Becoming the Cruel Mafia's Wife

Chapter 4: A Threat

I stared directly into his eyes, those dark eyes as deep as his soul. His harsh words reverberated in my mind, but I can't let them go unnoticed.

My rational side urged me to flee—to escape from him, his family, and this house—and go somewhere far away where he couldn't reach me. But the other part of me, the part that refuses to be defeated, humiliated, or threatened, wanted to stand up.

"No."

"What did you just say?"

His expression shifted to one of darkness, malice, and threat, but I stood my ground.

"I said what you heard, Damon. Whether or not I become pregnant, I will leave, and I will do so without taking a single penny from you."

"You wouldn't dare!" His voice boomed through the grand dining room, punctuated by a slam on the table.

"Yes, I would. You may be my husband, and our marriage may not have been the most conventional, but you have no claim over my body, let alone the right to make decisions for me. Are you so heartless as to destroy your own flesh and blood?" I confronted him. "I hope I'm not carrying your child. I hope I never will be, so that when you die, your legacy and your lineage will die with you. You are a cruel and merciless man who hides behind a facade of sophistication. But remember this: I, too, can hide behind this innocent face. The saying goes both ways with you: 'A known devil is better than an unknown angel.' So do not underestimate me," I whispered with a deceptive calm.

Even as I faced my potential exile, I held his gaze. My heart pounded in my chest, the sound was almost deafening. For a moment, I considered fleeing and not looking back, but that would only confirm his power over me, and while it's not entirely untrue, I refused to show it so easily.

I took my seat again under his sharp gaze. I didn't lower my head. I noticed that the containment of his cruelty was about to explode and come to light. I've put it on the line, but if I want to survive here, I'll always do it with my head held high.

I couldn't stand a whole year at all.

"Come closer," he commanded.

I hesitated, unsure if I should comply. The sight of his intimidating entourage made my decision for me. I didn't want to be subjected to their touch, like a pack of wolves in fancy suits.

I stood tall, my head held high, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. In moments like these, it wasn't just me anymore; I was bracing myself for what was about to unfold. His piercing gaze warned me of one thing: danger.

But I refused to back down. I chose to confront him head-on, facing my own fears with dignity. Despite his defense of me, I knew I had made a mistake, and he wouldn't let it slide.

Just as I was about to approach, he reached out and tightly grasped my wrist, causing me to grit my teeth to hide the pain he inflicted upon me.

"Threaten me again, in front of my men or anyone else, and you'll regret it, Abigail. Do you understand me?" he growled, his face contorted with suppressed anger and the desire to make me break down. But I wouldn't allow it.

"You're hurting me," I managed to say.

"And do you think I care?" He pulled me closer. "I asked you a question, and I demand an answer."

"It's crystal clear, Damon."

His eyes, so dark, reflected the depth of his soul. After a brief moment of scrutiny, he released his hold and straightened his posture.

"Come sit next to me, so we can have breakfast in peace," he said.

I clenched my teeth so tightly, fearing they might shatter at any moment. Despite my trembling legs and racing heart, I took a seat beside him. With shaky hands, I began to eat, ignoring his intense gaze.

The only sound in the room was the clinking of cutlery against plates. I felt like I was suffocating in the vast emptiness around me, but I knew it was just my own fears. Finishing my meal, I asked, "May I go now, or is there something else you need to say?"

"You may leave, but remember my words," he replied.

Without meeting his eyes, I stood up and left the room, feeling the weight of his stare on my back. As I reached the staircase, I saw Mrs. Eliza, who gave me a sympathetic look.

"He must have heard the commotion and seen everything," she whispered.

"Could we put some ice on it in my room?" I asked softly, not wanting him to witness my tears.

My lips quivered, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

"Wait for me there. I'll be right behind you," she assured me.

As she flashed me a sweet smile, she gracefully made her way to the kitchen. My heart raced, and I practically sprinted up the stairs. Reaching my room, I hurriedly approached the windows and eagerly opened them, craving a breath of fresh air. Stepping out onto the balcony, I settled into one of the plush chairs, gazing out at the garden while tenderly caressing my injured wrist with my other hand.

