The Mafia Affairs

The words fell into the room like a stone dropped into still water. “I’m pregnant.” For a moment, the sentence seemed too small for the chaos it created. Yet its echo stretched across the large chamber, bouncing against the marble walls and high ceiling, settling into every pair of ears present. Silence followed. Not the peaceful kind, but the sharp, suffocating stillness that precedes a storm. Then the murmurs began. Low voices clashed together like restless waves. Chairs scraped against the polished floor. Several members of the council leaned toward one another, whispering fiercely while others simply stared at the young woman standing at the center of the room as if she had just set the building on fire. “What do you mean,” Mateo demanded, his voice thick with restrained fury, “by ‘you are pregnant’?” His dark eyes burned with suspicion as they fixed on her. Risa stood still beneath the weight of those gazes. There were at least fifteen men seated around the massive table—powerful men, dangerous men. Their suits were immaculate, their expressions cold and calculating. They were the kind of men who controlled cities from the shadows, men who rarely showed emotion. But now every single one of them was staring at her. Judging her. Measuring her. Waiting. Then she made eye contact with Marcus. That was the only strength she could rely on. Risa felt the air pressing against her chest, making each breath heavier than the last. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, though she forced herself not to show fear. She had known this moment would be terrifying. Still, nothing could have truly prepared her for standing inside the lion’s den. Yet she lifted her chin. “I’m carrying Marcus Vales’ child,” she said clearly. The room erupted again. A mixture of disbelief, anger, and shock exploded among the council members. Several voices rose at once, questions firing from every direction. “That’s impossible.” “When did this happen?” “Is she lying?” Mateo’s gaze returned to Risa, colder now. “And why,” he asked slowly, “should we believe a word you’re saying?” Risa swallowed. For a fleeting second, doubt flickered through her chest. But she had already come this far. There was no turning back. “I’m carrying Marcus Vales’ child,” she repeated firmly. “Which means the baby is most likely an heir.” The effect of those words was immediate. If her first statement had shocked them, the second one had struck something far deeper. The possibility that the child she carried could one day inherit The Vales’ empire hung heavily in the air. The men around the table exchanged tense glances. Some looked furious. Some looked thoughtful. Others looked dangerously intrigued. Risa felt their scrutiny like knives against her skin. But inside, she already knew what this meant. She had stepped directly into the lion’s den… and worse, she had just pulled the lion’s tail. There was no escaping now. Not back to the quiet streets she once walked. Not back to the tiny house with its creaky floors and warm kitchen. And certainly not back to the comfortable beige couch she used to collapse onto after a long day. Her old life was gone. Completely gone. The peaceful rhythm of it—the early mornings, the soft music in the bakery, the gentle laughter of regular customers—already felt like memories from another lifetime. She would miss it. More than she dared admit. But this… This was a necessary evil. Because she had run out of choices a long time ago. Standing in that room full of predators, Risa felt something inside her settle with quiet finality. Her fate had been sealed the moment Marcus Vales walked into her life. And now, as the voices rose again in heated debate, her thoughts drifted—slowly, inevitably—back to where everything had begun. Back to a time when her world was smaller. Simpler. Safer. Back to the days before Marcus. Her mind slipped into memory. *************** “Honey, I’m home!” Risa’s voice rang through the quiet house as she pushed the door shut behind her. The sound echoed off the bare walls and dissolved into the stillness, unanswered and almost mocking. She dropped her bag onto the narrow wooden table by the entrance and leaned against the door with a long, dramatic groan. “Argh… I’m still single.” The confession floated into the empty living room and died there. The house had grown used to silence. It wore it like a second skin. No laughter drifted down the hallway. No clatter from the kitchen. No low murmur of familiar voices. Just the hum of nothing. Risa walked farther inside and collapsed onto the old beige couch. The cushions dipped under her weight with a tired sigh. She stared up at the ceiling fan that hadn’t worked in years. It hung above her like a decoration—visible, present, but utterly useless. Much like the sense of