THE MAFIA KING BROKEN ROSE

Chapter 1

Aria’s POV

I never expected my life to turn out like this.

To sell my body just to survive.

No, I wasn't a prostitute.

I was a stripper.

I get paid to dance half naked in front of rich fat men who don't have better use for their money.

Except for one guy. Who was tall, handsome, neat. Every girl wanted his attention.

But he didn't spend, he watched. He sipped his wine and he made me the most hated girl in the club. Because whenever he leaves, he drops a generous tip for me alone.

Unfortunately, tonight he wasn't among the crowd.

My movements were mechanical, detached, as I gripped the pole and swung my body to the music.

The bassline thumped relentlessly, vibrating through the club’s walls and into my chest. The air was thick with the mingling stench of alcohol, sweat, and horniness.

Under the neon glow of the lights, shadows danced across the stage, accentuating the sharp angles and curves of my form.

I was dressed.in nothing but panties, and a bra that had silver strings, my long wavy hair moved as I moved.

I moved because I had to.

Not because I felt anything. Not because I wanted to.

This was survival, cold, hollow survival.

Each set blurred into the next, a monotonous cycle of forced smiles, swaying hips, and prying eyes. The crowd was predictable, their whispers slurred, their stares hungry.

Their attention used to bother me, but now it barely registered.

Not after today.

Six months. That was the verdict.

Six months, maybe less.

The words echoed in my mind like a funeral song as I spun, clutching the pole to steady myself. My legs wavered, threatening to betray me.

Stage two cancer.

I was supposed to fight it, but how could I?

My body had already betrayed me. My life had already crumbled. Stripping was never supposed to be my reality, yet here I was, dancing for strangers just to stay afloat.

De Stone had become my prison, its red walls as stifling as my own fears.

How can I survive when I was already lost?

The applause rose as my set ended, a hollow sound that barely reached me.

I bent to gather the scattered bills at my feet, stuffing the crumpled notes into my bra.

The ache in my back and legs felt distant, overshadowed by the ache deep in my chest.

“Aria, you good?” Lila’s voice broke through the noise as I stepped off the stage. She stood by the dressing room door, her arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning me.

“I’m fine,” I lied, brushing past her as I headed to my locker. My fingers trembled as I unzipped my bag.

“You look like hell,” Lila shot back, softer this time, stepping closer. “What happened at the doctor’s today?”

I froze. My throat tightened. “It’s nothing,” I muttered, avoiding her eyes.

She scoffed. “Nothing doesn’t have you looking like this, babe. Spill it.”

Her persistence broke me. “Stage two,” I whispered, staring at the open locker. The words felt foreign, heavy. “Six months to live… maybe less.”

The silence between us stretched. When I dared to glance at her, her tough mask had slipped. “Shit,” she muttered, the word barely audible. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “Mom still needs me, and there’s no money for treatment. There’s no way to fix this.”

Lila reached for me, her hands gripping my shoulders as she pulled me into a hug. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she murmured.

Her warmth made my chest ache. “I do,” I whispered, pulling away. “You’ve already done too much for me. I can’t put this on you, too.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Just… promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”

I nodded, though the words felt hollow. “I won’t. I just need to get out of here.”

Without waiting for her reply, I grabbed my bag and slipped out the back door, the chill of the night air stinging my skin.

But the truth was, I wasn’t going home.

I needed Perkins.

My legs moved instinctively through the damp streets. My body ached from hours on stage, my mind spinning in a haze of exhaustion and despair. But I needed to see him. Perkins was my constant, my anchor. If anyone could make this nightmare feel less suffocating, it was him.

By the time I reached his building, the flickering porch light cast eerie shadows on the steps. My heart raced as I climbed them, my fingers brushing against the door. It was ajar, the wood creaking slightly under my touch.

“Perkins?” I called softly, my voice trembling.

Silence.

I stepped inside, the faint glow of the TV illuminating the dark living room. Something felt wrong.

The air was too still, too cold.

As I moved deeper into the apartment, I noticed it, a trail of clothes thrown across the floor.

A jacket. A woman’s blouse.

My stomach twisted.

No.

Not this.

Not tonight.

The faint sound of laughter drifted from the bedroom, muffled but unmistakable. My feet felt like lead as I approached, every step dragging me closer to what I already knew.

I stopped in the doorway.

The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled around two figures. Perkins’s bare back, the curve of another woman’s body against his.

The world tilted.

My breath caught in my throat, a sharp pain slicing through my chest.

Six months.

I had six months to live. And now, it felt like I had already died.

I hesitated, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to turn around, to walk away, but I couldn’t. Slowly, I pushed the door wider.

Perkins was there.

He wasn’t alone.

Tangled in the sheets beside him was another woman, Maya, a dancer from De Stone. Her bare skin glistened under the dim light, her body pressed against his as she giggled and nipped at his neck.

The moment stretched unbearably, each second slamming into me like a blow. Maya’s laughter trailed off as her gaze flicked toward me. Her smile vanished, replaced by something like mild annoyance, as if I were the one intruding.

Perkins turned lazily, his hand still resting on her thigh. His eyes met mine, wide but not guilty. Not even surprised.

