Taming The Mafia Man.

I could still hear the gunshot echoes as the man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, blood blooming across the marble floor. My stomach churned at the sight, bile rushing up my throat.

Veron lowered his weapon with terrifying calm. No remorse. No hesitation. Just execution.

“Dispose of it,” he told the guards, his voice cold like frost.

Two suited men dragged the corpse away like it was trash. No one even flinched when he pulled the trigger. I couldn’t breathe. The air felt thick with iron and smoke. My legs threatened to give way, so I found a wall and leaned on it.

I stared at Veron—at the stranger wearing my brother’s face.

“This… this isn’t you,” I whispered.

He turned, his expression unreadable. “No. It’s not the version you remember.”

My hands curled into fists. “You just shot someone. In front of me.”

“He tried to kill you, Liana,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t allow second chances when it comes to you.”

But it wasn’t comforting. It was terrifying.

The brother I left six years ago was gone. Replaced by something colder, harder.

He signaled two women to enter—maids dressed in muted tones. “Take her to the east wing. Give her everything she needs.”

“I don’t need—”

“You need rest,” Veron said, cutting me off. “We’ll talk later.”

I wanted to argue, to scream—but my voice failed me. I let the maids guide me away, my mind spinning and aching from everything. It had been a rollercoaster with no pause in between.

The suite they led me to was luxurious—fireplace lit, velvet curtains swaying, food waiting on polished trays—but I felt like I was drowning in silk.

Once alone, I finally grabbed my phone. It lit up with tension, a stark contrast to the darkness brewing in my heart.

Seven missed calls. All from Josie.

One unread message:

Where the hell did you go? Come back this second. Don’t be stupid.

My heart slammed against my ribs. How dare he still talk to me like this?

Josie. My husband. My betrayer.

The image of him with Becca flashed like a blade. The softness in his voice when he lied. The nights he came home late, reeking of perfume I didn’t own.

He was worried I left—not because he loved me—but because he lost control.

I nearly threw the phone across the room.

---

The sunlight streaming through the heavy curtains poured its rays on my face, waking me from a deep slumber. How did I even fall asleep last night?

I woke to the relentless buzzing of my phone on the nightstand.

Nine missed calls.

More than a dozen unread messages.

All from Josie.

My fingers trembled as I stared at the screen. Every ring, every beep, was a reminder—he was still trying to pull me back, but I wasn’t the same woman who once waited by the phone.

A soft knock broke the silence.

Dylan stepped in, calm as ever, his blue eyes sharp but not unkind. “How was your night?”

I swallowed hard. “Long,” I responded, flipping away the strand of hair that had fallen over my face.

He nodded, checking the time. “Veron wants you downstairs. Breakfast is ready.”

I took a deep breath and followed him down, taking in every corner of the house as I walked.

The dining room was quiet as I settled in, the air thick with unspoken questions. Veron sat at the head of the table, watching me like I was a fragile glass ready to shatter.

He gestured to a seat. “Sit.”

I did, my eyes locked on the untouched food served on golden plates.

“Why did you leave Josie?” Veron asked, his voice steady but low.

I looked up, barely meeting his gaze. “Because he cheated. Lied. Made me believe I was nothing.”

His gaze sharpened. “So do you still plan on going back to him?”

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated—Josie was calling again.

Veron nodded toward it. “Pick it up.”

My hand hesitated, trembling. Then I slid the green button.

“Liana…” His voice was soft, but I heard the cold beneath it. “Where are you? Come back.”

“I’m not coming back,” I said firmly.

“Think about it,” Josie pleaded. “You have nowhere else. No one else. Where did you go? Okay, I’m sorry about whatever Becca said or did to you. Come home, we can sort it out.”

I kept mute as he talked, listening to the lies pour from him like oil over fire.

“I still have my family, Josie,” I whispered.

The line went quiet.

“Who?” Josie’s voice cracked.

I met Veron’s eyes, then cut the call.

Veron’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word.

I stood up from the breakfast table, my appetite gone. The tension between Veron and me was palpable, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking on thin ice.

As I retired to my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about Josie’s call. His voice had been smooth, but I could hear the desperation beneath. He thought he could manipulate me, control me, but I was no longer that woman.

Later, Dylan appeared at the door with a black card in his hand.

“Veron wants you to have this,” he said, his voice softer now. “Go clear your head. Come shopping with me.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to hide the flutter in my chest. “Sounds dangerous,” I joked.

Dylan’s lips curled into a ghost of a smile. “Only if you get carried away.”

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should trust Dylan. But something about him put me at ease. Maybe it was the way he looked at me—like I was a person, not just a possession.

“Okay,” I said finally, taking the card from him. “Let’s go.”

As we left the mansion, I felt a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in a long time. The wind in my hair, the sun on my face, and Dylan’s easy smile beside me made me feel alive.

For the first time in forever, I felt like I was taking control of my life. And I had Dylan to thank for it.

---

The mall's vibrant atmosphere blurred around me as I walked beside Dylan, senses on high alert. Every step felt like a countdown to disaster, my heart racing with dread. Dylan’s soothing voice barely registered as I scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of danger.

Then a sharp whizz cut through the air, followed by a metallic ping. My heart skipped a beat—a bullet had skimmed past my ear.

Dylan’s hand clamped over mine, pulling me into a nearby store.

Panic set in.

This was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to escape Josie’s toxic grip. But now, it felt like I was being dragged into a world even darker than before—where bullets and threats were routine.

Then came the message from Josie:

You think you can run? You belong to me. No one will protect you. Not even Veron.

The words sliced deeper than any bullet.

How did he know Veron was with me?

Who the hell was Josie?