Captured And Claimed By The Mafia Don

Kimberley POV:

"You can't just fire me, sir. I've done so much for this company!" I shouted, my voice shaking with disbelief.

Yes, I'd made a mistake...or so they said, but fire me? Just like that? It didn't make sense.

"Do you even understand what you've done?" My boss's voice dropped, cold and sharp. "Kimberley, you leaked our company's secret formula to our top competitor."!

"What?!" I gasped. "That's not true! I would never! "

"You can deny it all you want," he cut in. "I should've called the police. But considering the years we've worked together, and your past record, I'm offering you an alternative." He shoved a file across the desk.

My eyes flickered to the paper inside, dreading what it might say. The figure on the page stopped my breath. $4,500. Damages.

"I didn't do this!" I protested. "This is a mistake! someone's framing me!"

"Shut your mouth!" a voice rang out.

Magret, my boss's wife, stormed in. Before I could react, she slapped me so hard that my vision blurred.

"You think you can lie your way out of this?" Magret hissed, thrusting a tablet at me.

The footage showed me at a restaurant, talking to a man I didn't know. But the camera didn't care. It only saw me with our competitor's production manager.

"This isn't what it looks like," I stammered. "I didn't know him-I was meeting my friend and colleague, Elicia!"

"Let's bring her in then," my boss said.

A few minutes later, Elicia walked in. Only her could clear this up.

"Eli, tell them," I pleaded. "You invited me to that restaurant."

Elicia blinked. "Yeah... but I also messaged you to change the location. Maybe you didn't check your phone."

"What? No!" I scrambled for my phone, but the messages were gone. Deleted.

Magret sneered. "Pathetic."

My boss leaned back. "Kimberley, either pay the $50,000 or face fifteen years in prison. Your choice."

I couldn't breathe. I had no money. I'd never survive prison.

I got home after what seem like eternity. I met my father on the couch and for the first time, he didn't reek alcohol.

His face, drawn and pitiful, it Reminded me of how hard he had tried to raise me alone since Mom disappeared. Despite his drinking, his gambling, all his failures-he had done everything in his power to make me happy. But none of that mattered now, because here I was: "A failure. A disappointment."

I couldn't bear it.

He didn't even notice my presence, so I simply slipped past him and retreated to my room. As soon as the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto the bed, curling into myself like a child. The weight of the day pressed down on me, suffocating.

I let the tears come, hot and relentless, pouring out every ounce of frustration, and helplessness I had been holding back. I cried until my body was exhausted to feel anything but an empty, aching numbness.

Hours later, My father came into my room and sat on the bed , his face drawn and hollow, like the weight of the world had crushed him beneath it.

"Kimberley, baby..." He called softly.

"Dad..." I whispered back, and to my surprise, the tears came rushing back. I sobbed against his chest like I do when I was little. His hands rubbed my back gently.

"I want you to know, baby," he whispered, "that no matter what happens, everything's gonna be okay."

I pulled back, wiping my face, my heart hammering with the unspoken weight behind his words.

"There's something you need to know..."

He paused, and for a long, dreadful moment, the air between us was suffocatingly thick.

"I'm sorry, Kimberley. I've made mistakes... mistakes that will haunt us for a long time."

I swallowed hard. "What is it, Dad?"

He hesitated, his eyes flickering with a fear I had never seen before.

"I'm wanted," he whispered, so quietly it was almost lost in the silence.

"Wanted?" My voice cracked. "By the police? What did you do?"

"No." He exhaled a long, weary sigh. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

Before he could continue, a deafening bang ripped through the air. My father's body jerked. His eyes widened in shock, and a sickening gurgle came from his throat.

I froze. For a second, I didn't understand. Then, I saw it: blood, dark and warm, oozing from his mouth, splattering onto the floor.

"No!" I screamed, my voice ragged as I lunged forward, catching his collapsing body in my arms. His weight sagged against me, and my trembling hands felt the slick warmth of blood spreading across his back.

"Papa, no! Stay with me! You can't leave me all alone." I begged, shaking him.

But his breathing turned shallow.

The wound on his back was a - He has been shot!

As if answering my internal question, a masked figure appeared from the shadows. A man, face covered by a mask, a gun still smoking in his hand.

His eyes locked onto mine, cold and empty. He lowered the gun and moved toward me.

He was close now-too close. My pulse raced, but my feet felt rooted to the floor. Before I could react, pain exploded in my arm. A sharp, stinging sensation.

I gasped, my body jerking back instinctively. My vision blurred as the room began to spin. Panic surged through me, but I couldn't fight it.

I felt his hands on me, lifting me like I weighed nothing, slinging me over his shoulder. My limbs were heavy, useless. I tried to struggle, to resist, but my body wouldn't respond.

I had been injected. Something cold and foreign was coursing through my veins, draining every ounce of strength I had.

