Mafia Damian's Bride

Five years ago, Damian Tucker, a 28-year-old Black man with blue eyes and short black hair styled in an Afro cut, sat in his office chair on the fifth floor of a magnificent five-story building. He had several tattoos: an eagle on his right arm, a cross on his left arm, and two women tattooed on his right chest. Damian was a mafia boss, respected and feared in his territory. He ruled the secret mafia world and underground cartel in North Haven. Inside his office, wearing a black suit, he sat behind his desk, working on his laptop to check his online businesses. His office was painted white. A knock on the door interrupted him as his assistant, Jeff Brody, stepped in, dressed in black. "Boss, Mr. Max Dawson is here to see you," Jeff said. Damian sighed. His father had just handed over the leadership position to him. He looked at Jeff and replied, "Let him in." Mr. Max Dawson, a businessman involved in illegal dealings, entered Damian's office. Damian made no attempt to stand or shake his hand. "What do you want?" Damian asked, still seated, clicking on his laptop. Mr. Max swallowed a hard lump in his throat. Doing business with Damian was more difficult than with his father, Mr. Mark Tucker. The name alone instilled fear in other groups. "It's business, Damian. A deal worth 10 million dollars." Mr. Max was pleased when Damian looked away from his laptop and shifted his gaze to him. "Sit," Damian gestured. "Go on." Mr. Max explained the details. Damian listened with keen interest. "So what do you need my assistance for?" he finally asked. "As the mafia lord, I don't want the other groups to interfere. I'll need you to lend me the money to proceed," Mr. Max explained. Damian was interested, but he had other motives. In deals like this, he preferred to hijack them himself instead of handing them over to his group. "I'll lend you the money, but you must promise to pay it back with interest. I don't care if the business works out or not. All I care about is my money," Damian said. Mr. Max nodded. "You have nothing to worry about, Damian. I'll pay you back, but I will need your assistance." "Don't worry, I'll have Jeff assist you. First, sign the deal." Damian offered the document to Mr. Max, who took a pen and signed. "Done," Mr. Max said with a broad smile, rising to leave. "I look forward to the repayment date," Damian said, his voice firm. After Mr. Max left, Damian thought about the deal. "I can't allow him to have that kind of money. It will draw the higher authorities' attention. I have to take care of it." A smirk played on his lips, and he called Jeff back. "Take care of Mr. Max's business and ensure the money gets transferred to my offshore accounts." "Okay, Boss." Jeff's eyes widened in surprise, but he dared not question Damian's orders. He looked up to him as an older brother; Jeff was only two years younger. He went to do as told. *** Three months later, Mr. Max was heartbroken to see the business hadn't gone as planned. After borrowing from the ruthless mafia lord, he only had a year to repay the 10 million dollars he had borrowed. "Honey, what's the problem?" Mrs. Jennifer Dawson came into the room. She was a middle-aged woman of 45, and she looked at her husband pacing worriedly. "I am finished!" Mr. Max said, placing his hands on his head. "You can't be finished, honey. Talk to me," Mrs. Jennifer begged. "I shouldn't have trusted that son of a devil. Doing business with his father wasn't bad. Our dealings were never hijacked by the government. Now I've lost everything I worked for." Mr. Max was on the brink of tears. He shouldn't have trusted Damian to handle the business. The man was still young and new as a mafia leader. "Calm down, honey. Talk to me," Mrs. Jennifer tried to talk him out of his misery, but he slapped her hand away and shouted, "Don't touch me! Where do I get 10 million dollars to pay the T-Group?" "The T-Group? Who are they? Calm down, honey. We can raise the money. Where did you borrow such a huge amount? Why would you borrow that much? For gambling?" she asked, shocked. "Get out of my room. I don't have time to explain. Just leave me alone. If I don't raise that money in a year, they will come for us—all of them. You need to leave with our kids. They shouldn't return here. I am finished." Mrs. Jennifer stubbornly shook her head. "I can't leave you to die alone, honey. You can't make me a widow at this age. You shouldn't have borrowed the money in the first place. Calm down. We can figure out how to raise it." Mr. Max went to his office, leaving his wife alone in their bedroom. She paced, wondering what was wrong. That night, Mrs. Jennifer went downstairs and saw her youngest daughter, Alicia, in the living room. "What's going on, Mom? I heard you and Dad arguing," Alicia, a 19-year-old nursing student with fair skin and long blonde hair like her mother, said. "It's your father. He borrowed 10 million dollars, and now he's lost everything." Mrs. Jennifer cried. "What?" Alicia nearly fainted. "10 million dollars? Where do we start paying off such a huge amount? Oh no, we are doomed, Mom. If Dad can't pay that off..." Alicia joined her mother in crying. They were rich, so why had her father borrowed so much? It meant they would have to sell most of their properties. But would that be enough to pay off such a huge debt? Alicia cried.