Mafia's African Rose

Confrontation

      Zoe and Glory were gone, and in their place, a new maid had moved into my room. She wasn't friendly or comforting; she barely acknowledged my presence, leaving me feeling more isolated than ever. I missed Zoe and Glory terribly. It seemed every bit of support I had here was slowly being stripped away.

Frustration, confusion, and anger swirled inside me until, without fully understanding why, I found myself heading to the Don's office. My steps were shaky, but something drove me forward. I had no real plan—just the desperate need to confront him about... something. Anything.

I knocked on his door, and his voice drifted through, deep and composed, "Come in." I opened the door, and the sight before me stopped me dead in my tracks. There, kneeling in front of him, was a woman—her head moving up and down, her hands gripping his thighs. She was servicing him, and I could tell from his posture that he was indifferent, almost bored.

My eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and I felt a stab in my chest. It was Zoe. Our gazes met for a brief second before she looked away, shame and something else flickering across her face. I wasn't sure what I felt—a mix of anger, jealousy, disgust, and something I didn't want to name. I hated her for being here, for doing this, yet I also envied her. Maybe it was because she had found a way to survive, even if it was a brutal, degrading one. I was frozen, paralyzed by a swirl of emotions I couldn't make sense of.

The Don's gaze shifted to me, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. "Out," he said to Zoe, his tone as dismissive as if he were addressing a pet. She stood up hastily, avoiding my eyes, and slipped past me, her face red with shame. I felt anger simmering under my skin, but I didn't know if it was directed at her or at myself.

"Are you just going to stand there, or do you have something to say?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. His tone snapped me out of my thoughts, and suddenly, my anger overflowed.

"You're heartless," I spat, clenching my fists. He leaned back in his chair, clearly amused, one eyebrow raised. I could feel the power he held, the way he manipulated everyone around him, and the more I thought about it, the more my anger took hold. "You ruin people's lives and treat us like we're nothing. You let your men treat the maids however they want. We're not even given decent food, decent clothes—"

"You seem to think you're owed something," he cut in smoothly, a dark glint in his eyes. "I think you've forgotten your place."

My mouth went dry, but I couldn't stop. "You think power means making people fear you. But it's empty. It's pathetic. And just because you have a beautiful face doesn't mean you're not a monster."

The air in the room grew cold, his gaze sharpening, turning deadly. He stood up, moving closer with slow, deliberate steps. "The black sheep thinks she can lecture the lion," he murmured. I backed up instinctively, but my back hit the wall, trapping me.

His hand wrapped around my throat, pressing just enough to make my breath hitch. My heart pounded wildly, terror mingling with something deeper, something unsettling. I couldn't understand the way my body responded to his touch—the heat that rose beneath my skin even as fear flooded my veins. His fingers tightened slightly, and his gaze bored into mine.

"You're nothing but dirt under my shoe," he said coldly, his voice low and menacing. "I'll break you, piece by piece, until you understand exactly who you're dealing with." He released me, shoving me away, and I staggered, coughing as I tried to catch my breath.

Shame and anger burned within me, but even as I stumbled away, I could feel his gaze lingering on me, piercing, predatory. I made it out of his office, forcing myself to keep going, not daring to look back.