MAFIA QUEEN

CHAPTER 3- LOVE?

Gwen turned on the bed, tangled in her blanket, shifting side to side, trying to find a comfortable spot. Outside, sunlight filtered through the curtains — strong, intense, far too bright for what she expected at dawn. She blinked, frowning. The clock on her bedside table glowed: 11:58 a.m.

Her heart jumped. She sat up sharply, blankets falling aside.

“He’s going to scold me for sure.”

That thought made her spring from the bed. She threw off the sheets and rushed straight to the bathroom. Inside the mirror’s reflection, she barely recognized herself: hair messy, eyes heavy, pale face. Without thinking, she grabbed her toothbrush and started brushing, quick and rough. Toothpaste foam dripped down as she scrubbed harder than usual.

Her routine was chaotic — teeth, combing hair, splashing water in her face. She hurried, looking over her shoulder, anxious about the time. She knew she had no good excuse for oversleeping. Today, the guests Kian had mentioned would visit. She couldn’t afford to be late.

After she finished, she moved to her closet and grabbed a simple but neat outfit — a clean blouse and dark trousers. Something respectful enough for guests. She dressed quickly, then paused. Her phone lay on the dresser where she had left it the night before. She reached for it, but then remembered: she’d taken it off when she got home and tossed it somewhere else. For a split second panic hit as she realized she didn’t know where it was. She dropped the blouse’s collar, then regained focus: there was no time to hunt for it now. She’d retrieve it later.

She took a breath and stepped toward the stairs. She placed her foot on the first step — and suddenly lost her balance. Her heel slipped on the polished wood. She tried to catch herself, but gravity pulled. She tumbled down one stair.

Pain shot through her ankle. She landed hard against the floor. A sharp sting. Tears pricked her eyes immediately. Pain wasn’t the only thing: for a moment she felt small, vulnerable, as if something inside her fractured. She curled up for a second, breathing sharp, a sob escaping her throat.

She forced herself to get up, her ankle throbbing. She leaned against the wall, supporting part of her weight with one hand. Her breaths came quick and shallow. She closed her eyes tight, blinking hard, trying to keep tears from falling.

How easy it would have been to call out for someone — a helper, a guard, anyone. But she didn’t. She wasn’t used to being comforted. Crying, letting someone know she was hurt, felt like weakness. And weakness was dangerous in her world.

As she steadied herself, she looked up — and there he was.

Standing just a few steps above her was Kian. His posture was straight, his face blank, unreadable. The soft afternoon light from the nearby window cast half his body in shadow.

Kian: “Why are you up now? I told you they will come at night.” His voice was calm but firm.

Gwen’s heart pounded. She forced herself to stand straight, even though her ankle protested. She pressed a hand lightly over her sore ankle as she met his gaze.

Gwen: “But… Father, you said not to miss today.”

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then he bent down so his face was on her level — close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the house’s wood polish. His expression softened for a moment. Not like a boss. Not even really like a guardian. Like a father would — but not fully warm.

Kian: “I never said to wake up this early, okay?”

Gwen stared at him, hurt and confusion mixing inside her.

He straightened back up. He didn’t reach to help her stand, didn’t offer his arm. He just turned and walked past her, heading to the stairs going up.

Some part of Gwen felt relief — maybe because the tension in his eyes faded. Another part felt empty.

She drew a deep breath, wincing in pain as she tried to shift her weight. Then she forced herself to speak.

Gwen: “I… I already got dressed. I’ll go now.”

She tried to walk past him, but her ankle gave a sharp ache and she stumbled slightly. Kian didn’t turn back. He didn’t help. He kept moving.

Confusion swirled in Gwen’s mind. She didn’t understand why he had seemed… different just a moment ago. More gentle. More human. Maybe just a trick of the light. But she reconsidered nothing, not even the ache, and moved toward the door.

The front door opened, and she stepped outside into the bright noon. The cool air brushed against her skin and she paused. She rubbed her ankle lightly under her pants.

Maybe he was in a good mood. Or maybe he had a good deal. Maybe nothing changed.

Gwen shook her head slightly. She didn’t know what his mood meant. All she knew was the routine: day shifts at the bar, running all hours, debts unpaid, expectations standing on her shoulders.

She took a step forward, then another, heading toward her car parked nearby. With each step, her ankle throbbed, but she ignored it. Pain had become normal. Uncomfortable, but normal.