stability in her life. Living alone wasn’t new to her. It hadn’t been new for eight years. Eight years since the accident. Eight years since she had stood in a hospital hallway that smelled of antiseptic and hopelessness, clutching a nurse’s sleeve and waiting for someone to tell her it wasn’t real. Eight years since she had learned what true silence felt like. Her parents had left for work that morning and never returned. Since then, the house had belonged to her. At first, it felt enormous and frightening. Every creak of the floorboards had sounded like an intruder. Every shadow had seemed alive. She had learned to sleep with the lights on, then learned to endure the dark. She taught herself how to cook without burning the pot. How to fix a leaking tap with shaky hands. How to manage bills. How to swallow tears before they escaped. Most importantly, she taught herself how not to expect anyone to come home. Well… almost anyone. If there was one person who refused to let her drown in solitude, it was Molly. Molly had crashed into Risa’s life during tenth grade like a ray of unapologetic sunshine. Where Risa had grown quiet and withdrawn after the accident, Molly had been loud, fearless, and determined. She laughed too hard, talked too much, and made friends with alarming ease. She had noticed Risa sitting alone at lunch one afternoon and simply decided that wouldn’t do. From that day forward, Molly inserted herself into Risa’s life with stubborn affection. Where Risa was reserved, Molly was vibrant. Where Risa hesitated, Molly leaped. They were opposites in every visible way, yet somehow they fit together seamlessly. Now, years later, Molly remained the only person who could walk into Risa’s empty house and make it feel temporarily alive. Risa shifted on the couch and closed her eyes. Work had drained her. Running a small shop alone was no small task, especially when profits barely covered necessities. Every sale felt like a tiny victory. Every slow day felt like a looming threat. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but exhaustion wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. The sharp ringing of her phone cut through the quiet. Risa jerked upright, heart racing. She fumbled between the couch cushions until she found the device and squinted at the screen. Molly. Of course. She answered, barely managing a greeting before Molly’s voice burst through the speaker. “Get dressed. I’m coming to get you.” Risa blinked. “What? Where are we going?” “I’ll be there in an hour.” The line went dead. Risa stared at her phone. Typical Molly. No explanation. No room for debate. She let her head fall back against the couch and exhaled slowly. Molly had learned long ago that giving Risa details meant giving her time to overthink—and time to cancel. Reluctantly, Risa pushed herself up and walked into the kitchen. The fridge light flickered as she opened it. Inside sat a half-empty carton of milk, a single egg, and vegetables that had clearly seen better days. She grabbed a box of cereal from the cabinet and poured the last of it into a chipped bowl. “Man… I can’t even afford a proper meal,” she muttered under her breath. The words tasted bitter. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Her bakery had once belonged to her parents. It had been warm and busy, filled with loyal customers and laughter. After their deaths, she had clung to it desperately, refusing to let it disappear. But keeping it alive came at a cost. One that grew heavier each month. Before she could sink deeper into thought, the doorbell rang. She froze. The sound seemed too loud in the silent house. She hadn’t been expecting anyone yet. She totally forgot about her call with Molly. The bell rang again—longer this time. A slow chill crept along her spine. Risa set the bowl down carefully and reached for the nearest object that could pass as a weapon: a frying pan resting on the stove. It wasn’t much, but it made her feel slightly less vulnerable. “Who’s there?” she called, inching toward the door. A faint humming sound drifted from the other side. Her grip tightened. “Who is it?” “Risa, it’s me. Molly.” Relief flooded her system. Right. The hour had passed faster than she realized. She unlocked the door and opened it just enough for Molly to sweep inside dramatically. Her blonde bob framed her face perfectly, and her brown eyes flashed with impatience. “What the actual hell, Risa?” Molly demanded, glancing at her friend’s oversized shirt and bare face. “I told you to get dressed!” Risa blinked. “You said you were coming.” “Yes, and you were supposed to be ready!” Without waiting for further protest, Molly marched toward the bedroom as if she owned the place. Risa followed her reluctantly. “Where are we even going?” “To the club.” Risa stopped walking. “Absolutely