Under The Mafia King's Control

CHAPTER 1- Trouble In Daylight

CRAAASH!

A loud sound tore through the entire house, followed by a rush of different chaotic noises. It felt as if an earthquake was ripping the entire house apart. The walls of my bedroom shook violently, causing my graduation awards and the framed degree I hung proudly above my desk to fall to the floor, shattering into pieces. I jolted up from my chair instantly, just as I was about to submit my millionth job application.

Fear gripped me tightly, I genuinely thought the apocalypse had begun; it was the only explanation my panic-stricken mind could come up with.

I sprinted towards the door. I needed to investigate the source of the havoc, and to make sure my father was okay. He’d already survived one heart attack; another shock like this could kill him.

But as my hand reached for the door knob, I heard an unfamiliar voice, deep and husky, coming from the other side. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew for certain that wasn’t my father.

Intruders? There were intruders in the house? But what kind of intruders destroyed a house so violently? What could they possibly want from us? We didn’t have anything worth stealing.

My first instinct was to grab my phone and dial 911, praying the police would get here in time. But before I could hit the call button, I heard another voice, weak and strained.

My father.

Fuck.

Without thinking, I lunged out of my room. The noises were louder now. Whoever these intruders were, they were clearly in the living room.

I burst in, my stomach twisting at the horrific scene before me. The window panes had all been wrecked, like a human being had been thrown through them. Family photos lay scattered across the floor, frames broken, some pictures torn. The tiny television set I had managed to buy just three months ago at a flea market was smashed beyond recognition, its screen cracked with glass fragments littering the tiles.

There were three massive men in dark suits that fit tightly like armor. Their faces were unreadable but unmistakably sinister. They stood at different corners of the room, armed with weapons. The kind of men you’d expect to see guarding a VIP section at a high-end club.

One held a baseball bat, swinging it with brutal force. I was just in time to see him crashing the coffee table into countless shards sprawled across the floor. Another slashed through the couches and pillows with a long curved knife, foam flying like snow as if searching for something invisible.

The third just stood there , looming over my father, who lay on the floor like a fragile doll. He looked unharmed, but seeing him like that, something snapped inside me. Fear evaporated, replaced by a raw anger that climbed from my chest to my throat. My hands trembled, and a roar erupted out of me.

“Who are you people? What are you doing here?!” I screamed, my voice echoing loudly through the walls.

They ignored me completely, like I wasn’t even there. I stood like a fool while they continued their acts of destruction, unfazed by my presence.

Then the one with the knife turned sharply towards the front door and shouted, “There’s nothing here, boss.” I followed his gaze, curious about who he was speaking to. A man stood in the doorway, calm and composed, watching.

There was something dark and brooding about him. His composure and carriage made the entire situation feel ten times more deadly. Dressed in an immaculate grey suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and chiseled chest, his dark slicked-back hair glistened, even under the dim, low-quality light.

I’d never seen him before. My father’s friend maybe? No, he was too expensive, too intimidating.

Something told me that whatever this man was here for, things wouldn’t end well.

“Check the rooms,” he replied calmly. His voice was deep and velvety, the kind that could soothe and command all at once.

The henchman immediately started down the hall.

I stepped in front of him, bracing myself.

“You’re not going anywhere.” My voice shook with defiance. I expected him to shove me aside, or throw me to the floor, but he didn’t. Instead, he slowly turned his attention towards the mystery man, they all did, waiting for their next order.

The man gave a sharp nod to the henchman standing over my father. Without hesitation, the henchman drew a gun I hadn’t noticed before and c****d it directly at my father.

On instinct, I threw myself over him, his frail, small body trembling against mine.

“STOP! PLEASE!” I pleaded, voice filled with panic. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. Please… don’t kill him.”

“Hasn’t done anything wrong?”

The deep voice spoke again. He walked to the center of the room in a calm manner, too calm for someone who wanted to end a life.

Seeing him more clearly now, I felt an irresistible attraction despite everything happening around us.

He folded his arms and looked right at me with an intense piercing gaze. It felt like he could read my thoughts, my fear.

“Young lady,” he continued, “Your father owes me three million dollars. Now, I’m not a patient man, but I’ve given more time than I usually would considering the… circumstances.” He looked round our tiny apartment condescendingly.

Three million dollars? Impossible. There’s no way my father would have taken that kind of money and still be living like this, sick and barely holding on.

“That’s not possible.” I said confidently. “This must be some kind of mistake. There’s no way my dad could borrow three million dollars… right dad?” I looked at him, searching his face, desperately waiting for him to reassure me so I could call the police and get these men arrested.

But he stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the floor with shame.

“Dad?” I shook him violently, refusing to believe that any of this could be true. That my father would betray me like this.

The man smirked, obviously enjoying it all.

“As I was saying.” He turned to my father. “Mr Bennett, when I invest, I expect returns.” He began circling us slowly. “You owe me a lot of money, and time is interest. So, either you pay me my money right here, right now. Or…” He pointed at the man c*****g the gun. “You pay me with your life.”

“NO!” I screamed, squeezing my eyes shut, terrified he’d pull the trigger at any second. “There has to be another way,” I choked out. “Please. I’m begging you. He… he’s sick. Please I’ll do anything.”