“Aria…” he started, his tone clipped and irritated, like a man caught in a minor inconvenience.

I felt frozen, my chest constricting as the weight of the scene crushed me. My voice cracked when I finally spoke. “What the hell is this?”

“What does it look like?” he said, his voice flat, his expression almost bored.

“You’re cheating on me?” My words trembled, disbelieving.

Perkins sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Aria, calm down. Don’t make this a thing.”

“Make this a thing?” My voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “I came here to tell you—” I stopped myself, the lump in my throat too painful to swallow. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him now.

“Tell me what?” He stood, completely unbothered, his broad shoulders relaxed as Maya draped herself across him like a satisfied cat.

The words I had wanted to say earlier stuck in my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to share them—not with him, not like this.

Perkins shrugged, his lips curling into a sneer. “You’re overreacting. This… us, it’s not working. You’ve been dragging me down for months, Aria. I need someone who’s got their life together, not…” He waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “This.”

“This?” My chest tightened, the tears welling in my eyes threatening to spill over.

“You’re exhausting,” he said coldly, his voice cutting through me like a blade. “All the whining about your mom, your job, your money problems. It’s too much. And honestly, you’re not even fun anymore. You’re depressing. Why would I stick around for that?”

His words landed like punches, each one knocking the air out of my lungs. I staggered back, unable to breathe.

“After everything I’ve done for you…” I whispered, barely able to form the words.

“You’re not my responsibility,” he snapped. “I’m done with this. Move on, Aria.”

I stared at him, numb, unable to process the betrayal staring back at me. Behind him, Maya smirked, her voice dripping with mockery. “You heard him, sweetheart. Time to let go.”

I turned and ran.

---

The city blurred as I stumbled through the streets, the cold biting at my skin. My tears mixed with the rain that had begun to fall, streaking my face as I choked back sobs.

How had I been so blind?

I had given Perkins everything, my time, my trust, my body, and he had tossed me aside like I was nothing.

My legs carried me forward, one step at a time, though I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed to get away. From Perkins. From De Stone.

From the suffocating mess of my life.

When I reached my building, my fingers fumbled with my keys. My hands were numb, trembling as I tried to find the right one. Finally, I pushed the door open, desperate for the safety of home.

But something was wrong.

The living room was dark, except for the flicker of a streetlamp outside the window. The faint smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, foreign and unsettling. I froze, my heart pounding as my gaze swept the room.

The furniture was overturned. The drawers from the console were spilled across the floor. A chill ran down my spine as dread pooled in my stomach.

“Mom?” I called out, my voice barely audible.

No response.

I hurried down the hallway, my feet barely making a sound against the warped wooden floor. Her bedroom door was ajar, light spilling into the dark hallway. I shoved it open, my breath catching in my throat.

Two men stood over my mother’s frail, unconscious form. Their shadows loomed across the walls, and the air felt suffocating, heavy with malice.

One of them turned, his face hidden beneath the brim of a cap, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “Where’s your father?”

I couldn’t speak. My throat closed as fear rooted me to the spot.

“Your father owes us,” he growled, stepping closer. “And you’re going to pay.”

Chapter 2

“I think you are in the wrong house,” I started, dropping my bag on the ground.

The man grunted, hitting his bat against his hand casually, “Don't lie to us girl.”

I took a shaky step back. “He’s not here, I am not lying,” I stammered, my voice breaking.

One of the men, broader and taller than the other, narrowed his eyes. “Wrong answer,” he said, his tone cold and biting.

“It’s the truth,” I insisted, my hands raised in a feeble attempt to calm them. As if I can do anything.

“He’s not…”

A faint shuffle came from the closet behind me.

The noise was subtle, barely audible over the pounding of my heart, but it was enough. The men’s heads whipped toward the sound.

“What was that?” the smaller man asked, a cruel smirk spreading across his face.

“No,” I blurted, stepping in front of the closet. “It’s nothing! I swear—”

Before I could finish, the broad man shoved me aside like I was nothing more than a piece of furniture. I stumbled, catching myself against the wall as they stormed toward the closet.

“Let’s see about that,” he muttered, yanking the door open with a single motion.

Inside, my father cowered, his thin frame trembling as he tried to press himself deeper into the shadows. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror.

“No,” I whispered, my stomach twisting into knots.

“There you are, old man,” the broad man sneered, grabbing my father by the collar and hauling him out of the closet.

“Please!” I screamed, rushing forward. “Don’t hurt him! He’s sick—he can’t—”

The smaller man shoved me back, his laughter cruel. “Sick or not, he’s got a debt to pay.”

My father struggled weakly in their grasp, his voice a hoarse plea. “Please, I’ll pay—I just need more time.”

“Time?” The broad man laughed bitterly, throwing my father to the floor. “You’ve had time. Plenty of it. Now, it’s our turn to collect.”

They didn’t hesitate.

The first kick landed hard against my father’s ribs, sending him sprawling. He gasped in pain, clutching his side, but they didn’t stop. Blow after blow rained down on him as he writhed on the floor.

“Stop!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Please, stop! I’ll do anything—just stop!”

But they didn’t listen.

