SOLD TO THE MAFIA | SAILUBPON

CHAPTER 3

The morning sun streamed through the massive windows, casting long, golden beams across the room.

Pon stirred beneath the heavy duvet, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings seeing that Sailub wasn't by his side anymore.

For a brief, blissful second, he thought he was back home, the scent of jasmine from his mother's garden lingering in the air.

But reality set in quickly. The sleek, modern furnishings, the distant hum of the city outside none of it was home, he wasn't in his comfort place. This was Sailub's world now, and he was trapped and living inside it

Pon sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. A soft knock echoed through the room, and before he could respond, the door creaked open.

The woman from the previous night entered, carrying a neatly pressed set of clothes he needs to wear for the day, it was weird yet he needs to get used to it.

"Good morning," she said respectfully, placing the outfit on a chair near the bed. "Mr. Hemmawich expects you downstairs in an hour."

Pon nodded, his voice still stuck in his throat. He wanted to ask questions to know what was expected of him but the woman was gone before he could have the courage to ask his unanswered questions.

He stared at the clothes for a moment, running a hand over the fabric. A crisp white shirt, dark slacks, and a soft cashmere sweater.

They looked expensive, far beyond anything he'd ever owned. Dressing quickly, he noticed how perfectly everything fit, as if tailored specifically for him, it was something his family couldn't afford and something from his job couldn't pay for.

The mirror by the dresser reflected someone he barely recognized. His dark hair fell in soft waves over his forehead, and the clothes gave him an air of sophistication he didn't feel. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

---------

The house was eerily quiet as Pon made his way downstairs, guided by the faint smell of coffee and something savory. The main hall was just as grand in the daylight, every surface gleaming.

He found Hemmawich in a spacious dining room, seated at the head of a long, glass table.

The man was dressed in a tailored black suit, his posture relaxed but commanding. A steaming cup of coffee sat before him, and a tablet rested in his hand.

"Good morning, sit down." Hemmawich said without looking up while reading a newspaper.

Pon obeyed, sliding into a chair near the opposite end of the table. A maid appeared, placing a plate of food in front of him scrambled eggs, toast, and fresh fruit. It smelled amazing, but his appetite remained elusive.

"Eat up." Hemmawich ordered, finally glancing up. "You'll need energy for today."

Pon nodded and took a small bite of toast, the crispness breaking the silence. Hemmawich watched him for a moment before returning his attention to the tablet.

"Today, you'll start learning the rules," Hemmawich said, his tone casual but firm. "I expect obedience and discretion at all times. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Pon replied softly, his gaze fixed on his plate.

"I'll introduce you to a few people," Hemmawich continued. "People you'll assist. Your role is to be useful, quiet, and invisible when necessary. But never forget your loyalty is to me."

Pon's heart raced. Assist? Useful? What did that even mean? Was he supposed to serve drinks? Run errands? The ambiguity was unsettling.

"I... I'll do my best," Pon said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hemmawich smirked. "Good."

-----

After breakfast, Hemmawich led Pon through a maze of corridors, eventually stopping in front of a set of double doors. He pushed them open to reveal an office sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the room in light.

A man stood by the window, his back to them. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a relaxed posture that hinted at confidence. When he turned, Pon was struck by the sharpness of his features and the calculating glint in his eyes.

"This is Pavel" Hemmawich said. "He handles a lot of... sensitive matters for me."

Pavel nodded, his gaze assessing Pon in a way that made him feel exposed. "So, this is the new one," he teased the man, his voice smooth but edged with amusement. "He doesn't look like much."

what was that supposed to mean? Pon thought as he looked at Pavel with a weird expression on his face.

"He doesn't need to," Hemmawich replied, a hint of warning in his tone.

Pavel shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Fair enough." He turned to Pon. "Stick close to me today, kid. Do what I say, and you'll be fine."

Pon nodded, his throat dry. "Yes, sir."

Hemmawich's eyes lingered on Pon for a moment longer, then he turned to leave. "I'll check in later. Don't disappoint me, Pon."

As the door closed behind him, Pavel sighed and gestured for Pon to follow. "Come on, let's get this over with."

---

The day passed in a blur. Pavel took Pon through the sprawling estate, introducing him to various staff members and explaining their roles.

There were gardeners, chefs, security personnel each one efficient and professional. Pon tried to remember names and faces, but it was overwhelming.

By midday, they ended up in a private garage filled with luxury cars. Kritt leaned against a sleek black car, lighting a cigarette.

"So," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "What's your deal? Why'd Hemmawich pick you?"

Pon shifted uncomfortably. "I... I don't know."

Pavel raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? He doesn't do anything without a reason."

Pon shrugged, unsure how to explain. "I think it's because... I'm obedient. And my family needed help, that's all I know he didn't tell me much about.. the reason he bought me."

Pavel chuckled, shaking his head. "Obedient. That's cute." He took another drag of his cigarette. "Listen, kid. Hemmawich likes control. As long as you don't screw up, you'll be fine. But the moment you step out of line..." He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Pon swallowed hard. "I'll do what he asks."

"Good." Pavel flicked the cigarette away and straightened. "Let's get back inside. You've got more to learn."

-----

By the time the day ended, Pon was exhausted. His body ached, and his mind was spinning with everything he'd seen and heard. He collapsed onto the bed in his room, staring at the ceiling.

This was his life now. A world of luxury and danger, of rules and power plays. He felt small and insignificant, like a pawn on a chessboard.

But he couldn't afford to give up. Not yet.

Pon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He would survive. One day at a time. For his family. For himself.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd find a way to reclaim his freedom.