Inside the car, Gwen sat and exhaled slowly, head resting against the seat. She closed her eyes and tried to will the pain away. She thought of the bar shift ahead, the customers, the noise, the trays, the orders, the drinks, the steaks. She thought of being watched, judged — not for who she was, but for what she represented: a debt payer, an obligation, a responsibility.

She turned the key in the ignition and started the car. She drove off the mansion gates and onto the busy street. The city hummed around her, people going about their lives, unaware of hers — the life she’d never choose.

Still, she wished something inside her: a small hope. For kindness. For a reason. For a change.

She didn’t know what direction her life would take after today’s shift. She didn’t know if the guests would bring anything new — a promise, a deal, a demand. But as the city blurred past her windows and her ankle pulsed with pain, she felt a familiar determination growing: she would survive.

She would keep moving forward.

Even when the path was rough. Even when the weight of debts was too heavy.

Because she had no choice. Not yet. Not while she still had a heartbeat.

And so, with the engine humming, Gwen drove into the afternoon traffic — wounded, uncertain, but still breathing.

Gwen stepped out of the car and headed toward the bar with her usual tired walk. She pushed open the door, locked it behind her, and went straight to the bathroom to change. Her uniform hung on the hook, neatly ironed the way she left it.

Gwen: “The bar is empty today…”

She said it quietly while slipping into her work shirt. The silence felt strange—no customers, no music, no glasses clinking.

Once she finished changing, she walked to the kitchen to find Lena.

Gwen: “Girl, how are you?”

Lena was wiping the counter and smiled.

Lena: “Fine, and you? Did you rest well that night? Or…” she smirked, “…did you spend the whole night messing Jake up?”

Gwen froze. Her eyes widened, and she immediately pushed the kitchen door closed so no staff could hear that.

Yeah… she had a boyfriend. And honestly, it wasn’t surprising. Gwen was beautiful, she had the type of body people stared at, the face everyone paid attention to. But she never acted like she was special.

Gwen: “Shh! If Kian hears that, he’ll be mad. Keep it low.”

She dropped into a chair.

Gwen: “Besides… he’s not back from Colombia yet.”

Lena: “Don’t worry, at least he still talks to you.”

Gwen: “I’m the one who doesn’t. I thought giving him space was better.”

Lena rolled her eyes.

Lena: “You’ll lose your man slowly, baby girl. Give him more attention.”

Gwen snorted.

Gwen: “Anyway, why is the bar empty?”

Lena: “Three VIP guests are coming. That’s why.”

Gwen: “Oh… those.”

She stretched her arms.

Gwen: “So I still got time to rest.”

Lena: “I’ll wake you up.”

Gwen leaned against the wall, her voice soft and sleepy.

Gwen: “Mmh… yeah.”

⸻

Two hours later, she woke up. Her vision was blurry at first. She rubbed her eyes slowly and looked around.

Gwen: “Where did she go?”

Lena wasn’t there.

Gwen didn’t like calling names loudly like a parent calling their lost pet. She wasn’t the dramatic type. She preferred searching quietly until she found what she was looking for.

She left the kitchen and headed toward the bar area. That’s when she heard voices behind the counter—soft laughter, a male voice, a female voice responding quietly.

She frowned.

She walked closer… then stopped.

No—she hid.

Just peeking from the corner, she saw it.

Lena was leaning on the wall, her face a little pink, and Jake—her Jake—was pinning her lightly with one arm. His head leaned close to Lena’s ear as he spoke to her quietly. Lena giggled. His hand brushed her waist lightly when he adjusted his position. The kind of touch that wasn’t a mistake.

The air in Gwen’s chest tightened. Not loud. Not painful outside. But inside, something pulled hard.

Gwen (in her head): “When was he even back…?”

Her heart sank in a quiet, cold way. She didn’t walk up to them like the movie scenes where the girl screams or slaps someone. That wasn’t Gwen. She didn’t cry. She didn’t yell.

She just stood there.

Watching.

Realizing.

Feeling the kind of hurt that never came out as tears — it stayed deep, heavy, somewhere in the center of her chest.

She stepped back slowly.

Then turned around.

And walked away. Not fast, not dramatic, just… carefully. Silently.

Like someone who understood something important without needing the scene explained.