The smaller man grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it against the wall, splintering the wood. He grabbed one of the broken legs and used it to jab at my father’s side, a twisted smile on his face.

“Liar,” the broad man snarled, his boot connecting with my father’s stomach. “You thought you could hide from us? Thought you could send your daughter to lie for you?”

“I didn’t lie!” I cried, falling to my knees beside them. “I didn’t know—please, just stop!”

The broad man grabbed me by the arm and yanked me away, his grip like iron. “Stay out of this,” he barked, shoving me against the wall. “Unless you want to take his place.”

I clutched my arm, tears streaming down my face as I watched them beat my father mercilessly. His groans of pain filled the room, each one cutting through me like a knife.

“You should have paid up, old man,” the smaller man hissed, leaning down to grab my father by the collar. “Now you’re going to wish you had.”

My father’s voice was barely a whisper. “Please… don’t hurt her,” he begged, his bloodied face turning toward me.

The words made the men pause, their gazes flicking between us. Slowly, a grin spread across the smaller man’s face.

“Maybe we’ve been going about this the wrong way,” he said, his tone dripping with malice. He turned to the broad man. “What do you think? Should we teach the girl a lesson instead?”

“No,” I gasped, shaking my head furiously. “Please—”

“Enough!”

The word cut through the chaos like a knife cutting a cake,

It silenced the room instantly.

We all turned toward the man sitting on the sofa, close to my mother.

I hadn’t even realized she was there, cowering in fear, her fragile frame trembling.

“Oh, Momma…” I whispered, my heart breaking.

But my attention snapped back to the man as he leaned forward, switching on the lamp beside him.

The soft glow illuminated his face, sharp and hauntingly handsome.

A scar close to his left eyebrow, his hair styled, legs crossed against My breath caught in my throat.

Dominic De Luca.

I froze, my blood running cold.

Dominic De Luca, one of the most feared men in Beldova. His name was whispered in the darkest corners of the city, his power absolute.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto mine, sending a chill down my spine. I’d seen him before, always at De Stone, the exclusive club where I danced. He would sit in the shadows, silent and watching, his gaze like a weight on my skin.

One of my highest tippers. A man who never asked for a private dance, never even spoke to me.

But he was always there. Watching.

And now, he was here. In my home.

Dominic’s presence filled the room, cold and commanding, his tailored black suit immaculate, as though he hadn’t just walked into a scene of violence and desperation.

The men who had been tormenting my father seemed to shrink under his gaze, their earlier bravado evaporating.

“Aria,” Dominic said, his voice smooth yet unnervingly deep, wrapping around my name like a caress.

I shivered.

“Dominic,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking softly against the floor, each step deliberate and measured. His gaze swept over me, taking in the disarray of my appearance, the tear stains on my face, the trembling in my hands.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the scene around him, “is unfortunate.”

Unfortunate. As if this was just a minor inconvenience to him.

His gaze shifted to the men. “Leave us.”

“But, boss—” one of them started, his voice faltering under Dominic’s sharp glare.

“I said leave.”

The men didn’t hesitate after that, scrambling out of the room with their heads bowed.

If it was a better situation I would have laughed at them for being pussies when a real boss arrive.

But no, this man was scarier than those two combined.

The silence they left behind was deafening.

Dominic turned his attention to my father, who lay crumpled on the floor, clutching his ribs. Slowly, he reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

My breath caught.

“Dominic,” I whispered, panic rising in my chest. “Please, don’t—”

“Your father owes me a great deal of money,” Dominic said, his tone calm, almost conversational. He leveled the gun at my father’s head, his finger brushing the trigger. “More than I care to forgive. I could put a bullet in his head and the debt be forgiven.”

“No!” I cried, throwing myself between them. I dropped to my knees, my hands trembling as I reached out. “Please, he’s sick. My mother is sick. We don’t have money. Please, forgive him. Please.”

Dominic stared down at me, his expression unreadable.

The gun remained steady in his hand.

Tears streamed down my face as I begged, my voice breaking with desperation. “I’ll do anything. Please, don’t hurt him. Don't hurt my family.”

At that, Dominic tilted his head, a glimmer of interest flickering in his dark eyes. He lowered the gun slightly, though his grip remained firm.

“Anything?” he asked softly.

I nodded frantically, the words tumbling out of me before I could think. “Yes. Anything. Just tell me what to do.”

For a moment, he said nothing, instead he stared. Like he always did. Not saying anything. Just watching.

Like a predator monitoring his prey.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Be mine.”

The room seemed to tilt, his words echoing in my ears.

“What?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“You heard me,” Dominic said, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with steel. “Be mine, Aria. Your body, your loyalty, your life. Belong to me, and your father’s debt will disappear.”

I stared at him, my mind racing, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

This couldn’t be real.

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I’m offering you a way out,” Dominic said, his tone almost gentle. “Your father lives. Your mother gets the care she needs. But you…” He paused, his gaze grey eyes piercing into mine. “You become mine.”

Chapter 3

I stared at him, and what he had said left me shaking.

Belonging to the mafia that's a death wish.

A death wish for me.

My throat tightened, and I struggled to speak, to process what he was asking of me.

