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The Mafia's Captured Slave Actual story
Is Marcel Delacourt Harold's father??No!!He can also be some relative to him but the way Marcel was looking down at Helen was so adorable.But...I'm still confused.So if Marcel is Harold's father then why Harold hates his father so much??Marcel.Helen.Harold.Ashar.Anthony.Everything is connected yet I just can't join the dots.I was inside my room pacing back and forth trying to figure out who Marcel is really to Harold.After giving the file, I just couldn't stop myself from thinking about the photoframe.I took my phone from the nightstand and approached Google before typing..Who is Harold Kingston's father??It was still buffering as I waited patiently.The page opened revealing nothing but only three words which were 'no result found'.I sighed.Why am I even bothering??Whoever his father is, why do I care?I sat on the bed..No more discussions on Harold's private life.It's just driving me nuts.Suddenly my phone dinged as I glanced at it, there was a message from Dyl
The Mafia's Captured Slave His mother
Third person's pov ::Harold's age: 15Sunlight penetrated through windows as Helen pulled the curtains apart, "Rise and shine my king, it's time for your school." Helen walked towards the bed before pulling the blanket away from Harold."Mom, just two more minutes." Harold groaned as the sunlight was directly hitting his eyes."You've got your vocal classes now." Helen said as Harold smiled before sitting straight on his bed. "So my king is now going to get ready for his singing class." Helen said it in a sing-song way while pinching his cheeks.Harold frowned and rolled his eyes. "Mom!!! Stop calling me king, I'm not a baby anymore. Call me Harold. Even my other friends including Dylan call me king in a teasy way to irk me." Harold groaned and in return Helen smiled."Let your friends call you king because you are a king. The meaning of your name Harold is leader.....a king." Harold shook his head in dismay before getting up from the bed before making his way to the washroom."Your
The Mafia's Captured Slave Like singing
Third person's pov ::Harold's age: 15With long strides, Marcel marched towards Helen with a muderous glare."Do not ever touch my things." He snatched the pack of white powder from her hand before putting it back to his drawer."What--" She was cut off by Marcel."Stop poking your nose everywhere, Helen." Marcel closed the door of his cupboard shut with a loud bang.The mixture of anxiety and fear overwhelmed her, she just wanted answers to her question. So with enough courage she asked."Why is there a gun inside your drawer? And what is that white powder... is it drugs--""It's none of your business." He spun around as his back was now facing her.She walked on the front to face him. "It is my business, I'm your wife.""Not anymore." He stated curtly with a face of void emotions."What do you mean..not anymore?" She stammered, her lips trembled as fear engulfed her.Without saying a word Marcel walked upto the bed towards his suitcase before pulling the front zipper open. He pulle
The Mafia's Captured Slave Save us
Third person's pov ::Harold's age: 15The flight landed as slowly Helen got out of it. She was directed outside as already two cars were waiting for her, she climbed onto the second car as the appointed guide for her was already waiting for her inside the car."Good morning ma'am!!" The guide greeted as Helen could only nod in return as the feeling of fear was engulfing her."Are you sure about going there?" He asked with a worried expression."Pardon?""Are you sure about going there.... to that forbidden place.?" The guide repeated as Helen's face contorted in confusion."Forbidden place?""That place is owned by one of the most deadliest mafia Don, now his son is ruling that area. The place...." the guides face contorted in disgust.".....alcohol and drug smell lingers on the air of that forbidden place, it is the dark...loomy area of the whole Pisa which only gives you a dangerous vibe." He sighed,"Still you wanna go there??" He asked.Helen nodded. "Ye...yes." she stuttered.Th
The Mafia's Captured Slave The song
Third person's pov ::Harold's age: 15Helen walked out of the store room, she couldn't believe that she fell in love with such a disgusting man, the fact that he was her husband filled her with abhorrence. She was here to get him and his love back but now she felt nothing but revulsion towards him."HELEN!!!!" A voice boomed and Helen flinched, coming out of her stupor state."Where were you? I've been searching for you?" The young man glared."Don wants to see you right now in an instant." The man stated before guiding her towards the Don's cabin.The man turned the door knob and let Helen in before closing the door behind her. Intense rage, pure hatred and a deep scowl of disgust etched her face as she came face to face with Marcel. Both eyes glaring at each other."What are you doing here??!" Marcel roared but Helen stood there without flinching, still glaring at him. Marcel marched forward towards her and grabbed her elbows harshly."I've said to not come here and--" he was cut o
The Mafia's Captured Slave Doesn't deserve to live
Third person's pov ::Six months later:Harold's age: 16Within six months Helen built a committee for a drug free society and saving girls from being trafficked. There weren't many people in her committee yet, but she was still appointing men and women for this committee."Ma'am there's shortage of money." Mr Davidson reasoned out."Sell the shares to those Brazilians, which they were yearning for. But with the double price." Helen said while massaging her temple."But ma'am, those shares are important for our own company and--""Mr Davidson, just do what I say." Helen knew it was a huge loss for her company but she didn't care about it.Mr Davidson nodded and walked away.She has bought a small two story building for this committee to run. She has appointed around eighty armed men and some spies who are already on their work. She has appointed forty women too.So the first trip was on, she has already sent the first group to Italy to save those girls."We want victory!!" Was the wor
The Mafia's Captured Slave Couldn't save her
Third person's pov ::Harold's age: 16"Are you the one behind all of this??" Marcel blazed in anger."Behind what??" Helen smirked in return.There were infront of the seashore, facing each other. The water waves moving up and down, wild and free. They were times when they used to visit this place everyday back then when Harold was a kid. A wave of nostalgia swept over Helen while entering the place. The three of them, a perfect happy family. But now it was shattered, everything was ruined."Don't play dumb, Helen!!" He growled."Yes, it was me." Helen smirked in challenging way. "I abducted those girls from your lair and even the white powders." She clicked her tongue. "Even Diego is dead now." She gave him a pity look."You!!!" Marcel's nostrils flared in intense rage as he took a step forward to harm her."Don't you dare!" Helen glared as she held her palm out."A single step forward and my men, who are standing above the building will shoot you." Marcel looked up at the building
The Mafia's Captured Slave A,symbol of weakness
Harold's age: 17HAROLDThe cold breeze brushed past me, sending a shiver down my spine. I stood there coldly staring ahead of me at my mother's graveyard.Rest. In. Peace.Helen KingstonA mother, daughter and savior. Known for her kindness and humble nature.A woman of words. May her soul rest in peace.Was engraved on her stone and I felt numb.....the extreme agony just made me numb. The one question was still bothering my mind.Why??Why did dad-- Marcel Dèlacourt kill my mother and why was mom's name written as Kingston instead of Delacourt.I wanted answers but I didn't want to ask questions with anyone.Even I was in fault, I couldn't save her. She died in front of my eye sight and I couldn't do anything to save her.Everyone in here thought that it was the fire accident that killed my mom but no one knew the real reason behind my mother's ash turned body.(The song above, do listen to it.)A girl was singing infront of my mother's grave. And I felt like dead man, staring blank
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