not.” Molly turned slowly. “Excuse me?” “I’m tired. I have work tomorrow. And I don’t have money to waste.” Molly softened slightly but didn’t retreat. “Bills on me. You need a break.” Before Risa could argue further, Molly shoved her gently toward the bathroom. “Shower. I’ll pick your outfit.” The warm water cascaded over Risa’s burgundy curls as she stood beneath the spray. Her wet curly fringe getting in the way of her sight. Steam filled the small bathroom, fogging the cracked mirror. Then it occurred to her. The end of the month. The words echoed in her mind. Which meant one thing. They would come. For eight years, she had been paying off a debt that never seemed to shrink. She found out that her father borrowed money from a loan shark named ‘The Big Joe’ shortly after his death which caused her to hate him, but also love him because she knew he wouldn't borrow such amount of money if it wasn't necessary. At the same time this had made her to live the past eight years of her life in debt and misery. Every profit from her bakery—gone. Every spare dollar—collected. Loan sharks didn’t care about circumstances. They cared about money. For eight years, she had paid. Every month. Without fail. At least she managed to pay 5 million dollars out of the 10 million borrowed by her father. And every month, it felt like the debt barely shrank. A sharp knock on the bathroom door startled her. “Are you growing old in there?” Molly shouted. “Hurry up!” Risa quickly turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel before returning to the bedroom. She halted at the sight of the outfit Molly had laid out: a short black fur skirt and a white bra-like top. “There’s no way,” Risa said flatly. Molly placed her hands on her hips. “It’s perfect.” “It’s tiny.” “It’s fashion.” “It’s exposure.” Molly groaned. “You are impossible.” Ignoring the selected outfit, Risa opened her wardrobe and pulled out black shorts and an oversized polo shirt. Comfortable. Safe. Something she could move in if necessary. Molly stared at her in disbelief. “You’re tragic.” “It’s this or nothing.” After a dramatic sigh, Molly conceded. “Fine. But one day I’m setting that wardrobe on fire.” Risa changed quickly and brushed out her curls. She applied minimal makeup—just enough to quiet Molly’s commentary. They were heading toward the door when— BANG. The sound slammed into the wood with violent force. Both women froze. Another bang followed, harder. Risa’s stomach dropped. “That’s not funny,” Molly whispered. “It’s not you?” Risa asked. Molly shook her head. The knocking intensified, turning into pounding. “Open up!” a deep voice thundered from outside. The blood drained from Risa’s face. She knew that voice. Slowly, she approached the door, Molly behind her. Her hands trembled as she unlocked it and pulled it open a fraction. A massive figure filled the doorway. Before she could react, a heavy boot forced the door wider. “There you are,” the man growled. He was broad-shouldered and imposing, a scar slicing across his cheek. His eyes were cold and calculating as they swept over the room. “You think you can hide from us?” he asked. “I—I’m not hiding,” Risa stammered. He laughed darkly. “End of the month. You know what that means.” Molly stepped forward, her voice steady despite the tension. “You can’t just break into someone’s house.” He ignored her entirely. “You’re late,” he told Risa. “Boss doesn’t like late.” “I just need more time,” Risa pleaded. “Business has been slow. I’ll get it. I always do.” “No more extensions,” he replied. The words struck like a physical blow. “What happens if she doesn’t pay?” Molly demanded. The man’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “Then we collect something else.” Risa’s pulse pounded in her ears. “Maybe we take the shop,” he added casually. “No!I'll drop what I can” The word escaped her before she could stop it. The shop was the last piece of her parents she still had. He leaned closer, his presence suffocating. “Forty-eight hours. Full payment.” Relief mixed with terror in her chest. “If we don’t get it,” he continued, “we won’t be knocking next time.” He stepped back into the night. The door slammed shut. Silence settled again—but this time it was heavy, suffocating. Molly turned slowly toward Risa. “How much is left for this month’s payment?” “I have it already, I’m just fed up. I thought I could save some of the money I have, but I don't think that will be possible at this point.” Risa slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, staring at nothing. That money was all she had left. She'd have to work her ass off the next month. Suddenly, going to the club didn’t seem reckless. It seemed necessary. She needed to get her mind off things and forget her worries for a little while, even if it was just for a night.