The Thief and the Ruthless Mafia

I will make him pay! Emelia POV

I stumbled out of the hotel, barely managing to steady myself. My legs felt weak, like they might give out at any moment. Each step was torture, a reminder of everything that had happened. I could still feel his touch, his weight, his cruel smile etched into my memory like a scar. My skin crawled at the thought, but no amount of shivering could shake the feeling away.

The pain was there, sharp and unforgiving, and as I walked, a few people glanced my way. I caught one woman staring, her gaze lingering on me. "Miss, are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. I didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words. My mind was spinning, fragments of the night replaying over and over like a sick movie I couldn’t turn off.

Someone else murmured, "Your shirt… it’s stained." I froze, looking down, realizing she was right. The fabric was marked with blood. I couldn’t bear to look at it too long, though. I forced my feet to keep moving, ignoring the eyes around me, focusing on just getting away, away from everyone, away from him.

Tears blurred my vision, stinging my eyes until I could barely see the path ahead. Shame clung to me like a shadow, tightening its grip with every step. I didn’t want to think about it, about him, but the memories were relentless, clawing their way to the surface. I wanted to scream, to cry out until the ache in my chest loosened even a little. But no matter how much I wanted to forget, the truth lingered, twisting inside me, filling me with a hollow rage and a feeling I couldn't even name.

Finally, I reached my door, and without thinking, I pulled out my key and stumbled inside. My fingers shook as I turned the lock, closing myself off from the world, from anyone who might see the rawness on my face, the tremble in my hands. I dropped onto the floor, curling up, hugging my knees close to my chest as the sobs came, silent and heavy, each one tearing through me.

It took minutes—maybe hours—before I finally picked myself up, reaching for my phone and dialing the only person I could bear to talk to. Mira picked up on the second ring.

“Emelia?” Her voice was filled with warmth and worry, a lifeline I didn’t deserve. “What happened?”

I couldn’t even get the words out, could barely breathe without feeling the weight of it crushing me. “Mira… someone did something to me today. A man. He—he did something terrible.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was sharp, her concern transforming into something fiercer. “Em, where are you? Are you hurt?”

I swallowed, trying to pull myself together. “I… I left his hotel. I tried to get away, but… he made sure I couldn’t. He used me, Mira. He…” My voice cracked, the words sticking in my throat.

Mira cursed under her breath, her anger clear. “Em, I warned you. This line of work… It's dangerous. You can’t keep putting yourself in situations like this. Look what it’s done to you.”

“I know,” I whispered, feeling every bit of shame, every drop of regret. “I thought I could handle it. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

There was silence on her end, a heavy pause. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, gentler. “Em, you need to stop. You have to let this go before it destroys you completely.”

Her words hit me hard, slicing through the anger and pain. She didn't even comfort me, I felt like killing myself after what had happened to me. She was right. He had taken everything from me, stripped me of whatever self-respect I’d managed to hold onto. How could I go back to that life now?.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice shaking. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.” I pulled myself up, glancing around at the tools of my trade—small items I’d collected over the years to help me manipulate, to charm, to deceive. I gathered them all, tossing them into a bag, every piece of my past, and walked them straight to the trash. The clang as they hit the bottom felt like an end, a final, bitter goodbye.

I thought that would be it. I thought maybe I could start over, make something better of myself. But weeks passed, and reality hit harder than I expected. My money dwindled down, and soon I was left staring at a pile of bills, the weight of them pressing down on me like another curse.

I caught myself, more than once, glancing at the phone, thinking about calling one of my old contacts, slipping back into the life I swore I’d left behind. But every time, the thought of his face came rushing back, twisting my stomach, making me feel sick. I couldn’t go back to that life. I wouldn’t. But how was I going to survive without it?

One morning, the nausea was so sudden, so overwhelming, that I barely made it to the bathroom in time. I knelt over the toilet, gripping the edges, feeling the world spin around me. At first, I thought it was just the stress, the lack of food, maybe the sleepless nights finally catching up to me. But the sickness didn’t go away. It only grew worse, nagging at me day after day until I could no longer ignore it.

A thought crept in, slow and unwelcome. I tried to push it away, but it clawed its way back, lingering until I had no choice but to face it. There was only one explanation that made sense. Only one person who could possibly be responsible for this new, terrifying reality.

I wrapped my arms around myself, sinking to the floor as the truth settled over me, heavier than anything I’d ever felt. The man. The one who’d ruined me. The one I would call the “Devil Man" for the rest of my life.

I hated him for what he had done to me. He’d taken everything, and now, he had stolen my future.

I would make him pay. Every single piece of my soul screamed for revenge. I didn't know how, but I was going to make him regret the day he ever crossed paths with me.

This was only the beginning.