Silently, I allowed my tears to stream down my cheeks, cascading onto my chest. Taking a deep, heavy breath, I searched for a way to calm myself and prevent myself from falling apart.

"I need to be strong."

The mere thought of the possibility of being pregnant and being coerced into having an abortion terrified me. I fervently prayed to God that this would never come to pass. Despite the doctors assuring me of my fertility and well-being, at that moment, I longed for a barren, scarred womb, never to bear a child from that heartless and cruel man.

Mrs. Eliza entered the room, wordlessly placing a cold gel pack on my wrist. She remained silent as I took another deep breath, allowing my tears to release all the emotions I was currently experiencing.

"You were incredibly brave out there."

Her motherly voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I pondered whether my bravery was truly bravery or simply recklessness, but if it meant protecting myself from someone who harmed me, I would always choose to be "bold" in confronting him.

"Mr. Damon isn't all bad."

I finally turned to face her, raising an eyebrow. "He's nothing more than a man haunted by his past, Mrs. Abby... If you knew the truth, I believe you would understand some of the reasons behind his behavior."

"Will you tell me?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

She immediately refused my request by looking away.

I pursed my lips, contemplating the situation. If she knew my secrets, maybe she would understand and justify me. But revealing anything about Damon and me feels like it's light years away. For now, I'll just have to face the consequences of my decisions and survive them.

As I rubbed the cold gel in my hand to relieve the discomfort, Mrs. Eliza got up and assured me that she would be busy with her work. She kindly offered her assistance if I needed anything.

I couldn't help but wonder if she could provide me with some money to save the company. It would be a relief if she could just snap her fingers and make me sterile.

Feeling the need to confide in my mother, I searched for my cell phone and sent her a message, informing her that I would be coming home.

While waiting for her response, I decided to take a shower to relax and wash away his touch from my skin.

Standing in front of the mirror, I carefully combed my hair and adjusted my skirt and blouse. I was wearing a simple yet elegant lilac skirt and blouse set. The blouse had puffed shoulders and a sweetheart neckline, tastefully revealing just a hint of skin. I paired it with white heels and adorned myself with a beautiful pearl necklace.

After applying perfume, I secured the chain of my bag across my body. With my phone safely tucked away, I left my room, prepared to not return until dinner.

As I descended the stairs, my eyes caught sight of Damon effortlessly crossing in his wheelchair, accompanied by one of his loyal men. The moment he noticed my presence, he raised his hand, signaling for me to halt. With a piercing gaze from his intense dark eyes, he scrutinized me from head to toe.

A lump formed in my throat as I felt my heart shatter under the weight of his scrutiny. Nevertheless, I continued my descent, lowering my head in an attempt to avoid his piercing gaze.

"Where do you think you're going? I don't recall granting you permission to leave," he asserted.

"I don't recall needing your permission, Damon. I'm simply heading to my mother's house, as I always do at this time," I lied, my voice laced with defiance. "Or do you plan on taking that away from me as well?"

His jaw clenched, and I observed his hands tightening their grip on the armrests of his wheelchair. Even if he had the ability to walk, I was certain he would have slapped me for my audacity.

I was taking a risk, but I no longer cared.

"The only thing I would want to take from you is the possibility of a child," he retorted, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "As for the rest, Abigaíl, you can do as you please. But remember this: if the thought of being with another man ever crosses your mind while you are my wife, you will deeply regret it. Judging by your attire, I highly doubt your visit to your mother's house is as innocent as you claim. Keep in mind that my men will be watching you, lurking in the shadows. Dare to be alone with anyone other than me, and I will not hesitate to destroy you and your family."

"Are you insinuating that I am meeting another man?" I scoffed, looking at him with disdain, brushing off his sudden threat to our marriage. Damon was truly deranged, and now I have firsthand proof that all the rumors about him were undeniably true.

He is a ruthless and cruel man.