadable as always. He'd checked Carter out but found nothing too—just another sick billionaire’s son trying to make a name. But I could see it in his eyes—he didn’t trust the guy, though he couldn’t pin down why.“I knew you’d come around once you saw what I had to offer,” Carter said smoothly, flashing a grin. His sky-blue suit was way too much, and of everything he could use, he chose a red bow tie. Ridiculous.I barely glanced at him, irr
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Carter stared at the document in his hands, his grip tightening with every second. His gaze flicked to Andrew, searching for some sign that this was a joke. But Andrew wasn’t the joking type. “Why doesn’t Dontrell want them?” Carter asked, his voice betraying a hint of unease.Andrew scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Because merging them with his crew means bringing in men he doesn’t trust. Dontrell already has his empire running here. He’s got his cartel. But the Circle wants him to take over. They want him as the Regent." Andrew leaned in. "He won’t do it. He’s not interested in leading those men."Carter shifted, swallowing hard. He stared at the papers again, processing the weight of the matter. Andrew’s patience snapped. "You ask too many questions," he said, his voice edged with irritation. "You don’t want the deal? Say it now. You’re wasting my time. Dontrell could pick any trained bastards off the streets, and they’d take the position in a second."
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Carter swallowed hard, nodding.I released his hand. "The next Confraternity meeting is soon. I could get you in." My gaze locked onto his. "Impress me by then, or you're out—no second chances. That document has everything—the Circle, the top dogs, their history. Read it. Fast."“Yes, Don,” Carter answered, swallowing hard.I leaned in, towering over him despite the table between us. “Andrew ran a background check on you. Says you’ve been here longer than you claim.” Carter stiffened. "Carter stiffened. 'Yeah, back then, I wasn’t in business. Just vacations, fun. But when I saw what this city offered—money, power, respect—I stayed."I chuckled, unimpressed. “I don’t care what you did before. What matters now is everything the Graves do—every deal, every mistake—gets reported to me. Every detail.”I laid it out. “60% of whatever they make goes to their upkeep, weapons, hideouts, and others. The rest is yours." I meant what I said—I don’t need your money. What I need is for the Circle
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‘Is he with you? Because if he is, I won’t open that door.’I texted Andrew, ignoring his constant knocking. The staff had pleaded all day for me to forgive and stay, but I refused. Even as I moved my things away, they begged me to stop. But I couldn't, not after what Dontrell did.I wiped a tear from my cheek, my chest heaving with the remnants of my breakdown. My head pounded, my sinuses clogged, and my breath came in uneven sniffs—those after-crying gasps that burned the throat.My gaze flicked around the room. Smaller than the one I shared with Dontrell, but still luxurious—cream-colored walls, a grand bed, and a massive wardrobe. Comfortable, but not the same.My phone vibrated, and Andrew’s text glowed on the screen.‘Yes, he isn’t. And I don’t think he’s coming back anytime soon.’My fingers tightened around my phone before I dropped it on the bed.I stood, walked to the door, and yanked it open.Before Andrew could react, I yanked him inside by his shirt. I slammed the door an
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The sight of Clayton made my blood boil. Yet he stood there, arrogant and unbothered, like a loaded gun, his gaze mockingly daring me to snap.His voice, smooth but cold, cut through the air. “Couldn't pretend to like me even for a moment?”I barely had time to process the bite in his tone before he delivered the real blow.“For the sake of my unborn nephew. My son.”The words hit like a slap. My nails dug into my palms as I fought hard not to react in front of the crowd gathered in the hall, but he knew he was pissing me off, and he was loving it.I met his gaze, my voice sharp. “You don’t have a son here, Clayton. Don’t pretend you’re happy for your brother. We both know you wanted to be first to give your dad a grandchild.”He stepped closer, invading my space, leaning against the counter. “Yeah,” he admitted, his smirk infuriating. “But either way, I’m still glad. This is big news for my family. Aside from having an heir, you just helped us kill the rumours.” He tilted his head, v
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 142: A Toast to Lies.
