lawfully trapped with the Mafia boss

Annie’s POV “Run, Annie! Run to the safe room!” I heard Aunt Maria’s desperate shout amidst the chaos of gunfire. Her voice was filled with urgency, but there was no way I could leave her behind. Even though she was skilled in combat, she was heavily outnumbered. How could I abandon her? My heart pounded as I sprinted to the kitchen. My hands trembled as I grabbed the Smith & Wesson Model 686 revolver. I had memorized every detail about the weapon during Aunt Maria’s training sessions—it was a .357 Magnum with a six-round capacity, known for its accuracy and smooth trigger pull. I rushed back into the fray, positioning myself opposite Aunt Maria. I fired precisely, covering her as she fended off our attackers. For a moment, the two of us moved like a synchronized team—two women holding their ground in a hail of bullets. But then it happened. Aunt Maria was hit. The bullet struck her in the rib, and she stumbled, shouting, “Annie, run!” I froze for a split second, terror gripping me. There was no escape, not with bullets flying from every direction. But we couldn’t afford to lose focus. Our day had started so peacefully. We were enjoying supper when the attack came, enemies surrounding us like shadows in the night. Aunt Maria didn’t know how they found us, but we had no choice but to fight for our lives. The battle ended with us victorious, though the price was steep. Aunt Maria was injured, clutching her bleeding side, yet she still managed to stay on her feet. She staggered to her room, grabbed a small bag containing our documents and valuables, and then ordered me to drive us to the Dicosta mansion. I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she stopped me, her voice firm despite the pain. “No hospitals, Annie. Trust me.” As I drove, she spoke, her voice strained. “Annie, your parents… they’re alive. They wanted you to have a normal life, free from danger, but I failed them.” “What are you talking about?” I asked, confused and frightened. She handed me a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it and a stack of cash. “After you graduate, go to California. You’ll find answers there. Promise me you’ll survive, no matter what.” “Aunt Maria, please stop saying these things!” Tears streamed down my face. “I won’t survive without you!” “You’re stronger than you think,” she whispered. “Promise me.” “I promise,” I choked out, though my heart was breaking. At the Dicosta mansion, a medical team rushed to Aunt Maria. I followed, but they wouldn’t let me into the room where she was being treated. I waited, crying until I felt drained of emotion. Hours later, a doctor came out to inform me I could see her. Relief flooded me as I rushed to her bedside. Aunt Maria looked pale, her strength clearly waning. “Annie,” she said weakly, “the Dicosta family… they’re friends of our family. You can trust them. Stay with them until you graduate. Mr. Dicosta will take care of you.” She turned to Mr. Dicosta, who stood at the foot of her bed. “Take care of our princess. I know she’s in good hands.” I clung to Aunt Maria, tears streaming down my face. “You’ll be safe. They’ll protect you.” She smiled faintly and closed her eyes. “Aunt Maria!” I screamed, shaking her limp body. “Don’t leave me!” But she was gone. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life—graduating from university. I’d imagined it would be filled with pride and celebration. Instead, I felt a deep emptiness. As I watched my classmates embrace their families, I couldn’t help but feel bitter. Aunt Maria, the only family I had known, wasn’t here. And my parents? I didn’t even know what they looked like. At the Dicosta mansion, I’d learned the truth: Aunt Maria wasn’t a cleaner, as I’d been told. She was something far more important, though no one would say exactly what. I also discovered that the Dicosta family had funded my education, not out of charity, but because of a connection to my family, I still didn’t fully understand. In school, I was constantly mocked for being the “charity case.” Isabella Watson, the queen of bullies, made my life miserable by spreading rumours about my family. “Here comes the queen of the poor,” she would sneer. “I heard your mom was a home-wrecker who seduced a married man. Is it true?” Her group of followers would laugh cruelly. Those words used to cut deep, but over time, I learned to block them out. Aunt Maria always told me I was beautiful and that they were jealous. And maybe she was right. As I stood saying goodbye to one of my professors, Isabella approached her venomous smile in place. “Hey, Annie,” she sneered. “You’re graduating, huh? Too bad no one hires charity cases. You’ll be just as useless as ever.” Before I could respond, a commanding voice interrupted. “Says who?” I turned to see Mr. Dicosta himself, his gaze icy as he glared at Isabella. “You don’t deserve to stand in Annie’s shadow, let alone insult her. Stay away from her, or you’ll regret it.” Isabella paled, her confidence crumbling as she stumbled away. Mr. Dicosta turned to me, his expression softening. “Congratulations, princess. We’re so proud of you.” The words broke something inside me, and I burst into tears, clinging to him as I cried. His suit was soaked by the time I calmed down, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kissed my forehead gently. “You’ve come so far, Annie. Don’t let anyone dim your light.” A week after Aunt Maria’s death, Mr. Dicosta asked me if I wanted to work for the family business. “I’d love to,” I told him, “but I’m moving to California.” He smiled knowingly. “Our head office is in California. There’s a vacancy for the CEO’s secretary. Apply for it.” I did, and now I’m waiting for their call. I can’t help but wonder about the CEO, Matteo Dicosta. He’s in his 50s but looks like a Greek god—rugged, muscular, and commanding. If he’s that striking, I can only imagine what his sons look like. Mr Dicosta has been there for me from the moment Aunt Maria got shot; why is he helping me, or is it out of pity? I asked myself.