THE MAFIA'S OBSESSION

CHAPTER THREE:I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE

ELENA…

I walked back to my desk after handing Mr. Locca his check-up schedule. My hands were still a little shaky, something about being close to him always rattled me in ways I couldn’t explain.

Before I could settle in, Hazza strolled over, her grin already suspicious. I knew what was coming.

“OHHHH… He’s soooo hotttt,” she practically collapsed onto my desk like she was fainting, one hand over her heart.

I burst into laughter at her dramatic scene. Of course, she was talking about Pedro. Ever since he came in, she hadn’t shut up about how handsome he was. Which... fine? She wasn’t wrong. But still… nobody could ever compare to my fiancé.

“I could give you his details, yeah?” I teased, watching her pout like a lovesick teenager.

“Tch, please. You act so clueless sometimes, Elena. It’s obvious he has eyes for you.”

Here she went again. I sighed, setting my pen down and giving her a look.

“Hazza, I’m engaged.”

She rolled her eyes and perched herself on the edge of my desk like she owned it. “You don’t even know when you’ll actually have your wedding.”

“I love Daniel,” I said firmly. My voice didn’t waver. It couldn’t. I went back to shuffling papers, trying to end the conversation.

Hazza leaned in closer, her smile mischievous. “You’re so boring sometimes, Elena. Even his friend noticed the way he looked at you.”

And with that, she skipped back to her desk like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in my lap.

Her words lingered.

Could someone like him ever feel something for me? A man as sophisticated, as dangerous, as cold-looking as Pedro Locca?

Hell no. I shook the thought out of my head immediately.

But the truth? I couldn’t lie.

I had noticed it too, the way he looked at me.

After work, I headed straight home. I was tired, but the thought of seeing Daniel waiting for me always gave me butterflies. As I drove, I noticed something strange: a black van had trailed me since leaving the hospital.

Tch... who was I kidding? Why would anyone waste their time following me around? Still, the uneasiness lingered.

When I got home, I parked right beside Daniel’s latest Tesla. Yes, that Tesla. Just seeing it made me smile. I grabbed my bag and hurried up the steps, almost like a little girl rushing to her mother after school. My heart was racing with excitement.

I knocked, and soon the door creaked open. Without thinking twice, I jumped into his arms. He caught me mid-air, strong and steady.

“Someone missed me,” he teased with a smirk, pecking my cheek.

“Hiii,” I giggled, sounding like a child. But I didn’t care, I loved being with him. He was my world, and somehow, he controlled every mood I had.

Daniel was 6’2, with a broad chest I always loved to rest my head on. His hair was long, braided neatly by me of course, and his nose, slightly broad, gave him a sharp sense of smell. But what melted me every time were his hazel eyes. The way he looked at me made me feel like I was in heaven.

“How was work?” he asked, carrying me to the nearby couch and setting me down gently.

“It was good… but I felt like a car was watching me,” I blurted without thinking.

His mood changed instantly. The bright smile and warmth vanished, replaced with a cold glare. My stomach sank. He moved quickly toward the window, pulling the curtains aside. My heart skipped when he froze.

There it was. The same black van, parked meters away from the house. As soon as Daniel spotted it, the van drove off.

He turned to me, his jaw tight. “Why do you think a black van would follow you, Elena?” His voice rose, and fear crept down my spine.

Daniel was loving, kind, playful… but when his anger took over, it was something I dreaded more than anything. His temper was dangerous.

“I… I don’t know,” I stammered, swallowing hard. “I’m not the van.” My voice cracked as I tried to step back, putting distance between us.

His eyes darkened, red with fury. My chest tightened. I knew then, I was in big trouble.

He closed the space between us in a flash, his presence suffocating. “Are you seeing someone, Elena?”

My eyes widened. That question stunned me. “Huh? I don’t understand… What do you mean by that? I’m not seeing anyone—” Before I could finish, his hand shot out. He grabbed me by the neck and hurled me across the room. My body hit the floor hard, crashing into a flower vase that shattered beside me. Pain spread through me, and tears pricked my eyes.

This was why I feared his anger. This was why my love for him was tangled in dread. Daniel loved me, yes, but when rage consumed him… he beat me.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl who looked back at me. My eyes were red and swollen, streaked with the evidence of tears I had been fighting for hours. My bottom lip trembled as I pressed my palm against the glass, trying to hold myself together, but the truth cut deeper than any bruise on my skin. I wasn’t just disappointed in Daniel. I was disappointed in myself, because I was still here. Because I was still making excuses.

How am I supposed to survive once we’re married? The thought gnawed at me, twisting my chest painfully. The wedding was only months away, and instead of excitement, all I felt was dread. I loved him, yes, but what kind of love leaves you bleeding on the inside? What kind of love makes you afraid to breathe too loudly?

The sound of the door creaking open made my heart lurch into my throat. I hurriedly wiped my face, erasing every trace of weakness. He couldn’t see me like this. He couldn’t know how much he was breaking me.

Daniel walked in slowly, carrying a bouquet of roses. Red roses, rich, beautiful, and soft to the eye. But I didn’t see their beauty. Through the mirror, all I saw were the sharp thorns hidden beneath their elegance. That was Daniel. Beautiful to the world, dangerous to me.

“I’m sorry, Elena. I lost it,” he said quietly as he placed the flowers on my bed.

The words landed heavy in the room. I knew them too well. They had become his lullaby after the storm, his excuse after every blow. Usually, I would nod, force a smile, and tell him, It’s fine. Everyone gets angry. We’ll work on it. But tonight, the words burned in my throat.

My lips quivered before the question slipped out in a broken whisper. “Why did you have to hit me?”

I didn’t turn to look at him. I couldn’t. I kept my eyes fixed on his reflection instead, searching for remorse, for anything real. My chest rose and fell rapidly as tears poured again, raw and uncontrollable.

Daniel didn’t answer me right away. Instead, he walked up behind me, his shadow looming over my fragile frame. He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to my forehead, so gentle it almost felt like mockery.

“I’ll work on myself,” he muttered, his voice calm, too calm. And then, just like he always did, he turned and walked out, leaving me in a silence that screamed louder than his anger ever could.

That was Daniel’s pattern: strike, soften, then abandon. He broke me, then left me to gather my own pieces.

I sat frozen for a long moment, my breath hitching as I tried to steady myself. The roses lay untouched on the bed, and all I could see were the thorns. With shaky hands, I reached for my phone. My fingers trembled so badly I almost dropped it. I needed a voice. I needed her.

Scrolling through my contacts, I found Hazza’s name and pressed dial. As the line rang, tears kept streaming down my cheeks. My heart pounded with both relief and shame. Relief that someone might listen. Shame that I had let myself sink this far.

“Elena?” Hazza’s warm voice finally came through, filled with concern. That one word broke me. I pressed the phone tighter to my ear and sobbed silently, struggling to f

ind my voice.

“Hazza…” I whispered, my throat raw. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”