As my consciousness slipped away, I realised with chilling certainty that I was completely at the mercy of my father's killer

Kimberley POV:

I opened my eyes to find myself in a strange room. Dark but surprisingly well ventilated. It took me time to adjust to the new environment, I finally did but,..

Where am I? My pulse quickened. Suddenly, Memories of yesterday rushed in like a flood.

"My father!"

I wanted to scream, but my voice caught in my throat. Then, I heard it-a deep, commanding voice cutting through the stillness.

"Never! Never do more than I send you!"

"Who is that?" I held my breath, straining to listen.

"He was proving stubborn... getting in my way." Another voice, shaky yet defiant, wavered as if someone were being choked.

Their conversation was muffled, words bouncing around like distorted whispers. Something about "D'Bon"... and "go ahead." But I couldn't fathom it.

"I never asked you to kill him!" The first voice rumbled with anger. Silence followed, thick and unbearable.

A sickening thud echoed, followed by a sharp hiss that made my neck prickle.

"Bury him," the voice commanded coldly.

Fear surged through my veins, my hands trembling. Panic tightened its grip around my chest.

"Slave trade..." The thought slithered into my mind, unbidden. I had read about it-mafias dealing in human trafficking. Was this how my life would end? Reduced to a number, a transaction, someone's property?

After what felt like ages, the doorknob twisted, the sound echoing in the silence.

A man entered, his eyes sweeping over me like I was an object to be appraised. His gaze locked on mine, cold and expressionless. I felt the heat of my anger.

"Bastard," I spat.

"Stand up." His voice was steady, dangerous.

"For what? Take me back to my father!"

"There's no time for this. Even Cinderella had a deadline. Follow me before you make things worse for yourself."

"Worse? Can anything be worse than this?" I asked sarcastically.

"Now," he commanded.

"No." My defiance echoed in the room.

He moved toward me, the steps calculating like the one from the night before, the memory is rushing back, is this trauma or something?

Suddenly, he lifted me and started moving towards the door.

I remember that feeling, "he carried me... I wanted to scream... but I couldn't, I was weak!

I didn't even try screaming anymore, I sank my sharp teeth in his neck, like a vampire ready to suck some sweet blood.

He hissed, then threw me to the floor. I landed hard, but a brief moment of triumph surged through me until a sharp slap landed across my face.

My ears rang. Tears welled in my eyes. His nails had left a tear on my cheek-likely to scar.

"Follow me," he repeated, voice harsh and unforgiving.

This time, I obeyed.

We stepped out of the building. A car was already waiting. The monster who had stopped me earlier accompanied me as we entered the vehicle. The driver silently drove off.

The landscape was serene and breathtaking, the kind only the ultra-wealthy could afford. It was a view to admire, but fear churned in my gut, my mind spinning with possibilities of what awaited me.

When the car finally stopped, it was in front of a huge mansion. I couldn't help but marvel at its grandeur. Majestic and intimidating-it was a palace for the powerful, not a place for someone like me.

"Get down," the man beside me growled.

Inside, luxury deepened, every detail designed to intimidate.

"Mo?" the man I now recognized as 'Beast' called out sharply.

A small woman appeared almost instantly, bowing slightly.

"Yes, sire?"

Her eyes flicked toward me but she lowered it instantly.

"Prepare her. Don's coming tonight," he said curtly, then disappeared down a hallway.

I swallowed hard. "Don?"

The woman was quiet and efficient, her expression a locked door. There was something about her-like even with a knife at her throat, she wouldn't betray a word. So I let her do what was needed.

Soon, I was dressed in a modest knee-length gown. The perfume she sprayed over me was cloying. My skin crawled with each spritz.

"If this Don thinks I'm going to be his plaything, he's in for a shock." The defiance burned in my chest but was laced with dread.

She led me to a dining room. A lavish spread awaited on the table, but my eyes landed on the man sitting at the head. The Don.

He sat with perfect posture, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders. His sharp features and cold, piercing eyes gave him an air of quiet dominance, as if he controlled the room without uttering a word.

He looked up, his cold gaze meeting mine. "Join me," he said flatly, gesturing toward the seat across from him.

I crossed my arms, standing my ground. "Who are you?"

For a moment, he just looked at me, then returned to his plate, scooping scrambled eggs onto his fork. "Your master," he said nonchalantly, as if that settled everything.

"I'm not sitting. And I'm certainly not eating." My voice rose, fueled by anger and desperation. "If you think you can just abduct me and make me your sex slave, you can go to hell!"

He stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the floor. With measured steps, he walked toward me, his presence suffocating.

His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "You're in my domain, and I rule here. I am the master, and I make the decisions. Don't dare defy me."

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. His voice was the same one I'd heard earlier that day.

He moved closer, reaching for the food, urging me to open my mouth. I turned away defiantly. But that's when he noticed it.

The bruise.

