Episode 7 - Mafia's Protection
823 Words
The morning sun spilled softly through the silk curtains, brushing against Clara’s skin like a promise of peace.
For the first time since her wedding, she slept without tears.
She stretched lazily, her lips curving in a faint smile — a fragile illusion of calm.
But then her phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand, shattering the moment.
It was her mother.
> “Clara! Where have you been? Come home right now!”
The voice was harsh, demanding. The same voice that once ordered her around like a servant.
Clara exhaled slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips.
> “Your home isn’t fit for me anymore, Mother. I have no reason to come back.”
> “You ungrateful child!” her mother snapped. “After everything we did for you—”
> “You mean after everything I did for you,” Clara said coldly.
Then her father’s voice came through, gentler but still heavy with manipulation.
> “Please, my dear. Come home. We need to talk.”
Clara frowned.
> “If you have something to say, say it now. I don’t want to associate with you anymore.”
> “It’s… important,” her father said quickly. “It’s about Alexander Steele.”
Her brows furrowed — but before she could respond, she ended the call.
She sat there in silence for a moment, mumbling under her breath.
> “They always want control. But what could they possibly want now…?”
After a long pause, she sighed and stood up.
> “Fine. One last time.”
She dressed elegantly — simple but confident — and walked downstairs.
But as she turned the corner, she nearly collided with a solid figure.
> “Ah— I’m so sorry, sir,” she stammered, stumbling back.
Alexander caught her by the waist before she could fall. His grip was firm, his gaze sharp but unreadable.
> “Are you scared of your husband?” he asked quietly, eyes locked on hers.
For a fleeting second, the world around her vanished.
Her heart pounded in her chest, faster than she wanted to admit.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her — then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
> “You think too much,” he murmured before turning away, his stride calm, powerful… untouchable.
Clara stood there, frozen.
Her heart melted despite her best efforts not to feel anything.
Maybe he was a devil — but even devils, it seemed, could make her feel warmth.
---
When she reached her parents’ home, that fleeting warmth vanished instantly.
Mr. and Mrs. Crooks sat on the couch with smug faces, and beside them — her sister, Vanessa, perfectly dressed and smirking like a cat who’d stolen the cream.
Clara crossed her arms.
> “If you called me here for money, I don’t have any. Say what you want and let’s end this.”
Her mother’s smile was sharp.
> “Your sister wants Alexander,” she said bluntly. “You need to step aside and let her have him.”
Clara blinked. Then she laughed — a short, humorless sound.
> “So… that’s what this is about.”
“Then by all means,” she said, spreading her hands mockingly. “Let her try. I’m not stopping her.”
Vanessa’s eyes gleamed.
> “Really, Clara? You’d give him up that easily?”
Clara turned her cold gaze on her sister.
> “You do remember he’s married to me, don’t you?”
Their mother waved dismissively.
> “That’s not a big deal. You were never good enough for him anyway.”
Something inside Clara snapped.
> “Do you even realize I’m also your daughter?” she hissed. “Or am I just the mistake you’ve been waiting to erase?”
Mrs. Crooks stepped closer, her voice rising.
> “You ungrateful brat! How dare you speak to me like—”
She lifted her hand to slap Clara—
—but a voice cut through the room like a thunderclap.
> “Who dares touch my wife?”
The air froze.
Alexander stood in the doorway, tall and imposing in his black suit, his eyes cold enough to make even her father flinch.
Clara’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t even heard him arrive.
He stepped forward slowly, his voice low but dangerous.
> “I’ll only say this once — if any of you lay a hand on her, I’ll make sure none of you ever speak again.”
The room fell silent.
Vanessa’s smirk faded. Her parents looked pale.
Clara just stood there, stunned — her heart trembling not with fear this time, but something else entirely.
Because for the second time since she met him, the devil had stood up for her.
And she couldn’t tell if that terrified her more…
or made her feel safe.
- Writer
