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Chapter 67: Allison’s POV: The Price of Secrets.
Dernière mise à jour:
2025-02-02 23:34:20
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 68: In the Face of Fate.
I glanced at my phone, my fingers tightening around it. I had only managed to go through part of the information Andrew sent me last night. There were still hours of recordings to listen to and countless PDF files left unopened. Every single thing he sent kept me up until dawn, my mind racing with revelations I never saw coming.I knew Mr. Blade was the Godfather, but I had no idea he was planning for Dontrell to take over. That’s why he’d been obsessed with me giving him an heir.My stomach churned, and a cold shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the file Andrew sent—the one that confirmed someone was out there, watching, planning my death.I swallowed hard and refocused, but the three women standing in the room made it impossible to concentrate.They stood rigid, eyes locked on me, showing no sign of hiding their impatience. I’d begged them three times to let me check my phone—and each time, they’d agreed. But now, I could feel their patience slipping.I exhaled sharply, droppin
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-02-03The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 70: Falling Deeper Into You
“Tickles, tickles," Dontrell murmured, his voice dripping with mischief as he hovered over me, his weight pressing me into the bed."Stop!" I gasped between laughter, twisting beneath him as his fingers teased my waist and ears.“Want me to stop?” he asked, slowing to a torturous pace.“No,” I gasped between giggles. “But I have a dress fitting in forty minutes and need to get up from under you.” I exhaled, staring into his dark, unreadable eyes. “But it’s so hard to leave when you look this good.” My voice trailed off as I ran my fingers through his hair.His dark eyes held mine, amusement dancing in them. "You can go whenever you want. No one's going to charge you a late f*e when the fashion house belongs to your husband."I laughed. “That’s true. And to think I spent all my time in college obsessing over every new collection from Trelluxe High Fashion, buying everything—clothes, accessories, bags—like my father owned the business. Never once did I think to check who owned it.” I sho
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-02-04The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 71—A Cold Glance.
The atelier was a temple of luxury, a world of exclusivity draped in soft golden light and perfumed with the scent of the finest fabrics. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over mannequins adorned in breathtaking gowns—each an unapologetic display of opulence. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected the essence of high fashion, while polished marble floors whispered beneath the weight of designer heels. The air hummed with the quiet rustle of silk and hushed conversations between tailors and their elite clientele.As I stepped further into the private showcasing room, Lena, one of the senior attendants, approached with a practiced elegance, a glass of red wine in her delicate fingers. She handed it to me with a reverent nod.“Here, Mrs. Blade. To keep you refreshed while we fit you into the gown,” she said smoothly.I took the glass, swirling the liquid idly, watching how the deep crimson coated the glass. "Thank you," I murmured, my eyes already scanning
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-02-05The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 72: Lies, Desire, and Leverage.
I ran into the small storage room, my heart racing in my chest, and Andrew followed close behind. His eyes darted across the quiet hallway before he shut the door behind us quietly, then he locked it. The only sound was our breathing and the pulse of my own panic as I paced in the small, cramped room, shelves stacked high with boxes."Andrew... hell has broken loose; we’ve been caught." I wept, voice shaking. My fingers twitched nervously against the fabric of my dress. My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything to focus on, but all that was in sight was fabrics, machines, and boxes. I wasn’t sure if it was the fear, guilt, or the danger looming over us now that was making me shiver, but my knees felt weak, and my head was as heavy as lead.He grabbed my shoulders gently, forcing me to face him. "Calm down. Let me see the text again," he said, his voice low but steady. Andrew wasn’t panicking like I was, and for someone whose life was on the line, his calmness triggered me
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-02-06The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 73: The Price of Silence.