For the first time, I saw his expression shift into something I couldn't decipher.

Leonardo POV:

I gently brushed a strand of her deep, red hair away, its softness warm beneath my fingertips. I couldn't help but wonder how much care it took to keep it that way. My gaze softened as I looked at her-unchanged from six years ago.

How could she forget? Forget that she was the one who had pulled me from the brink of death.

My gaze darkened as I examined a tear marring her skin. It looked fresh, like a brand from a fire.

"Who did this to you?" I asked, my voice low and cold, surprising even myself with the intensity of my concern.

"Who did this to her Enzo?" I barked at my henchman, a muscle-bound guard I had assigned to keep an eye on her.

"She was stubborn, Don," he replied, his voice trembling slightly under my scrutiny.

The realisation hit me like a bullet-Enzo had laid his hands on her.

In a flash, I was at Enzo's side, pinning him against the wall with a force that reverberated through the room. "For the second time today, Enzo, you defied my order!" His action ignited something primal within me.

I knew Enzo would be surprised by my rage over a woman, but even I couldn't grasp the depths of my own feelings.

I heard her whimper softly as I tightened my grip on Enzo. "Such a weak one," I muttered under my breath, the words dripping with disdain.

"Why? Does it matter?" I heard her voice, defiant yet fragile, as I finally released Enzo but not without giving him a deadly glare-a silent promise of his impending punishment.

I turned back to her, brow furrowed, my expression a mask of authority. "I mean..." she continued, the bravado returning to her voice, "I'm less valuable now? With a scar, I'm worthless. So, maybe you can just take me back to my house?"

She pouted, the expression a mix of defiance and intelligence, "as if she could barter for her freedom with mere words."

But I beat her to it.

"You are right." I replied slowly, taking a deliberate step towards her, eyes narrowing as I watched her expression shift from triumph to uncertainty.

"Whether you're useful or not is for me to decide," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. I relished the way her smile faded, replaced by a flicker of fear.

"This is my domain. I am the master here, and I make the decisions." I stepped closer, the space between us crackling with tension. She needed to understand the hierarchy.

"I never asked to be in your goddamned domain," she shot back, her voice sharp and filled with rage.

"Take me back to my house!" she screamed, the defiance ringing in the air like a challenge.

My lips tightened, fury boiling within me. No one dared to raise their voice against me, let alone defy my orders.

"What is your name?" I asked, my anger barely restrained.

She rolled her eyes, turning away from me, dismissing my authority.

I slammed my hand on the table, the sound reverberating like a gunshot.

"I ask the questions here, and you answer! Is that understood?"

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, determined not to show weakness.

"Your name?" I demanded again.

"Kimberly," she replied quietly, almost defeated.

"Good." I poured myself a glass of juice, savouring the moment.

"Please let me go," she begged, her voice barely a whisper.

I looked at her, my gaze distant, as I took a slow sip. "You can go."...

"Don?..." I heard Enzo call from behind, concern etched in his features.

"Th... Thank you..." she gasped, turning to leave, hope blooming in her eyes.

"At the expense of your brother." I finished my statement, the weight of my words hanging in the air.

Kimberly stopped dead in her tracks, the shock evident on her face. "You know my brother?" she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

Enzo moved closer, showing her footage of her brother, doing rehearsals in lit studio.

"He has eyes on him," I told her, satisfaction curling my lips. I watched her demeanour shift, her bravado wilting as reality settled in.

I approached her, bending down to her level, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm your master, and you will listen to me." Each word dripped with authority.

"The moment you mess up, your brother dies."

As I turned to leave, I saw her sat back, dejected, as if the weight of my word had crushed her spirit.

Just as I reached the door, her voice sliced through the silence.

"My father... Did you even bury him?"

Her words hit me like a punch. "Did you even bury him?" Five simple words, but they tore through me like a storm.

I didn't let it show, as I ignored her question and made my leave.

******

I stood in front of my father, Anger building up inside me.

"Stop being ungrateful, Leonardo," my father's voice rang in my ears, firm yet calculated. "Everything I've done, I've done for you."

"Killed her father? How is that for me?" I shot back, anger boiling in my chest.

I clenched my fists, the familiar fire igniting. "You didn't have to kill him and put her through that!"

My father's eyes narrowed, his tone shifting to something more dangerous. "You think you know better than me? You think you can protect her on your own? They will come for her, and I hope you are ready."

"That's for me to worry about! Don't get involved in this," I warned, my voice low and threatening.

"The last time I didn't get involved, your mother died. You think I would make the same mistake?"

My face hardened, the mention of my mother reopening an old wound. We stood there, locked in a silent standoff, the tension thick enough to slice.

His words sank in like knives, my heart pounding. "That was different."

The threat was subtle, yet I felt its weight. Without another word, I turned and stormed out, the door slamming behind me, echoing my rage.!