This wasn’t a choice, it was a demand.

And when you break a demand of a mafia don.

You die.

“I…” I began, my voice trembling. “I don’t—”

Dominic tilted his head, his expression unreadable. Then, with an unnerving calm, he reached into his jacket and drew the gun again.

The click of the chamber loading sent a jolt of fear through me.

He aimed it squarely at my father.

“No!” I screamed, my body lurching forward instinctively. “Please, don’t!”

My father, coughing and bloodied on the floor, struggled to lift his head. “Let him do it,” he rasped, his voice weak but resolute. “A shameless man like me should die.”

Dominic chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. His Adam's apple bobbed as he laughed, the unbuttoned collar of his shirt revealing the broad expanse of his chest beneath his tailored suit. He was calm, too calm, as if death was just another tool at his disposal.

“You’re a brave man,” Dominic said, his voice edged with mockery. He leaned closer to my father, the barrel of the gun inches from his head. “But bravery doesn’t pay debts.”

“Please,” my mother whimpered from the couch, her frail voice barely audible. “Please… I’ll do it. I will fucking do it. Just don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt my family.”

I swallowed hard, the room spinning as Dominic’s eyes flicked back to me.

“Is that your answer, Aria?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying the weight of a threat. “Will you save them, will you be mine or should I put an end to this mess right now?”

I opened my mouth, ready to agree, but the words caught in my throat.

“Give me time,” I said, the plea spilling out before I could stop it. “Just… give me some time to think.”

His mood changed almost instantly.

“Do you think this is a negotiation?” he snarled, his voice a menacing growl.

“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “I just need time. Two days. That’s all I’m asking.”

Dominic studied me for a long, agonizing moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he straightened, lowering the gun.

“Two days,” he said, his tone clipped.

Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.

Dominic reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek black business card. Without looking at me, he tossed it to the floor at my feet.

“Call me,” he said, his voice like steel. “Unless, of course, you want to see your father and mother dead.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, cold and final.

Without another word, Dominic turned and strode toward the door, his movements smooth and deliberate. Alessio followed close behind, but not before shooting me one last disdainful look.

The room fell deathly silent as the door slammed shut behind them.

I collapsed to the floor, my legs giving out beneath me. My chest heaved with silent sobs, the weight of everything crashing down on me at once.

I buried my face in my hands, tears spilling freely as my body shook.

No one knew.

Not my mother. Not my father.

No one knew that I only had six months left to live.

What else could I do?

The room remained silent except for my muffled sobs, the heaviness of what had just transpired pressing down on me.

I bit my lips enough to draw blood.

Hurt and alone.

“Aria…” My mother’s frail voice broke through the quiet. I felt her trembling hands clutching my shoulders as she knelt beside me.

I lifted my head to look at her, her tear-streaked face breaking my heart even further. She pulled me into her arms, crying softly into my hair.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with anguish. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you. To us. I am so sorry for everything.”

Her embrace was warm, comforting, but it only made the ache in my chest grow.

I pulled back slightly, wiping at my tear-streaked face as I turned my gaze to my father. He sat slumped on the floor, his head hung low, one hand pressed against his ribs where the men had kicked him. Blood smeared his lip, and his once-proud frame now looked small and broken.

“How much?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

My father’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes meeting mine. “What?”

“How much do you owe them?” I repeated, my voice gaining strength.

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to my mother before dropping back to the floor.

“Half a million,” he mumbled, barely audible.

The air left my lungs, my head spinning. “Half a million?” I repeated, my voice incredulous.

He nodded, shame written all over his face.

I closed my eyes, trying to process the staggering amount. It wasn’t just an impossible debt, it was a death sentence.

“What did you even do with that kind of money?” I demanded, anger rising in my chest. “How do you lose half a million dollars?”

My father’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. “I… I was trying to win,” he muttered.

“Win?” I echoed, disbelief dripping from my tone. “You gambled it?”

He didn’t answer, but the guilt in his expression was answer enough.

“I was trying to win more,” he said finally, his voice defensive. “Two million. I thought I could double it for your mother’s treatment.”

“Unbelievable,” I hissed, shaking my head. The words poured out of me before I could stop them. “You thought gambling away half a million dollars would fix things? Are you fucking insane? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

My mother reached for him, her eyes filled with disappointment and pain. “You risked everything,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Our home. Our family. Everything. And for what? A stupid dream?”

“I didn’t mean for it to get this bad,” he said, his voice trembling. “I just… I wanted to help.”

“Help?” I snapped, my anger boiling over. “Do you even hear yourself? You’ve destroyed us! You’ve put Mom’s life in danger, your life, my life! Of all the people you had to meet, you met a mafia Don for money. Everyone in Beldova knows that's like signing a contract…with a FUCKING DEVIL!!”

I screamed in anger.

He looked away, unable to meet my glare.

“You don’t think!” I yelled, my chest heaving with rage. “You’ve never thought about anyone but yourself! Your gambling has always been more important than us. And now, because of you, I’m supposed to… to sell myself to that man just to save your sorry ass?”

“Aria, please…” my mother began, her voice shaky.

I turned to her, my tears spilling over again. “He gambled away half a million dollars, Mom! How could he?”