I stood across from Andrew in the cold, dimly lit storage room. The air was thick with the weight of my breath, the silence pressing in on me as I watched him type furiously on his phone. His forehead had sweat all over it, and his eyes darkened with fury. The message he sent was short, clipped, and dangerously precise.“I have a job for you. I need eyes on someone right now.”I swallowed the lump in my throat, my tears still fresh from the fear gnawing at my insides. "Who was that, Andrew?" I whispered, panic bubbling inside me. "We have to be careful. We can’t let anyone else find out about us."Andrew didn't look up, his fingers moving relentlessly across the screen. He glanced at me with a cold, controlled stare, his lips thinning.“You don’t need to worry, Allison. I know how to handle this. I’m not panicking, and you shouldn’t either. I’ve been in worse situations, and each time I’ve escaped them. This blackmailer is in it for money, not revenge. He wouldn’t play this game if he
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-02-06The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 74: Eyes that Dissect.
He didn’t say a word. His eyes locked onto me, cutting through the air with cold intensity. My stomach churned, but I fought to mask the panic clawing at me.His lips curled into a smile, sharp and calculating. His hand shot out to me, his jaw tightening as he spoke. "You tell me, Allison," he said, his voice low, measured, yet with a dangerous bite beneath it. "Why I can’t stop staring at you when you make my chest burn, raise my temperature, and you look so damn good, even after spending thirty minutes in the toilet, dumping a mess yet walking out like a goddess?"I laughed, but it came out tight. "Don't say that here," I muttered, moving toward him, grabbing his hand.He smirked. “Say what? That my wife could walk out of the bathroom—the least favorite room of anyone—and still look good?” His words were playful, but there was something deep in his eyes.I smiled, glancing around at the reception. Everyone—ushers and staff—was looking at us. Eyes wide, taking in the scene. Before I
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-02-06The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 75—Every breath, a risk.
“Answer me, Allison,” Dontrell’s voice was low, edged with a warning, his gaze locked onto mine like a predator closing in. “Who the fuck was that calling you, and why are you ignoring their calls?”My throat felt dry. I swallowed, trying to keep my expression neutral, but his fingers on my thigh tightened. He wasn’t just waiting for an answer—he was demanding one. The air in his office suddenly felt heavier.I let out a small, calculated sigh, reaching for my phone with feigned annoyance. Shaking my head, I set it down beside me, like the call had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He was watching me too closely, dissecting every flicker of emotion on my face. I couldn’t crack.“It’s the delivery guy for the heels I ordered,” I lied smoothly, slipping my phone back onto the chair. My voice held just the right amount of irritation as if this was nothing but a stupid mix-up. “He was confirming the address again. I told him to check his system and hung up, but he keeps bother
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-02-07The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 76: The King’s Office: A Battlefield of Pleasure.
The air in Dontrell’s office was thick—suffocating with want.I laid back flat against the plush leather of his sofa, my thighs spread as he knelt between them, one strong hand wrapped around my throat, the other buried beneath my panties. Two fingers curled inside me, each stroke ruthless, sending a flood of heat through my veins. His mouth was on me—hot, consuming—tongue lashing over my nipple, teeth scraping just enough to make me whimper.His grip on my neck tightened, forcing my gaze to meet his. Dark. Unrelenting."I’m not just going to give you what you want," he murmured against my skin, voice dripping with command. "I’m going to take everything. Every breath, every moan, every last drop of sanity until all you know is me."I tried to respond, tried to form words, but all that came out was a desperate moan as his fingers drove deeper, fucking me with a pace that made my back arch. The slick, obscene sound of his fingers moving inside me filled the office, blending with the wet
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-02-07
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I couldn’t sit. The air in this hospital lobby was suffocating, thick with tension. Each time those damn doors opened, my heart leapt—only to settle when it wasn’t the doctor. Just nurses, passing by with forced smiles like they could pretend everything was fine.Where the hell was the doctor? Eight hours had passed since Allison was rushed in. Eight hours, and still no news.I glanced at Clayton—panic twisted his face, just like mine. His hands were stained with her blood, dried at the cuffs. He sat tense, rubbing his face over and over as if trying to scrub away his anxiety.I shook my head. It wasn’t his fault, but I couldn’t stop the rage rising, my breaths growing heavier.My eyes kept darting toward him, recalling how she explained rushing into the restroom when she started bleeding and held her as her body went cold.The seconds before he reached the hospital—her head on his chest, her fingers twitching then stopping. That image burnt into me, searing into my soul. Why wasn’t I
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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. "
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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
