In The Mafia's Heart

Episode 5

CHLOE'S POV

The drive back to Richard’s mansion felt endless. My hands gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles pale against the leather. My father’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in my head, each one heavier than the last.

You must live as Zoe.

It’s the only way to protect the family.

It’s the only way to protect her name.

Zoe’s name. My sister’s reputation. My life, ripped from me in the span of a single conversation.

I hadn’t even noticed when I passed through the mansion’s gates. The car rolled into the compound, headlights sweeping across the wide driveway, and only then did I realize I had been holding my breath. I exhaled shakily, chest tight with the weight of it all.

The engine cut, silence swallowing the space around me. My heart thudded against my ribs as I stepped out, heels striking the pavement like unsteady drumbeats. The house loomed in front of me, grand and intimidating, my new prison dressed in marble and gold.

And then I saw him.

Richard.

He stood a few feet away, flanked by his men, but the moment his eyes locked on me, he lifted a hand and they retreated. Just like that. Power bent to his will, silent, unquestioning.

His gaze was sharp, unreadable. Cold enough to freeze me in place.

My steps faltered, the ground swaying beneath me. I felt weak, confused, as though every secret I carried was tattooed across my face. But I forced myself forward, each step a battle, until I was close enough to see the faint lines in his brow, lines of tension, of suspicion.

“Next time,” he said, voice smooth but edged with steel, “If you plan to leave this house, do well to leave a note. Or tell someone. Don’t disappear into thin air.”

His words cut deeper than I expected. Not because of the warning, but because there was something else buried beneath it, something almost protective. Almost.

I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. My father’s voice warred with Richard’s in my head. One demanded I play the role of Zoe flawlessly; the other demanded control. And me? I was suffocating between the two.

Then, without warning, he pulled out his phone and held it out to me. “Your number.”

I blinked, staring at the device in his hand. For a heartbeat too long, I didn’t move. Did Zoe even have his number? Had they ever exchanged it? The thought panicked me. But I couldn’t hesitate, hesitation was dangerous.

So I took the phone, fingers trembling slightly as I typed in my number. My number. Chloe’s number. I handed it back, praying he wouldn’t notice the hesitation.

Richard pressed a button. A shrill tone rang out from my purse, and I stiffened. His eyes flicked toward the sound, then back to me, expression as cold as ever. “Save my number,” he said.

I nodded, fumbling with my phone until his name appeared on the screen. Richard. My husband. My stranger. My executioner, if he ever discovered the truth.

He turned then, footsteps echoing against marble as he headed toward the mansion. His back was straight, his aura unshaken, as though my late return hadn’t rattled him. But I knew better. I’d seen the flicker in his eyes, brief, but real. Relief. Then suspicion.

I forced myself forward, one shaky step at a time, the words I had thrown at my father still burning in my chest. I’m only doing this for Zoe.

Not for the family.

Not for the legacy.

Only for her.

But as I crossed into the mansion, Richard’s shadow stretched long across the walls, and I realized something terrifying.

Protecting Zoe’s reputation might cost me more than my freedom.

It might cost me my life.

I shut the door behind me with more force than I meant to. The sound echoed through the room, sharp against the suffocating silence. My chest felt tight, the air heavy, like the walls themselves were closing in.

I pressed my back against the door and closed my eyes. Images from the day played in my mind like broken glass, my father’s calm cruelty, my stepmother’s smug silence, Richard’s unreadable gaze. It was too much. Too much in one day.

And then a thought struck me.

They couldn’t have smuggled me into this house without help.

The realization was ice down my spine. Richard’s security was too tight, his men always stationed at every corner of this mansion. There had to be a weakness. A traitor. Someone had looked the other way while my unconscious body was carried past them.

Which meant someone close to Richard had betrayed him.

I swallowed hard. My heart pounded louder at the thought. If Richard ever discovered that, he wouldn’t just kill the spy, he’d kill me for being part of it.

I rubbed my temples, trying to push the paranoia away, but new questions rose up, sharper than before.

Why had Zoe tried to run away in the first place? Was Richard that cruel, that unloving, that unbearable? He looked like the type of man who could crush someone without raising his voice. A man too cold to love, too powerful to question. But was he a monster?

Or was Zoe simply too fragile to survive him?

The truth lay buried somewhere between them, and if I was going to survive in her place, I needed to uncover it.

I took a deep breath, pushing myself off the door.

No more pretending to be timid. No more playing the obedient doll.

Zoe might have bent everyone’s will, but I was Chloe. I had been silenced once, forced into this life I didn’t choose. Never again.

I walked to the mirror and stared at my reflection. The same face, the same eyes, the same delicate frame that had belonged to my sister, but tonight, I swore I saw something different staring back. Determination. Fire.

“If I’m going to wear your face, Zoe,” I whispered to the glass, “then I’ll find out the truth of your life. Of your marriage. Of Richard.”

The words anchored me, heavy with a promise I couldn’t take back.

I stripped off the day’s clothes, each piece falling like dead weight onto the floor, and stepped into the bathroom. Hot water cascaded over me, stinging my skin, but I welcomed it. It was the only thing that made me feel alive again, that washed away the traces of tears I hadn’t let Richard see.

As the steam curled around me, I let my mind sharpen. The role of Zoe might have been forced on me, but how I played it… that was mine to decide.

And one thing

g was clear.

I would not be intimidated. Not by Richard. Not by my father. Not by anyone.