My father opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Don’t. Just don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence. My mother’s sobs filled the void, her face buried in her hands as the reality of our situation sank in.

I sat back against the wall, my knees pulled to my chest, my head resting against them. My father’s broken figure sat across from me, his shame written all over his face, but it did little to quell my anger.

Two days.

Two days and I faced two options.

Death or slave.

I closed my eyes, the tears streaming down my cheeks as despair clawed at my insides.

No one knew the truth.

No one knew I only had six months left to live.

What else could I do?

Chapter 4

The hospital bill came in just a few hours after my father was admitted.

The number printed on the paper might as well have been a death sentence. I clutched it in my trembling hands, my eyes wide as I stared at the bottom line.

$10,000.

Just because I had no insurance.

Fucking hell.

I also had half a million dollars too to pay.

Even if I worked every day for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t be able to pay it off. I leaned against the corner of the emergency room, watching the steady rise and fall of my father’s chest as he lay in the hospital bed, tubes running into his arms.

The nurses had been kind enough, offering warm smiles and gentle reassurances, but I could see the pity in their eyes. They knew. They’d seen this story before, a family drowning in debt, scraping the bottom of the barrel just to keep their heads above water.

My throat tightened, and my hands shook as I squeezed the paper, crumpling it into a ball. There was no way out of this.

No savings to pull from, no relatives to call for help.

My father had gambled away every bit of security we’d ever had, and now this mountain of debt loomed over us like a crushing weight.

“I’m sorry, Aria,” my father croaked from the bed, his voice hoarse and weak. His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine with a look of shame that only fueled my anger.

“Sorry?” I hissed, my voice sharp and cutting. “You’re sorry? Do you think that fixes this?”

He flinched, his hand twitching as he tried to reach for me. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I thought I could win it back… for your mother.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and hollow. “Win it back? You lost half a million dollars gambling, and you thought you’d fix it by gambling more?”

“I was trying to help!” he snapped, his voice breaking under the strain.

“Help?” I shouted, my fists clenched at my sides. “You call this help? Look at where we are! You’ve destroyed us!”

Tears welled in his eyes, and for a moment, he looked utterly defeated. “I never wanted this for you,” he whispered. “I never wanted you to suffer because of my mistakes.”

I turned away, unable to bear the sight of him. My chest heaved with the weight of my anger and despair, the two emotions tangling together until I couldn’t separate them.

“And Dominic De Luca?” I asked, my voice low and trembling. “What about him?”

My father’s face paled further, his hands clutching the edge of the blanket. “He’s not just anyone,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s… he’s dangerous, Aria. A mafia boss. The kind of man who doesn’t forgive, doesn’t forget.”

The words sent a chill down my spine. Of course. Of course, my father would owe money to the most dangerous man in the city.

I stared at the crumpled bill in my hand, my heart pounding. The realization hit me like a freight train: there was no way out. Not without help.

---

We left the hospital that night with nowhere to go. The nurses had been kind, but the administration wasn’t. No insurance, no money, no service. The moment they realized I couldn’t pay the bill, they practically pushed us out the door.

Days later, our landlord followed suit, locking us out of the apartment with no warning. The little money I had left went toward food and a few blankets, but it wasn’t enough.

So here we were, huddled under a bridge on the edge of the city. The wind howled through the concrete pillars, biting through my thin jacket as I sat on the ground. My father lay beside me, his face pale and drawn as he clutched at his side. He was getting worse.

And my mother? She wouldn’t survive much longer without proper care.

I couldn’t let this continue.

My fingers brushed against the edge of the card Dominic had thrown at my feet. It was still in my pocket, the sleek black surface cold against my skin. I pulled it out, staring at the name printed in gold letters.

Dominic De Luca.

He was the devil, and this card was his pact. I could feel it, the weight of the choice pressing down on me.

If I called him, it would change everything.

There would be no going back.

But what other choice did I have?

I clenched my jaw, my resolve hardening as I pulled out my phone. The screen was cracked, the battery nearly dead, but it would have to do. I dialed the number, my hands trembling as I held the phone to my ear.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then, his voice came through the line, smooth and dangerous. “Aria.”

I froze, the sound of my name sending a shiver down my spine. How did he know it was me?

“I…” My voice wavered. I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “I’ll do it.”

Silence hung heavy between us, and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again. “Good girl. I’ll send a car.”

The line went dead.

I sat there for a moment, clutching the phone in my hand, the reality of what I’d just done sinking in. My heart pounded in my chest, my stomach twisting with nausea.

I had just sold myself to the devil.

*****

The private lounge at Dominic De Luca’s mansion was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single chandelier reflecting off the polished marble floor. A small poker table sat at the center, cluttered with cards and a neat pile of chips.

Dominic sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his sharp eyes scanning the cards in his hand. His movements were deliberate, his demeanor cold and calculated, the very picture of control.

Across from him, Nico "The Snake" Renaldi shuffled his own cards with an annoying smirk plastered on his face. Lean and wiry, Nico thrived on chaos, and tonight was no different. Every joke, every smirk, was designed to needle at Dominic, to push his buttons just enough to get a reaction.

