The Mafia Boss's Pet Wife

Sophia

The days that followed the confrontation between Nathan and my stepfather were filled with tension, a strange kind of cold that lingered in the house. I felt like a fragile piece in the middle of a game of chess, and I wasn't sure who had the upper hand anymore-Nathan, my stepfather, or me.

But the truth was, I wasn't playing anymore. I was being played.

Nathan's hold on me had grown tighter, like a noose around my neck. He would come to see me, his presence demanding, his eyes never leaving me, always watching, always waiting for me to slip up. His touch had become possessive, each caress a claim, each word a reminder of the power he held over me. The more I resisted, the more he enjoyed it, like a hunter savoring the chase.

But what hurt the most was the confusion that gnawed at me. Some part of me buried deep beneath the anger and the fear-was drawn to him. I hated it. I hated the way he made me feel, the way his mere presence made my pulse race, my breath catch in my throat. It was all wrong, and yet it felt like I couldn't stop it.

And I hated myself for it.

One evening, Nathan came to my room unannounced, his knock a warning before he let himself in. I didn't even bother to pretend I was busy anymore. What was the point? He stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over me, calculating, always calculating.

"You're quiet tonight," he remarked, his voice low, but there was a hint of amusement in it. He walked over to the chair by the window and leaned against it, eyes never leaving me.

"I'm tired," I replied flatly, refusing to give him any more than that. I didn't want to acknowledge him, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. But it was hard to ignore him, especially when he made every moment feel like it was on his terms.

He smirked. "Of course you are. That's what you always say when you want me to leave you alone."

I didn't answer him. I just stared at the wall, my mind racing with thoughts I couldn't control. I could feel the pressure of his gaze, the weight of it pressing on my chest.

"Look at me, Sophia," Nathan commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

I clenched my jaw but turned my head slowly to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, holding me in place like a prisoner. The air around us felt thick with tension, and for a moment, I was certain I wouldn't be able to breathe. But I had to say something, anything, to break the suffocating silence.

"What do you want from me?" The words came out bitter, raw, filled with frustration. "I don't belong to you."

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. "You keep telling yourself that," he said, his voice low and almost affectionate, "but we both know the truth, don't we?"

I shook my head, trying to ignore the way my heart hammered in my chest. He was right. There was no escaping the truth.

"You're mine, Sophia," he continued, his voice like a spell, wrapping around me, suffocating me. "And deep down, you know it. You can't run from it anymore."

"No," I breathed, taking a step back, desperate for some distance. "I don't belong to you. You can't make me love you."Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Nathan's expression shifted, a small, predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Love?" he asked, his voice dripping with amusement. "I don't need your love, Sophia. All I need is your obedience. And you'll give it to me eventually. You can't help it."

I could feel my chest tighten, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "You think you can control me? You think you can just break me down and make me do whatever you want?"

Nathan's smile widened, and he took another step toward me, closing the space between us. "I don't need to break you, Sophia. You're already broken. You just don't realize it yet."

I wanted to scream, to push him away, but his presence, his power, was too overwhelming.

He was right in front of me now, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. The air between us was charged, thick with tension. His hand reached out, cupping my chin gently, forcing me to look up at him.

"You think you can fight this," he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. "But you can't. You're mine, Sophia. And you'll always be."

For a moment, I didn't know what to do. His words, his touch-it was like being trapped in a storm, unable to escape. But the anger inside me flared, and I slapped his hand away.

"No," I spat, backing away from him. "I'm not yours. I'm not some prize you can claim."

Nathan's eyes darkened, and for a brief second, I thought I saw a flash of something dangerous in them. But then he just chuckled, the sound rich with amusement.

"You'll learn, Sophia," he said softly. "You'll learn that fighting me is pointless. I always win."

I turned away from him, my fists clenched, my heart pounding. I didn't know how much longer I could keep fighting. I didn't know how much longer I could pretend to be strong, when every day, every hour, he chipped away at me, piece by piece. But I couldn't give up. Not yet.

As Nathan turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing in the hall, I sank to the floor, my head in my hands. The battle was far from over. But I didn't know how much longer I could keep pretending I was in control.