The grand hall glowed under golden chandeliers, its walls awash in soft pink and blue. Balloon arches swayed near the high ceilings, their colours blending in baby-friendly charm. Floral arrangements lined silk-draped tables, candlelight flickering against crystal glassware.Grilled meats, aged whisky, and cigars laced the air, mingling with laughter and clinking glasses.Dontrell pulled this off in under eight hours, yet nothing felt rushed—only extravagant. He had done the impossible. Business moguls, high-ranking mafia associates—even his impish father, smug and satisfied—were all here. Soft, slow instrumentals hummed in the background.I wasn’t surprised. Dontrell moved mountains when he wanted something, and tonight, he wanted to celebrate me carrying his child.I sat at the left back corner of the hall, away from the crowd. I had been seated at the front with the Blades, but the weight of too many eyes had pressed in on me, making me nauseous.So I slipped away to this quieter s
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 141: Whispers of a Future—His to Protect.
The ground beneath me swayed like I stood on the edge of an abyss. My pulse thundered in my ears, muffling the voices around me.Mr Blade’s stare held me captive—cold, unreadable. Clayton’s gaze was no softer, sharp as a knife. Doris stood frozen, barely breathing.I was trapped.I let go of her hand, but the weight of the moment didn’t lessen.“Go on.” Mr Blade’s calm voice masked steel. “Tell her what you want to tell her. Nobody else has to hear.”I scoffed, my lips curling in defiance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”His face hardened. “Speak.” The command cracked like a whip.A presence shifted beside him. Dontrell. He had been at the burial front, yet somehow, he stood here, appearing as if from thin air.“Is there a problem here?” Dontrell asked his father. His voice was calm, but his stance bristled with power. “I heard your voice from a distance.”Mr Blade’s lips curled in displeasure. “No problem… unless your wife wants one.”Dontrell’s posture stiffened, his eyes
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 140: One. Two. Pull the Trigger.
Rocco’s entire body shook. "What?"His eyes darted between his dying son and Dontrell’s cold, unyielding gaze. The room held its breath. A father’s impossible choice—yet here he was. His son twitched, drowning in his blood. No saving him. No stopping this. Mr Blade didn’t blink. The walls closed in.Dontrell’s voice was merciless. “She’s locked in a container on my dock. If I have to pull the trigger, I’ll have my men drop her in the ocean —ALIVE.”Rocco’s grip wavered as he took the gun. His fingers trembled, nearly dropping it.Mr Blade stepped toward Rocco, gripping his cane. He pulled off the rubber tip at the bottom—revealing a sharp blade. With a brutal thrust, he stabbed Rocco’s foot.Rocco screamed.Mr Blade twisted the blade deeper. "I pull it out; it goes in your back next. Stop wasting my time."Rocco sobbed.Dontrell’s voice cut through, counting. "One. Two—"Rocco murmured to his son, “I’m sorry.”He pulled the trigger. The bullet punched through his son's forehead, blood
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 139: Allison’s POV: an eye for an eye.
I hadn’t left the living room, just shifted—hitting Dontrell, striking Clayton, demanding answers they didn’t have. How did they let this happen? Why didn’t they save him?At some point, a guard tried holding me back. I slapped him too. But none of it mattered. Andrew was still gone.Now, It was nearly four a.m., and I was still here. Neither Dontrell nor Clayton had left. They had told me to go to bed, but how could I close my eyes after what had happened?The phone calls never stopped all night. Different numbers, different voices, different updates. The Blade men were already hunting a name—Rocco Valeri. The bastard who killed Andrew. I sometimes forgot how ruthless and skilled the Blades were—especially with their own enemies.I prayed they found him. But I also knew something. When the Blade family hunts a foe, they don't seek revenge, they seek annihilation.I hadn't even realized I had dozed off until the sound of heavy boots storming into the living room jolted me awake. I s
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 138: Everything Faded to Black.
