All Chapters of The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal.: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Andrew’s words left a suffocating silence. His breath lingered, his whisper curling down my spine like a serpent. Water dripped down my frozen body, but inside, something writhed.“You don’t see it yet,” he murmured. “But you will.”I shivered, ice and fire colliding.“Soon, Allison…” He exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You’ll become worse than Clayton, your father, and Mr Blade.” His voice darkened, rough with something deadly. “You’ll be filthy, vile and cunning. A master in manipulating.”His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—something like fear."Hell, you might be worse."The words sliced through me, sharper than any blade, cutting past flesh and bone, straight to something deeper. My heart.He shook his head. “I see it already, Allison. You’re on that treacherous path, and I—” His breath hitched. His grip tightened, then released. “I won’t be here to watch. I know the cost of this life—past, present, and future.”A sharp sob tore from me, but he looked unfazed.

The house was much smaller, its wooden planks warped by time. Each breeze made the walls groan, and beyond the backyard, only dry grass clung to life. Inside, the air held the scent of aged wood—and faint traces of my father, though he was gone.We had only the large soil he once dreamed would make him a wealthy farmer and gardener.I lay beside my mother, her body trembling as she clutched my six-year-old siblings, Elijah and Elsie, who tried to comfort her in their childish ways.“Don’t cry, Mama,” Elsie said, her little voice serious. “Maybe Papa will come back.”Elijah nodded, puffing out his small chest. “Big Brother, why did God take Daddy? When will he come back?”I exhaled shakily, pressing my forehead against my mother’s shoulder. I wanted to tell them the truth, that Dad wasn’t coming back, but instead, I found myself whispering, “Heaven needed him because the workers in the sky are very busy now. God asked him to help make more clouds so kids like you could be happy. He’ll

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

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. "

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