His eyes locked on mine, slow and hungry. “Anything?’

My throat went dry. I forced myself to nod, preparing for the worst.

“You’ll work for me at my estate,” he finally said, stepping close enough that I could feel his minty breath against my cheek. “House staff, assistant, whatever I decide you are. You’ll serve until I say the debt is gone. One mistake, and the deal is off.” His voice reduced to a whisper. “Which means your father dies.”

I looked at my father, pale and defenseless beneath me. His chest rose in weak, shallow breaths, each one sounding like it might be his last. I couldn’t piece together what was happening, what he had gotten himself into, or why he’d kept it from me. All I knew was that I had no choice. He was the only person I had left in the world.

“Fine,” I swallowed hard. “I’ll do it.”

The man stood up, triumph across his face like a victory banner. “Glad to know at least one of you isn’t completely useless.”

He snapped his fingers, his gaze still fixed on me intensely. I could tell he was already imagining what he would do with me. Like clockwork, his henchmen lowered their weapons and filed out the door, their heavy footsteps creaking the already unstable floorboards.

He didn’t move at first. Only when the last of them disappeared did he stroll toward the door.

Just as he was about to step out, he paused.

He cast one last look my way, a wicked smile curling across his lips, one that sickened me to my stomach.”

“If you run away,” he warned, his tone disturbingly casual, “I’ll find you and kill both you and your pathetic father.

The door slammed shut.

I didn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, until I heard their car engines roar and fade into the night.

My body trembled uncontrollably, my pulse hammering like a loud drum in my chest. My mind was a mix of terror and disbelief, but the moment I glanced at my father, everything snapped back into focus.

“Dad,” I whispered, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?“

“I’m okay Andy,” he murmured, his voice shaky. That was his pet name for me. “I just… I just need to clean up, that’s all.”

But he wasn’t okay. His shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat. His hands were unsteady as he tried to sit up. Dread coiled in me, but more than that, hot anger flared. The betrayal was too much too bear.

“How could you do this, Dad?” my voice cracked despite my best efforts. “When did you even take a loan of 3 million dollars? Who are those people?” Questions slammed in my mind like a storm, refusing to let me think straight.

He flinched and shut his eyes, as if the truth itself weighed too much.

“How did you think I was able to pay for your mother’s surgery?” he breathed out, exhaustion evident in his voice. “I had nowhere else to turn to. A friend of mine introduced me to Ethan Vance. He gave me the money… I was supposed to pay it back, with interest, six months ago. I thought I could get more time… I…” His body collapsed, tears spilling freely as his shoulders quivered.

Ethan Vance.

The name hit me like a hard punch. I’d heard of him, I doubt there was anyone who hadn’t. He was the most ruthless mafia king in the city. A man people only dared to speak about in hushed tones.

Stories of his crimes were everywhere. Kidnappings, arsons, ruthless deals; everyone knew, yet he was never arrested. The police were too afraid to chase him.

I couldn’t believe it. Ethan Vance, THE Ethan Vance, had been in our living room just moments ago, in person. My father had borrowed all that money from the most dangerous man alive to save my mom’s life. And she still died.

How could I possibly be mad at him?

The anger faded, replaced by pity and admiration for the extreme lengths he had gone to.

“I wish you told me about this.” I said softly, wrapping my arms around his battered frame. “I would’ve done something… raised something at least.”

He coughed, a harsh and rattling sound, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “Andrea… how long have you been looking for a job? Where would you have gotten the money from?” His hands cupped my face, surprisingly gentle for a man so broken. “Look at me. This is my mess, and I’ll fix it myself. I never meant to drag you into this. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

I shook my head, “I can’t let you die.” My fingers held on to his shoulders, desperate to revive his spirit. “I’ll work for him. I’ll be fine.” I let out a dry, bitter laugh, trying to make light of the situation “I guess I finally have a job.”

He didn’t respond. I sighed, acknowledging my failed attempt to cheer him up. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I cleaned and bandaged his bruises, careful with every touch as he winced in pain. His face looked shrunken and tired, the lines on his forehead deeper than before.

Once I had helped him settle into sleep, I moved to clean the living room. Shards of glass glimmered on the floor as I gathered them, mindful not to cut myself. A picture of mom caught my eye, her warm, cheerful smile a reminder of happier times. My chest ached all over again. “I miss you, mom,” I murmured, tracing my fingers over the torn edges.

The sharp ring of my phone interrupted the quiet, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I picked up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Pack your things. My men are coming to get you.” A deep voice commanded on the other end. It sounded eerily familiar, though I couldn’t place it. “You’ll move into my house tonight,” it added. “I like my debts where I can see them.” Shocked by the audacity, I demanded. “Who is this?”

Click… silence.

Before I could react, a loud knock hit the door. Two of the same men from earlier barged in immediately.

I had no idea why they even bothered knocking, it’s not like they intended to wait for permission.

“You have one hour to pack your things and come with us, or we’ll bundle you out.” One of them threatened, his tone sharp and rude.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” I shot back, standing my ground.

The other man let out a cold laugh. “There’s no deal. You belong to Mr. Vance now.” He leaned closer, his eyes bloodshot.

“Welcome to hell.”