Tires screeched on the rough pavement as I swerved, forcing the car to its limits. Dust choked the air as I sped toward the warehouse. The engine roared—a battle cry."Hold on!" I barked, gripping the wheel. My heart pounded with the engine's growl.Clayton and Dontrell braced behind me, jaws tight, fingers twitching on their guns. The eight men left in their convoy followed closely behind us. No turning back now.I pushed harder. VRRROOOMMM—swerved past a wrecked truck.The warehouse loomed, rusted doors towering like hell’s gates. I hit the brakes. Tires screamed as the car skidded into position.The moment I cut the engine, the doors flew open."Move! Move! Move!" I bellowed, shoving my door open.Everyone jumped out, weapons drawn. The air was thick with tension, the promise of war looming over us like a storm ready to break."Where the hell are our troops?" I barked at Dontell. “We need the damn backup now!" I stepped out, both guns in hand.He barely looked up from his phone. "
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 137: Andrew’s pov: Blood.
The moment I stepped out of the airport, the first thing I saw was Dontrell—he leaned against the bulletproof SUV, arms crossed, unreadable. Clayton sat in the front, scanning the surroundings.Immediately I got in, Clayton fired up the engine, jaw tight, steering through the busy street.Five armored cars flanked us—two ahead, three behind, like an iron wall. But inside our bulletproof ride, it was just us.Dontrell sat beside me, loading his gun with practiced ease. I did the same, checked my rounds, cocked my weapon, tightened my vest. The car smelled of gun oil and adrenaline."Trust’s a luxury I can’t afford," Dontrell muttered, reloading. "That’s why Clayton’s driving." He tossed me a gun. "This conversation stays between us."I nodded, my fingers tightening around the cold steel in my hands, fully loaded. No safety. No bullshit. “Talk to me.” Clayton pulled onto the road, leading the convoy as we sped out of the city. The silence was heavy. The kind before war.Dontrell unzip
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 136: Allison pov - Twisted Fate.
Alone in the mansion, I curled up on the velvet couch, flipping through a book I wasn’t even reading. The television murmured in the background, its flickering images failing to distract me. Security was everywhere. They had been in here with me before, but I had asked them to stay outside —their presence was suffocating.In the past twenty-four hours, my life has been a whirlwind. Mr Blade had called, demanding to speak to me, but Dontrell refused to hand me the phone. Then my father called—cold as ever. He boasted about his bank’s new investor, thanks to me and our ties to the Blades. As if that wasn’t enough, he reminded me I was taking too long to have a child, asking, ‘What was my problem?’ I hung up without a word. I wouldn’t let his voice poison my thoughts.Despite the chaos, Dontrell had been genuinely worried about me. He continuously asked if my father’s call or Mr Blade’s demand had upset me. "I’m fine," I lied, and he also didn’t believe me.Paranoid, more than usual. He
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 135: Pulled Back.
I ran into her arms, breath hitching as I crushed myself against her. I buried my head in her lap. Her scent—warm. Familiar. Home.She yanked my hair. Pain flared, but I didn’t pull away. I let her. I deserved it. I buried my head in her lap, a boy again, clinging to comfort long lost.“Andrew.” Her voice wavered. “A son after my own heart.” Her grip loosened. Trembling, she wiped the tears I hadn’t noticed.My name left her lips like a ghost.My throat was thick, my voice hoarse. "Mom—"She slapped me.It didn’t hurt. What hurt was the look in her eyes.“Sixteen years.” Her voice cracked.I clenched my jaw, her words pressing down on me. “I had no choice.”Her breath shook. Her gaze was desperate. Accusing.She laughed, brittle. “That’s where you’re wrong, Andrew.” She turned away, whispering. “You always had a choice.”Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.I exhaled slowly, the words I had never been able to say finally escaping.I tensed. Years. Silence. Distance. Cr
