Book cover Submissive to the Billionaire mafia Boss

CHAPTER THREE

POV Tyler

My eyes slowly opened, the dim light from the room straining my vision. Everything was blurry at first, but gradually the shapes became clearer. The white ceiling, the dark furniture... and the muffled sound of someone fiddling with something.

I turned my head, feeling a dull pain in my shoulder. Ana, my secretary, was sitting beside me, a look of concern etched on her delicate face. She was holding a small damp cloth, gently wiping my forehead.

"Tyler?" Her voice was low, almost a whisper. When she realized I had woken up, she let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God, you're back!...”

My throat was dry, and my body felt heavier than lead. I blinked a few times before murmuring:"Where... where am I?"

Ana set the cloth aside and leaned a little closer, her brown eyes filled with caution.

"You’re in your room, Tyler. You're recovering."

I looked around, confirming her words. It was indeed my room. The familiar smell of leather and polished wood brought an odd sense of relief and discomfort.

"What... happened?" I continued, forcing my voice out.

Ana took a deep breath before answering.

"You were shot near the shoulder, but... you were lucky."

She paused, as if choosing her words carefully.

"The bulletproof vest you were wearing over your shirt protected you. The bullet didn’t penetrate, but the impact was strong enough to knock you down. If it weren’t for that..."

She stopped speaking, swallowing hard. I understood what she meant. If I hadn’t had that vest on, I’d be dead.

"You have already lost a lot of blood from the stab wound you suffered at the hospital. Another serious injury would’ve been fatal."

I laid my head back on the pillow, letting out a small, hoarse laugh.

"Bad blood’s hard to kill, Ana..." I murmured, managing a tired half-smile.

She furrowed her brow, clearly irritated by my nonchalant attitude, but she didn’t say anything.

With controlled effort, I adjusted myself in bed, feeling every muscle protest. It was then that I saw it. At the foot of the bed, neatly folded and separated, was a small black suit. Impeccable. Elegant.

My eyebrows furrowed, and my throat tightened.

"What’s this?" My voice came out rough, almost a whisper.

Ana froze, her face losing some of its color. She swallowed hard, looking away for a moment as if trying to gather the courage to speak.

"Tyler..." she began, but her voice faltered.

I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Ana..." I repeated, more firmly this time. "What is this?"

She closed her eyes for a brief instant and exhaled slowly, as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. When she finally looked back at me, her eyes were misty.

"It’s for... your son's funeral. Your father had it prepared for you to wear. The funeral is at two o’clock this afternoon. He was waiting for you to wake up," she said, her voice hesitant, swallowing hard.

Her words hit me with the force of a punch. The silence that followed was deafening. The air seemed to leave the room, leaving nothing but a suffocating emptiness.

My hands trembled involuntarily, clenching into fists on the sheet. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed hard, choking down any sign of weakness.

At that moment, the door was suddenly thrown open with a loud bang, and to my misfortune, the face of that man appeared. He stormed into the room, furious, and ordered Ana to leave.

"LEAVE, NOW!" He yelled, trying to keep his voice controlled.

Ana became so nervous that her hands shook, and she dropped the damp cloth on the floor. She knew my father’s reputation well—Paul Blackwood, the most cruel and relentless man of all time, capable of punishing even his own son with lashes if he did anything wrong. But deep down, I admit I was lucky. After all, out of my siblings, I was the only one who survived to tell the tale. I’ve lost count of how many funerals I’ve been to, but even the death of my brothers can’t compare to the pain of losing a child.

"LEAVE, YOU b***h, FILTHY, BEFORE I DRAG YOU OUT OF HERE BY YOUR HAIR!" My father shouted again, impatient.

I simply gestured for Ana to leave, and she obeyed with her head down. She didn’t dare to look my father in the eye, who seemed to be steaming with rage.

“b***h, worthless! " I should teach her a lesson, so she never dares to disobey me again,” my father whispered as soon as Ana left, leaving us alone in the room.

“You forgot that you’re in my house, in my room, on my property, and that all my employees report directly to me. She was just waiting for my confirmation to leave the place!” I shrugged, not caring. But before I could realize it, he threw a strong punch against my face, making my body leap to the other side of the bed and almost fall to the floor.

“You worthless piece of s**t!” he began, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You had one job: protect the kids!”

His growl of anger made my insides churn. The veins on his forehead were pulsating, and his eyes were filled with hatred that seemed to feed off my pain.

“But look at you now! Useless, thrown on a bed, unable to even get up for the funeral of your own children. " Tell me, Tyler, how do you have the nerve to keep breathing after this?”

I clenched my fists, feeling the blood trickling from the cuts on my lips. Paul didn’t stop.

“When you were a child, no one dared to enter my house and hurt you or any of your brothers! I protected you with everything I had. And now, look at you! You let a bastard invade your house, shoot you, and kill my grandchildren! This would never have happened to me!”

His words came like a punch, but I didn’t lower my head. I took a deep breath, my chest burning from both physical pain and the rage that was boiling inside me.

“You talk about protection, Paul?” my voice came out low, but laced with venom. “Let me remind you of something.”

He narrowed his eyes but didn’t interrupt.

“You’ve always been a hypocrite. You say you protected me, but you’re the one who sent Josh on a suicide mission. He wasn’t prepared; He was too young, inexperienced, and you knew that! Yet you sent him to his death!”

The words came out like a roar, each one carrying years of resentment.

Paul shrugged, his face remaining unshaken, as if nothing I said could affect him.

“I knew this could happen,” he said with a coldness that made me want to punch him right then and there. “That’s why I had so many kids. This job isn’t for the weak, Tyler. Only the strongest survive, and you’re the one who survived. You’re the one who became my successor.”

He took a step toward me, pointing an accusing finger at me.

“But the twins?” he continued, his voice now full of fury. “They didn’t even have a chance to fight because you failed! You, Tyler! It was your carelessness that killed them. And now, you want to blame someone?”

My vision was blurred. The world seemed to shrink until only he and I remained.