The Mafia Boss Betrayed Me

The night of the accident, as I stood by the mangled wreckage of my car, a sleek black sedan pulled up beside me. A man, dressed in a tailored suit, stepped out. His dark eyes, shielded by a pair of sunglasses, scanned the scene with a cold detachment. He noticed my white dress, stained crimson, and turned to his female companion in the passenger seat.

"Look away," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Bad luck."

The woman's face masked with curiosity, obeyed. The man then returned his attention to me, his gaze fixed on the shattered remains of my world.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice devoid of sympathy.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

The man nodded, then turned and walked back to his car. As he drove away, I noticed a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

That moment, I slowly closed my eyes...

Later that evening, as I was cleaning up the car, I came across a lace underwear tucked away in the corner of the passenger seat. It was not mine. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew then that the man from the car was not a stranger.

I am too stunned to speak, as if that day, my world has been shuttered because I found out that it was my long time boyfriend, Damon.

He had been watching me, waiting for the right moment to intervene.

I reached for my phone and dialed a number I had been given earlier that day.

"Mr. Smith," I said, my voice steady, "I've made up my mind. I'm ready to join your company."

"Who were you talking to?" Damon asked, his gaze averted.

I glanced at the man, his eyes dark and lips pursed. He used to return home early, but lately, he'd been staying at work late.

"I accepted a new job offer from Mr. Smith," I replied truthfully.

"Oh," he said, barely acknowledging my response.

As usual, he wasn’t really listening.

I stared at my hands, trembling. For the first time, I didn't lash out or create a scene. Instead, I nodded my head slowly as if I accepted his response.

Damon put his suitcase on the table and took off his clothes one by one. He expected that I’ll prepare his pajamas that I always did for him, but stopped when he noticed I wasn’t moving.

Finally, he spared me a glance.

"I showed your CT scan to a specialist," he began. "He said it was just a minor injury, nothing serious."

"Alright," I replied, my voice flat, my eyes still looking at my hands.

Earlier that day, I had received eight stitches in my leg from the accident. To make matters worse, I had just learned I was four weeks pregnant and already experiencing signs of miscarriage. The doctor had apologized, explaining that if I had been brought to the hospital sooner, the baby might have been saved.

Damon frowned, his eyes filled with concern. He started to approach me, but his phone buzzed, interrupting him.

A smile spread across his face as he turned and disappeared into the room without even told me where he was going.

Once he was out of sight, I opened my dummy account and spent my night scrolling on social media . Suddenly, a cryptic post appeared in my newsfeed; It was Damon’ secretary, saying—

[I had a great time with you, Boss!”]

Beneath the caption was a photo of a dinner date in a yacht.

I heaved a sigh and calmed myself.

Now, I made up my mind.

I opened my email and found a contract. Without hesitation, I signed the documents approving that I will accept the job offer.