Married To The Ruthless Mafia Lord

Chapter 6

Clara’s POV

Three days. I hadn’t stepped out of my room in three whole days.

And no, it wasn’t one of those pretty “healing” kind of isolations where someone hides under their blanket, eats ice cream, and cries dramatically. No. This was the kind where you lie on the cold side of the bed, heart racing every time you hear footsteps, and your stomach eating itself because you can’t even keep a spoonful of soup down without throwing up the memory of someone getting their head blown off.

I was trembling all the time now. I couldn’t stop it and worst of all I couldn’t control it. I kept hearing the gunshot. Over and over again. That way blood sipped out of that man’s lifeless body and the stench that came afterwards. The way Zane didn’t even blink when he pulled the trigger.

It kept playing in my head like a stuck record.

Elena came in with food, tried to talk to me, begged me to eat. But all I ever said was, “I want to go home.”

Except I had no home to go back to. It was ashes now—burnt down, destroyed—just like everything else in my life.

But still, I couldn’t stay here.

And then today came. I knew something was wrong the second the knock hit my door. It wasn’t Elena’s soft, concerned knock. This one was sharp and very loud.

“Ms. Clara. You’ve been summoned.”

It was Bongo. Of course it could only be him.

I stayed frozen under the covers my mouth trembling to answer but I didn’t respond—I stayed mute.

The door creaked open anyway, and there he was—big, silent, and not the kind of man to listen to excuses.

“I’m not going,” I croaked, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer but stood there anyway, waiting.

“I want to leave,” I tried again, dragging my legs off the bed, even though they felt like jelly. “Please, just tell him… I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

Bongo’s blank stare didn’t change. “He said now.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stood. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I made my way slowly to his study.

The cold Zane Bellucci waited for me—his wife. A dangerous man I’ve now come to know never to play with, no matter what.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, veins in his forearms pulsing like he’d been pacing the room waiting to explode.

“Sit,” he finally said, voice like knives.

I stayed standing because I couldn’t move. My knees wouldn’t even cooperate.

“I said sit.” Louder now.

I flinched, sat immediately, but didn’t look him in the eye. I couldn’t dare.

He came around the desk and leaned against it, towering over me. His silence was even worse than yelling.

“You’ve been playing dead for three days,” he finally spoke again. “What exactly were you hoping to achieve?”

“I want to go,” I whispered, looking up at him. “Please, Zane. I don’t want any of this. I don’t want to be married to you. I’d rather sleep on the road than stay in this place.”

He stared at me then let out a laugh. Not the kind of laugh that said anything was funny—but the kind that said I was stupid for even thinking I had a choice.

“Are you done?” he asked, his jaw ticking.

“I mean it. Whatever deal we made… cancel it. You can find someone else to act the part. I’m not cut out for this—I wasn’t built for this life.”

“Shut up.” He yelled and I froze.

“Everything went to hell the night we got married,” he continued, voice low and dangerous. “You walked into my world, and my father got shot the same night. And now he’s in a coma.”

“I didn’t—”

“You think I care what you did or didn’t do?” he growled, stepping closer. “You were there and that’s enough for me to start asking questions. It’s enough for me to look at you and see nothing but a walking red flag.”

Tears stung my eyes. “I didn’t know anyone would get hurt, I didn’t even know I would be getting married that night, you can’t blame me for anything. I swear—”

He grabbed my arm—tight—pulling me up until we were inches apart.

“I don’t care what you swear. You’re not going anywhere. You’ll sit your pretty little ass in this house and play the perfect wife until my father wakes up and tells me why I’m married to you, and whether or not you were part of something f****d up.”

My lips trembled and I could barely breathe.

“If he dies,” Zane said, his face so close I could feel the heat of his anger, “then you better start praying. Because the only thing keeping you alive is his heartbeat.”

He let go of me roughly, and I stumbled back.

But just as I was about to break down again, the door burst open, revealing a woman.

Her heels clicked against the pavement as she ushered herself in, without permission.

She was tall, thin—model-thin, with cheekbones that looked like they’d been sculpted in a lab and her eyes full of fire.

“Zane?” Her voice sliced through the air like glass. “What the actual hell is this?!”

Zane didn’t react and definitely didn’t even move.

“Tell me this is a lie,” she continued, storming up to him, pointing at me. “You married that… that thing?!”

I swallowed hard, feeling like I was about to disappear into the floor.

Zane didn’t even look my way. He grabbed her by the waist, leaned in—and kissed her right in front of me.

I watched like someone in a daze. Like this couldn’t actually be happening.

When he finally pulled back, she was breathless and a smug grin tugged at his lips.

“She’s just a name on paper Courtney,” he said coolly. “This marriage is for business and for show only. You know I could never marry someone like her.”

His words hit harder than any slap. Not that I cared but he didn’t have to say it while I was here.

“Why did you travel down here without letting me know?” Zane probbed.

“I had to make sure what Asher had told me was true and that’s why I’ll be staying here for a while.” She said, trailing his cheekbone with her long nails.

“That bastard.” Zane mumbled, his hands forming into a fist.

Courtney turned to me with a venomous smirk.

“You think this makes you special?” she hissed. “Don’t fool yourself. You’re nothing but a joke so make sure to always in your lane, girl.

And just like that, she walked out without waiting for a response.

Zane lit a cigarette, blew out smoke, and didn’t even look at me.

“I’d like to leave.” My voice trembled.

He paused, stared at me then nodded.

Immediately I got the signal, I ran—ran all the way to my room.

I slammed the door shut behind me, dropped to the floor, and let everything go as I sobbed quietly.

I didn’t belong here and I never would. I wasn’t made for this world. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

My hands curled around my necklace, my fingers trembling as I held onto the only thing that still felt real. The only thing that I had left of my dad.

I gripped it hard—too hard—and something snapped, making a clicking sound.

I paused, taking it off my neck gently.

I looked down and saw the pendant slightly open and there, hidden inside, was something small and metallic.

“A key?” I muttered.

My breath caught in my throat as I tried to pull it out. I’ve had this necklace for years, and not once did I ever notice this.

Why did dad keep this here, and what does it open?