Chapter 9 It's now or never
Lina’s POV
I won't be fazed—staying down without fighting back, trembling like a scared mouse.
No maid had been seen since I arrived in this house. Night had already fallen, and I had made no progress at all. My thoughts caved inward, trapping me in a cage of my own making. The bed beneath me offered no comfort. If anything, my body itched against its softness, as though it rejected rest. I tossed restlessly, clinging to the illusion of comfort where none existed.
“I told you to leave him alone. ”My mother’s voice cut through the void. “That man will be the end of you one day. Mark my words.” Her warning echoed.
Followed by another voice—just as familiar, just as unforgiving. “He has nothing to offer you but pain. Let this unhealthy relationship leave your life so you can grow—mentally, emotionally, in every way. Or you will drown in it. And it will destroy you.”
The words surrounded me, pressing in from all sides.
“Mom?” I called out.
No answer came. Only darkness. Only my voice, hollow and alone, echoing back at me.
I took a step forward—and suddenly the ground vanished beneath my feet.
My eyes flew open.
The pain was sharp, immediate, real—as real as a blade against flesh.
It was only a dream.
I sat upright, burying my face in my hands, breathing hard. Regret weighed heavy in my chest. If I had listened—truly listened—to my friends, to the warnings they begged me to heed, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be stripped of my freedom.
I inhaled slowly, counting each breath. In. Out. Again.
I still had a choice. No matter what my mind whispered, the choice remained.
Stay. Submit.
Or find a way out.
I chose the latter.
Sliding off the bed, I moved toward the door. It opened without a sound, yielding easily beneath my hand. I stepped into the hallway, knowing I needed to learn this place if escape was ever going to be possible.
The moment I emerged, I stopped beneath a towering chandelier, its crystal arms glittering faintly in the low light. I lifted my gaze, taking in everything at once. There was no way I could explore the entire estate in a single night. And who knew what—or who—I might encounter along the way?
Still, hesitation would only keep me trapped.
It’s now or never.
Whoever designed this place had clearly despised comfort. As I stepped farther into the hall, the corridor stretched endlessly in both directions, guided by dim wall lamps—each one expensive enough to buy a small country. The air smelled faintly of polish… and something darker beneath it. Leather, maybe. Or secrets.
I picked left. No reason. The left just felt less judgmental.
The first door I tested opened easily.
Inside was a bedroom—unused, pristine, untouched. The bed was perfectly made, like no one had ever dared to sleep in it. I walked in, scanned quickly.
No windows. Of course.
The second room was… a gym.
I blinked.
Who needs this many machines? Were these men training for war or auditioning to become Greek statues? I crept past a row of weights that looked heavy enough to crush my entire existence. One wrong move and I’d die buried under dumbbells. I held my breath until I was out.
The third room—
I froze.
A glass cabinet lined the wall. Inside it were guns. Not one. Not two. A collection. Sleek, black, silver, some with engravings. They were displayed like art. I stared at them, my mouth dry.
Right. Definitely in the Mafia King’s house.
I backed out slowly, reminding myself that breathing was important.
The next door led to what looked like a library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves. Leather chairs. A fireplace. It was… beautiful. Almost normal. I ran my fingers over the spines of the books as I passed. History. Politics. Strategy.
No romance. Figures.
I crossed to the far end—and my heart leaped.
A window.
I rushed to it, peering outside. Freedom glimmered beyond manicured gardens and iron gates taller than my hopes. I tried the latch.
Locked. Naturally.
I sighed and turned—only to nearly scream.
A statue stood in the corner.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, heart slamming violently against my ribs. It was marble. Just marble. A man carved mid-stride, expression cold and commanding. It was Carlino.
Even his statue here was intimidating. I slipped back into the hallway, forcing myself to stay calm. Panic would get me caught. Or killed. Or both.
As I crept deeper into the mansion, the decor changed. Less elegance. More… menace. The lights dimmed. The walls darkened. The silence thickened, broken only by the low hum of electricity and distant murmurs of voices farther.
Farther?
I frowned.
Then I saw it.
The corridor spiraled downward, disappearing into shadows. The air from there was cooler, heavier. I hesitated at first.
But if I wanted an exit, it wouldn’t be upstairs with the guest bedrooms and decorative trauma. I took a breath and walked deeper into the shadows.
Each step echoed softly, and I cursed the architect in my head. Who builds echoing corridors in a criminal headquarters?
I came to a stop. A door stood tall, thick, intimidating, like every other thing I have come in contact with. Muffled voices came from behind the door. I dared to open it, the space opened up into something vast.
Stone walls curved naturally, lit by recessed lights that cast long shadows. Screens covered one wall—security feeds, maps, numbers I didn’t understand. Tables held files, weapons, and devices I couldn’t name without accidentally joining a watchlist.
The Mafia King’s lair.
I swallowed.
And then I heard the voices, clearer this time. I froze behind the pillar, pressing myself into the stone like I could become part of it. I peeped in to see what they were doing.
“Padrone,” Damien’s voice broke the silence, cautious, almost pleading. “How could you approve an election? You’ve never—”
“Never what?” Carlino cut in, sharp, controlled. His hand brushed the edge of the desk, fingers spread like claws. “Never let the council have their say?”
“No… but you don’t need their approval. You’re the Don,” Damien said. “The throne—”
Carlino hummed, slow, deliberate. “The throne is mine, yes. But this family… it isn’t built on one man’s pride alone. The council watches every move, Damien. They notice hesitation. They notice dissent. And if I ignore them, the cracks appear—small at first, but enough to fracture the empire from within.”
Damien frowned. “So this election… to choose a Donna… it’s necessary?”
“Necessary?” Carlino’s voice was low, almost amused. “No. But it’s convenient. They wanted a decision. They wanted to feel the weight of influence. Let them think they steer the course while I sit above it. The election placates them, gives them a distraction, and buys time.”
“A distraction?” Damien’s frustration crept in. “But a Donna… that’s no small matter. If they oppose you, if—”
“They oppose?” Carlino’s eyes glinted, unreadable. “Let them argue. Let them fight over it. I’m not interested in a Donna, Damien. Never was. This election is theirs to consume, to exhaust themselves over. I approve it because the council will settle itself through debate, not because I need it.”
I pressed my back harder against the wall, trying to steady my racing heart. The words cut through the room, sharper than knives.
“You’re playing with fire, Padrone,” Damien muttered. “Letting them vote, letting them argue…”
“Let them,” Carlino said softly, then louder, commanding, each syllable deliberate. “The family thinks it has power. It thinks it decides. But in the end, it is still mine to manage. The throne is mine, unchallenged, and this election merely… entertains them.”
“What if the majority wants you to have a Donna?” Damien questioned.
“I am not biased.” That was simply the answer he gave.
I exhaled slowly, letting a shiver run down my spine. Carlino turned, his smirk faint, dangerous, like a storm waiting to break.
“And now,” he said, his tone carrying a rare edge of mischief, “we will take Lina to the election. Let her see the council squabble, consumed by their own rules, while I watch untouched.”
My stomach sank. My name. They were talking about me. I pressed myself flatter against the wall, heart hammering.