Beside Nico sat Julian De Luca, Dominic’s younger brother and his polar opposite. Where Dominic was cold and methodical, Julian was carefree, lighthearted, and more than a little reckless. He leaned back in his chair, spinning a poker chip between his fingers as if the game didn’t matter to him in the slightest.

“Raise,” Nico said, sliding a pile of chips to the center of the table. His grin widened as he met Dominic’s steely gaze. “Come on, Dom. I know that look. You’ve got nothing.”

Dominic didn’t respond, his face unreadable as he placed his own chips into the pot. His focus remained on the game, ignoring Nico’s attempts to provoke him.

Julian snorted, shaking his head. “Nico, you never learn, do you? Pissing off Dominic isn’t a game you want to play.”

“Oh, but it is,” Nico shot back, his grin growing wider. “It’s my favorite game, actually.”

Dominic remained silent, his dark eyes flicking to Julian for a moment before returning to his cards.

“Call,” he said simply, sliding in more chips.

Before the next round could begin, Dominic’s phone buzzed on the table, vibrating against the polished wood. All three men glanced at it.

Nico raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Who’s that?”

“No one,” Dominic replied coldly, picking up the phone and slipping it back into his pocket without so much as a glance.

Julian chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “No one, huh?” His tone was teasing, his smile mischievous. “Funny, because I’ve never seen you take a call from ‘no one.’”

Nico’s grin widened, his sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Come on, Dom. Spill. Who was it?”

“I said no one,” Dominic repeated, his tone clipped.

Julian, however, wasn’t about to let it go. “It’s his new toy,” he said, a laugh bubbling in his throat. “That little dancer from De Stone, right?”

Dominic’s sharp glare shot across the table, silencing Julian for all of a second before he burst into laughter.

“Oh, come on,” Julian said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me like that, Dom. You can’t expect me not to notice. You’ve been watching her for weeks. I didn’t think you’d actually make a move, though.”

“I didn’t make a move,” Dominic said flatly, his voice low and dangerous.

“Sure, sure,” Julian said, waving him off. “You just... happened to get her number and take her on as a project. Totally innocent.”

Nico leaned back in his chair, his grin practically splitting his face. “I’m shocked, honestly. Dominic De Luca, king of the underworld, getting all soft over a girl? What’s next? Flowers and love letters?”

Dominic’s gaze darkened, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “She’s not a toy,” he said, his voice quiet but laced with enough menace to make both men hesitate.

Julian raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the seriousness in Dominic’s tone, but before he could respond, the door to the lounge opened.

A figure appeared in the doorway, her silhouette sharp and commanding.

“Victoria’s here,” one of Dominic’s men announced, his voice stiff with formality.

The room went silent, all eyes turning to the door as Victoria Romano stepped inside.

Dominic’s expression didn’t change, but a flicker annoyance? Amusement?, crossed his dark eyes as he leaned back in his chair, watching her approach.

This was going to be interesting.

Chapter 5

Aria's POV

Medications.

Even if it seems I may not need them.

Clothes... was there any use?

I sighed, staring at the small duffel bag on the bed. My hands hovered over it, hesitating. Everything felt surreal, like I was standing outside my own body, watching someone else prepare for a life I never wanted.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. My mother’s muffled sobs carried from the living room, each sound slicing into me like a knife. I tightened my grip on the bag, my chest constricting as I tried to block it out.

A knock at the door broke through my thoughts.

“Come in,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible.

The door creaked open, and Lila stepped inside. Her wide, concerned eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

“I heard,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.

I forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “Of course you did. Nothing stays quiet for long around here.”

Lila crossed the room quickly, pulling me into a tight hug. Her arms were warm and steady, a brief anchor in the chaos swirling around me.

“Aria, you don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “We’ll figure something out. There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” I said, pulling back to meet her gaze. “I’ve gone through every option, Lila. This is the only way to keep them alive.”

Tears glistened in her eyes as she shook her head. “But at what cost? You’re—”

“I’ll be fine,” I interrupted, my voice firm despite the crack forming in it. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded reluctantly.

I walked to the nightstand and picked up a small notebook, pressing it into her hands. “These are the instructions for my mom’s medications and appointments. I’ve already called the pharmacy to set up refills, and there’s a list of numbers in case of emergencies.”

Lila stared at the notebook, her lips trembling. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“I have to,” I said, my voice softening. “If I don’t… no one else will.”

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the distant sound of my mother’s cries.

“I don’t want to leave her like this,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “But I don’t have a choice.”

“She knows,” Lila said, her voice gentle. “She knows you’re doing this for her. For all of them.”

I nodded, though the weight of guilt remained firmly in place.

Lila stepped back, tucking the notebook under her arm. “I’ll take care of her,” she promised. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

My gaze shifted to the living room, where my mother sat curled on the couch, her frail body shaking with sobs. I took a step toward her, then stopped, unsure if I could bear to see her like that.

My father was sprawled on the floor nearby, an empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. His face was slack, his body limp, his snores filling the silence between my mother’s cries.

Shame coursed through me as I stared at him. He was supposed to be the strong one, the protector. But now, he was just a shell, drowning in guilt and alcohol.

