His Mafia Princess

chapter 2

The villa felt different. Every shadow, every familiar scent, now held a new meaning. I moved through it like a ghost haunting my own past, my mind racing. My father wasn't back from his mission. I couldn't talk to him about getting into the business, not yet. That would be the hardest part – convincing the old lion to let his cub become a huntress.

I ended up in his study, the air thick with the scent of old leather and his expensive cigars. It was a place I remembered so vividly, a fortress of power. I sank into his oversized chair, the soft leather cold against my skin. Days I’d hidden in this villa, refusing to engage, simply planning.

A sharp rap on the heavy mahogany door. My head snapped up. Two figures entered, their presence casting a familiar chill over the room. The last two people I ever wanted to see again.

Kayden. And Olivia.

My heart didn’t drop this time. It solidified, a block of ice.

"Ayla, why are you avoiding me?" Kayden asked, his voice laced with feigned concern. He looked genuinely baffled. Olivia, however, her eyes met mine with a flicker of challenge, a ghost of the smirk she’d worn on the day she sealed my fate.

I rose slowly, deliberately, not bothering with my "good girlfriend" act. It was too soon for that. Too direct. But the coldness in my eyes was real. "I wasn't avoiding anyone. I was... catching up." I let my gaze linger on Olivia, then back to Kayden. "My eyes drifted to her still lingering presence. And it's odd she's still here. Aren't you two usually inseparable, Olivia?" I delivered the words with a cool detachment that even surprised me. Old habits, indeed. The ghost of the pain from my last life – the one they so carelessly ended – flickered, but it no longer held any real power. Their pathetic tryst? Utterly meaningless. But the memory of the blade, the shock, the cold... that still fueled a certain hunger.

The air in the grand office thickened with their unspoken guilt. They couldn't possibly know the true depth of it. Kayden shifted uncomfortably, a familiar nervous tic. Olivia, ever the brazen one, met my gaze with that same infuriating smirk. "Honestly," she began, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness I now recognized as pure poison, "we were just discussing a project. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about."

"A project that requires hushed tones and lingering glances, Livy?" I asked, using the pet name that used to bind us. "And Kayden, didn't you just have an 'important work call'?" My eyes flickered to him, a subtle pressure that went beyond mere jealousy. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Some things never changed.

Olivia scoffed, but her eyes darted to Kayden, a silent communication passing between them. A communication that once sealed my fate. Now, it just confirmed their continued entanglement.

Good. Simpler.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ayla. You're my bestie. Why would I want your man?" Livy scoffed, but her eyes flickered towards Kayden, a silent communication passing between them – a communication that once sealed my fate. Now, it just confirmed their continued entanglement. Good. It made things simpler.

Driven by a cold, calculated desire to sow discord, I suggested, "In fact, why don't we all go grab some coffee? We can discuss this 'project' in a more open setting." The invitation was a veiled threat, a tightening of the noose they didn't even realize was there. Kayden's hesitation was palpable, a flicker of the same fear I’d seen in his eyes that final moment. Livy, however, just smiled, a predatory glint in her eyes that I mirrored internally.

"Oh, that's alright," she said smoothly, too smoothly. "Kayden was just leaving anyway, weren't you?" The possessive touch on his arm, the intimate address – it was all part of their pathetic little dance.

"Actually," I interrupted, my voice deceptively calm, "I think you both have plenty of time. My father's associate, Mr. Rossi, just called. He mentioned needing to speak with Kayden about some... mutual investments." I fixed Kayden with a stare. Mr. Rossi was a name Kayden's family deeply respected and feared. This was a direct, public challenge. Kayden's face paled. He swallowed hard.

"Why don't I just pop down to the breakroom and grab us all something?" I offered, the forced normalcy a sharp contrast to the darkness simmering beneath the surface. "We can discuss this 'project' with Kayden's new investment opportunities." It was time for a little staged drama.

I moved with deliberate slowness, the echo of my last, panicked movements a stark contrast to my current control. Instead of heading to the breakroom, I circled back towards the office, my footsteps light, almost spectral. The door wasn't fully closed, a narrow crack offering a glimpse into their pathetic world.

And then I saw it.

Kayden had turned towards Livy, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. Her own hand rose to meet his, her fingers tracing his jawline with a sickening tenderness. Their eyes locked, a mirror of the intimacy that had been the prelude to my demise. And then, he leaned in.

The sight of their lips meeting was…uninteresting. It held no emotional charge for m0e. It was merely a confirmation, a data point in my long-term plan. But the memory of their betrayal, the cold steel, the fading light – that still burned.

The carefully “carried” mug slipped from my fingers, crashing to the floor with a0f satisfyingly loud clatter. Act one, scene one.

Their heads snapped apart, their faces etched with shock and a dawning horror. Good. Let them feel a fraction of the terror I experienced. The guilt on their faces was a pathetic imitation of the true weight of their sins.

The pieces clicked into place for them – the hushed conversations, the stolen moments. For me, the pieces had been in place the moment I drew my first breath in this new life.

"(Gasp) Kayden?" I choked out, my voice trembling with feigned devastation. "Livy?" The names tasted like ash in my mouth. "How could you?" The performance was Oscar-worthy, honed by lifetimes of pain and a burning desire for retribution. The silence in the office was thick, heavy with their guilt and my expertly crafted anguish. This was just the beginning. They would suffer. Oh, they would suffer.