The Mafia Boss's Pet Wife

Sophia

Days passed in a haze, with Nathan's words echoing in my mind like a constant, haunting refrain. You're mine. I couldn't shake it, no matter how hard I tried. The more I resisted, the more he pressed. I was beginning to feel like a puppet with invisible strings attached to my every move, every thought, every breath.

I was suffocating in this twisted game.

My interactions with Nathan were becoming a dangerous dance. Every time I thought I had control, he found a way to take it back. His eyes, so sharp and calculating, were always watching me. He knew my weaknesses, knew how to push me just enough to see how far I'd bend before breaking. And it terrified me.

I couldn't escape him.

The worst part was the moments when he wasn't directly with me when I had time to reflect, to analyze everything. Those were the moments I hated most, because that was when the truth hit me hardest. Nathan had chosen me. He had chosen me when my own stepfather had sold me to him, when I had no say in the matter, when I was nothing but a pawn in a game I didn't understand.

The guilt gnawed at me.

I had thought, for a brief moment, that I could escape. That I could run away and start over. But every time I tried, Nathan found a way to draw me back in. It was like he was always one step ahead, always anticipating my every move. And now I was starting to wonder if I even wanted to escape anymore.

I wasn't sure anymore what was real and what wasn't. Was my hatred for him genuine, or was it just the result of his manipulation? Was I angry because of what he had done to me, or because of how I had let him into my head, into my heart? I was losing myself.

The walls of the house felt like they were closing in on me, suffocating me with their oppressive silence. The only time I felt anything other than dread was when Nathan was near, and that terrified me. His presence, his touch, it made me feel things I couldn't explain things I didn't want to feel.

I couldn't figure out if I was more scared of him or of myself.

One evening, as I sat in the drawing room, trying to distract myself with a book, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. I didn't need to look up to know it was Nathan. There was something about his movements, deliberate and controlled, that always gave him away.

I could feel the air change the moment he stepped into the room.

"Why do you look so miserable?" Nathan's voice broke through the silence, and I looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time in hours. There was a coldness to his expression, but his eyes... his eyes were always so intense, always searching, always digging beneath the surface.

"I'm not miserable," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but it came out shaky, betraying me.

He walked toward me, slow and measured, like a predator closing in on its prey. I wanted to shrink away, but I stayed rooted to my spot, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower.

"You can lie to me all you want, but you can't lie to yourself." His voice was low, his words cutting through the air like a blade. "I see it in your eyes. You're falling apart, Sophia. And you know why? Because you can't fight this anymore." I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms to ground myself. "I'm not falling apart," I replied through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

Nathan stopped just in front of me, so close I could feel the heat radiating off of him. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "the more you fight it, the worse it's going to get. You're mine. There's no running from that." His words settled over me like a weight, crushing any remaining resolve I had. I wanted to push him away, scream at him, but I couldn't. The truth was too clear, too painful.

"I hate you," I finally managed, the words coming out harsher than I intended.

Nathan didn't react right away. He simply stared at me, as if weighing my words, before a small, amused smile curled on his lips. "You can hate me all you want," he said, his voice soft but filled with that same dangerous calm. "But it doesn't change anything. You're mine, and you always will be."

The tension between us was unbearable, thick and suffocating. I wanted to escape. I needed to escape.

But just as I stood up to leave, the door burst open, and my stepfather, Thomas, entered the room, his face flushed with anger. He looked from Nathan to me, his gaze darkening with something unreadable.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Thomas's voice was sharp, filled with barely contained fury. "You think you can just take my daughter and do whatever you want with her?"

Nathan turned slowly to face him, the calmness in his demeanor never wavering. "Your daughter is my responsibility now," he said, his tone cool and authoritative. "And I don't take kindly to being challenged." Thomas took a step forward, his fists clenched. "I didn't sell her to you so you could treat her like this," he spat, his voice rising in anger.

I could feel the tension crackling in the air, the two men circling each other like wolves preparing for a fight. But it wasn't just the conflict between them that made my stomach twist with anxiety. It was the realization that my stepfather wasn't the man I thought he was, that he had traded me for money, for power, and for whatever sick deal Nathan had offered him.

I was nothing more than a commodity to both of them.

"You don't get to decide how I treat her," Nathan said, his voice low and dangerous. "You lost that right the moment you sold her to me."Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

The words cut through me like a knife, and I felt like I was drowning in a sea of betrayal, anger, and helplessness. My stepfather had betrayed me, Nathan had taken me, and now I was trapped in the middle of a game I didn't even understand. "I'm not a possession," I finally whispered, my voice barely audible. But it didn't matter. No one was listening.

Nathan stepped toward me, his presence a force that commanded everything. "You were never anything but that," he said quietly, the words sending a chill down my spine.

I wanted to fight back. I wanted to scream, to run, to do anything to break free. But in that moment, I knew deep down that I was trapped. The game had already begun, and I was losing.