I turned away, swallowing the lump in my throat as I zipped the duffel bag closed.

“Aria…” Lila began, her voice hesitant.

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, cutting her off. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t. But that didn’t matter anymore.

Bag in hand, I walked to the front door, my footsteps heavy and deliberate. Lila followed close behind, her presence steady but silent.

The night air hit me like a wave as I stepped outside, the cool breeze stinging my skin. I adjusted the strap of the bag on my shoulder, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

Behind me, Lila lingered in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

“I’ll call,” I said, though we both knew I wouldn’t.

She nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Be careful, Aria.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned and started walking, the sound of my boots echoing softly on the pavement. The street was quiet, the world around me eerily still.

But as I neared the corner, a faint sound caught my attention.

Heaving.

I froze, my pulse quickening as the noise grew louder, more distinct.

My grip on the bag tightened, my eyes scanning the shadows ahead.

Someone was there.

Perkins.

He stumbled out of the shadows, his hair disheveled and his expression wild. For a moment, I thought he might be drunk, but as he drew closer, the gleam in his eyes was as sharp and calculating.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped, my voice trembling.

Seeing him brought out the root of my anger.

Of my pain.

“Aria,” he said, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “Just hear me out.”

“Leave,” Lila said, stepping in front of me protectively. Her voice was sharp, her posture tense. “You’ve done enough.”

Perkins ignored her, his gaze fixed on me. “I heard,” he said, his tone light, almost casual. “About what’s happening with your family. Tough break.”

I stiffened, my grip on the duffel bag tightening.

Lila didn’t miss a beat. “What the hell do you care?” she spat. “You don’t give a damn about her or her family. Just crawl back to whatever hole you came out of or better still the so called pussy that you can’t seem to get yiur dick out from.”

Perkins scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Look, I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?” I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief.

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, his tone completely devoid of sincerity. “I mean, not for the cheating thing. That’s in the past, right? But for… you know, being a little cold earlier.”

Lila’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now?” she hissed.

Perkins ignored her again, stepping closer to me. “Aria, you’ve got connections now, don’t you?” he said, his voice lowering as if we were sharing some kind of secret. “I mean, the guy you’re going to… he’s got power, right? Maybe you could… I don’t know, put in a good word for me. Get me some work or something.”

I blinked, my mind struggling to process the audacity of his words. “You want me to… help you?”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “I mean, we had something, didn’t we? You owe me that much. I mean I had to deal with your mess.”

I scoffed, “My…mess?”

“I didn't mean it like that Aria…but you know.”

I chuckled, “Okay…I will give you help.”

One that's long been over due.

I swung the duffel bag before I could think, the heavy weight of it connecting with his smug face with a satisfying thud.

“You arrogant piece of shit!” I shouted, my voice shaking with fury.

He stumbled back, clutching his face. “What the hell, Aria?”

Before he could recover, Lila was on him, shoving him hard toward the curb. “Get out of here!” she screamed, her voice ringing through the quiet street. “You’re pathetic, Perkins! Pathetic!”

He tripped over the curb, landing in an undignified heap on the sidewalk.

“You’re crazy!” he shouted, glaring up at us as he scrambled to his feet.

“Leave!” I screamed, the sound raw and furious, echoing in the still night. “Before I burst your balls with my heels.”

Perkins hesitated for a moment, his face twisting with anger, but he must have realized he wasn’t going to win this. With a muttered curse, he turned and stumbled away, disappearing into the shadows.

I stood there, my chest heaving, the duffel bag still clenched tightly in my hand.

“Are you okay?” Lila asked, her voice softening as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

Before I could answer, a low, smooth voice cut through the night.

“Are you Aria Montel?”

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.

An expensive car I hadn’t noticed before was parked at the curb, its dark, sleek frame gleaming under the streetlights. A man in a perfectly tailored suit stood beside it, his posture rigid, his face unreadable.

“I… I am,” I said hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper.

The man nodded once, stepping forward to open the back door of the car. “The Don awaits you.”

I froze, my feet rooted to the ground as I gulped.

The Don.

Dominic De Luca.

Lila’s grip tightened on my arm, her silent presence grounding me. But even her strength couldn’t stop the cold fear that crawled up my spine.

The goosebumps that filled my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward.

Chapter 6

To be owned by a man.

The thought haunted me as the sleek black car glided through the city, its interior silent except for the faint hum of the engine. The leather seat beneath me was cold, stiff, reminding me with every second that I was heading toward a life I didn’t want.

The driver hadn’t said a word, his stoic face illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard.

I kept my eyes on the window, watching as the familiar streets gave way to an unfamiliar path.

The neighborhoods grew quieter, the buildings larger, grander, until we turned into a long, winding driveway lined with towering trees.

When the mansion came into view, my breath caught.

It wasn’t just a house, it was a fortress. The sprawling structure loomed against the evening sky, its dark brick exterior lit by the soft glow of ornate lanterns that lined the driveway. Ivy climbed the walls, adding an air of timelessness to the dark tall building.

The windows were massive, glowing faintly with golden light, hinting at the luxury within.

