Dealing with the Mafia King

Claire felt her heart pounding as she went into her uncle’s study. Cigars and leather hung heavy in the air, nauseating. Her uncle, Mr. Stewart, who had his slicked-back graying hair and sharp eyes, turned toward her from behind his imposing oak desk. “Sit down, Claire,” he said, his voice clipped, revealing no emotion. Claire hesitated, but obeyed. Her hands were clammy, and her stomach turned. She knew this was not a casual summons. Her uncle never called her unless he wanted something. “What’s this about?” she asked, her voice wavering. He sat back in his chair and draped his hands over his chest. “You’re twenty-one, Claire (21 now). "It’s your turn to repay the debt you owe this family.” Her brows furrowed. “Debt? What are you talking about?” Mr. Stewart smiled, but it was a bitter smile. “I had a deal with a very powerful man, a man named James Cross, many years ago. I offered him something highly valuable in return for assisting my company to grow. A bride.” Claire’s breath caught. “A bride? "You mean Isabella?” She remembered her cousin, the polished, scheming daughter her uncle had always preferred. “No,” her uncle replied, his expression hardening. “You.” It was as if the world had rolled under her feet. “Me?” she whispered, almost inaudibly. He nodded. “You will marry James Cross. I have already made the arrangements. “No,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “I won’t do it.” Mr. Stewart’s expression darkened, and his tone went cold. “You will, or your sister, Cleo, will pay the price.” Claire’s chest tightened. Her younger sister, Cleo, was the sole remaining family member that truly mattered to her. She couldn’t allow anything to happen to her. “What do you mean?” she inquired, her voice quivering. “James has no tolerance for breached contracts,” he stated. If you decline, he will pursue me and he will pursue her. Do you understand me, Claire? This is bigger than you. Bigger than your freedom.” However, the weight of his words sank in; she felt a chill run down her spine. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. She couldn’t show weakness, not now. “Why can’t you send Vivian?” she demanded. “She’s your daughter.” Mr. Stewart’s expression didn’t change. “James specifically requested someone… simpler. Easier to manage. And Vivian is… too valuable to risk.” Claire’s hands balled into fists in her lap. She was a pawn, disposable. But she had no choice. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it." But if anything happens to Cleo…” “Nothing will happen to her,” her uncle interjected (an assertion that lingered uncomfortably). “As long as you obey.” “Okay,” replied Claire, she gently walked out of her uncle’s office. “Claire” Vivian calls to enter her room. “Why haven’t you made dinner yet?” she asked. “You know I don’t eat late,” she added. “I will start now if you’ll allow me and stop nagging,” Clair resorted, annoyance written in her voice. Before Claire could realise, a resounding slap landed on her cheek. “You dare speak to me in such a manner.” Vivian reported that someone locked Claire in the darkroom as punishment for the rest of the day. The day seems to be moving in circles as Claire anticipates the change in her life. A knock came through Claire’s door while she was lost in thought. “Come in,” said Claire, not paying attention to the door. Her uncle walks in and sits beside her on the bed, “Since your parents died, I have always tried my best to care for and feed you and your sister well.” Earlier, now is the time to make yourself useful,” he said, looking straight at Claire. “These are what you need to do and know,” he said, handing Claire a piece of paper, read it out loud.” He commanded his tone firmly as always. “1. James must not know I’m not your biological father. 2. Until my deals end with James, you must be on your best behavior else your sister’s treatment stops.” 3. You’re not allowed to visit your sister till you’re married to James. 4. "Remember, you must get into James’s good book and get more deals for our company.” Claire read in disbelief, frustration, anger and hatred boiling inside her. She wants to ask questions, to disagree, but something in her uncle’s gaze shuts her up. Tears threaten to fall, but dare not show them. “Pack your stuff, tomorrow you move to James’ house, your certificate is ready” The grand hall of James Cross’s mansion was just as intimidating as its owner himself, marble floors gleamed under the dim light of an opulent chandelier. Claire stood near the entrance, her heart pounding so loudly that she was certain everyone could hear it. She caught sight of him almost immediately. James Cross stood at the far end of the room, engaged in a quiet conversation with a man she didn’t recognize. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a commanding presence that made the air around him feel suffocating. His sharp gray eyes scanned the room like a predator assessing prey. “Claire,” her uncle’s voice jolted her back to reality. “Go and meet him.” She hesitated, her legs feeling like jelly. However, before she could muster the courage, James’s gaze locked onto hers. A shiver ran down her spine. He didn’t smile, didn’t move; he just watched her with an intensity that made it hard to breathe, because it was as if he could see right through her. Gathering every ounce of courage, Claire walked toward him. Each step felt like an eternity. When she finally stood before him, he didn’t speak immediately, his icy gaze raked over her as if evaluating her worth. “So, you’re the payment,” he stated, his voice deep and smooth, laced with hatred. Claire swallowed hard. “I... I’m Claire.” “I know who you are,” he replied, his expression inscrutable. “You’re here because of a deal. Nothing more.” His bluntness hurt, yet she maintained her composure. “I didn’t ask for this,” she asserted, her voice firmer than she felt. A flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, perhaps amusement—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Good. That makes two of us.” Before she could muster a response, he turned to one of his maids. “Marinet, show her to her room.” With no room for argument (none whatsoever), Claire reluctantly followed Marinet, observing every detail of the house, lost in a trance. After a little turn here and there, Marinet stopped in front of a door and said, “Ma’am, your room.” She opened the door, and the view gripped her heart. A very simple yet alluringly beautiful and well-furnished room stared back at her and she smiled. “I will leave you to it,” said marinet. “Thank you,” replied Claire. Marinet left and closed the door. As soon as Marinet left, Claire fell on the bed and forgot her problem for a second. She took her bath, did her thing, and changed into her pajamas. Her thoughts drift from the drastic change in her life to her parents; they would have protected her, her sister; tears rolled down her face as she thought. James was passing by her room and decided to see what she was up to. The door cracked open and James burst in furiously.