The car came to a stop in front of the double doors, massive and arched, made of dark wood and flanked by stone columns.

I swallowed hard, my palms damp as the driver stepped out and opened my door.

“Miss Montel,” he said, his voice low, clipped.

I hesitated, my legs refusing to move.

“Miss Montel,” he repeated, a little firmer this time.

Taking a shaky breath, I stepped out, my boots clicking against the stone driveway. The doors opened before I could reach them, and two men in suits stepped aside to let me in.

The inside was as breathtaking as the outside.

The foyer was massive, its marble floors gleaming under the glow of a crystal chandelier that hung like a crown above us. A staircase spiraled upward, its railing ornate, gold-tipped. Every detail screamed wealth—no, power.

“Right this way,” one of the men said, his tone curt as he gestured toward a hall to the left.

I followed, my heart pounding as we moved through the space. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, the air filled with the faint scent of leather and whiskey. We stopped in front of another set of double doors. One of the men knocked twice before pushing them open.

The room was warm and dimly lit, the fire crackling in a stone hearth on one side. The air was thick with smoke, not unpleasant, but heavy.

Dominic De Luca sat at the far end of the room, his legs stretched out casually as he leaned back in a high-backed leather chair. He wore a dark, unbuttoned shirt that clung to his chest, revealing the hint of tattoos curling up his collarbone. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing thick, muscled forearms.

When he saw me, a slow smirk curved his lips.

“Aria Montel,” he drawled, his voice smooth and deep, the kind that seemed to crawl under your skin and stay there.

My legs felt like lead as I stepped inside, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place. He looked at me like he owned the room—like he owned everything in it, including me.

“Welcome,” he said, gesturing toward the chair across from him.

I hesitated.

“Sit,” he added, his tone firmer this time.

I sank into the chair, my hands clutching the strap of my bag as I tried to steady my breathing.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. The firelight danced across his sharp features, the shadows accentuating the hard line of his jaw, the curve of his smirk.

“You’re nervous,” he observed, his eyes scanning my face.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice betraying me with a slight quiver.

His smirk widened. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Aria.”

I clenched my jaw, willing myself to hold his gaze.

“And what do you know about me?” I asked, my voice firmer this time.

“Absolutely nothing…if I want you to believe that.”

I frowned. “State what you want, sir.”

Dominic tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Straight to the point. I like that.” He leaned back, his arm draping over the side of the chair as he studied me. “You know why you’re here and please don't call me sir.”

“Okay,” I said, my throat tight.

“I was thinking you would run away,,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “you came anyway.”

I didn’t respond.

He chuckled, low and rich. “You’re interesting, Aria. You know the stakes. Even if you did. I would find you. I will catch you. And I will deal with you..”

I bristled at the condescension in his tone but bit my tongue.

Dominic’s gaze flicked to the bag in my lap. “Planning on running away now?”

“No,” I snapped, heat rising to my cheeks. “I thought I’d be staying here.”

His grin deepened. “Oh, you will.”

The door behind me opened, and a man stepped inside, carrying a thick envelope in his hand. He placed it on the table between us before stepping back and disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Dominic’s gaze never left mine as he gestured toward the envelope.

“Read it,” he said simply.

I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I reached for the envelope. The paper felt heavy in my hands, its weight a tangible reminder of the decision I was about to make. I opened it slowly, pulling out the crisp document inside.

The words blurred at first, the weight of the situation pressing on me so hard I could barely breathe.

“Go on,” Dominic said, his tone calm, almost amused.

I forced myself to focus, scanning the text. It was a contract, detailed and precise. My stomach churned as I read the terms:

Five months of complete sexual availability.

Accompanying Dominic to events, dinners, and meetings.

Performing private dances for him and, occasionally, his most trusted men.

Absolute obedience.

The phrasing was clinical, cold. But the meaning behind the words was clear: I was to become his possession, his plaything, his whore.

In exchange, the debt would be erased.

“Five months,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

“That’s right,” Dominic said, leaning back in his chair. “Five months of your life, and your family walks away free and clear. No debts, no danger.”

I glanced up at him, my chest tightening with anger and despair.

He was watching me intently, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He knew he had me cornered.

“And if I say no?” I asked, though the words felt hollow.

Dominic’s smirk widened. “Then you already know the answer to that. Your father’s debt doesn’t just disappear, Aria. Someone will pay it—one way or another. And it's gonna be bad. I am being nice by actually giving you a contract and a lee way out.”

My hands gripped the contract tightly, my knuckles white.

“You’re asking me to give up everything,” I said, my voice breaking.

“I’m offering you a way out,” Dominic corrected, his tone firm. “Five months, Aria. That’s all I’m asking. After that, you’re free to go.”

Free to go.

The words felt like a cruel joke.

I looked back at the contract, my heart sinking deeper with every word I read. This was my life now, a life I hadn’t chosen, a life I couldn’t escape.

I thought of my mother, frail and crying on the couch. Of my father, passed out in a drunken stupor, too ashamed to face what he’d done. They needed me.

But I couldn’t ignore the other truth, the one that loomed over me like a dark shadow.

Five months.

I had six months to live.

Before that time would be up, I might already be dead.