Dark Romance | Mafia

Chapter Nine

Stella's POV:

There stood Chloe, my father’s favourite daughter. The golden child with a blackened heart. She definitely needed money. That much was obvious from the fake smile plastered across her perfectly powdered face, which looked more plastic than pleasant.

She wore her beauty like armor, but I knew better. That smile? It was a trapdoor, not a welcome mat.

Chloe has sharp, angular features, with cold, piercing eyes that seem to judge everyone around her.
She didn’t just look at you; she assessed your worth, then found you lacking.

Her dark hair is styled in a sleek, edgy bob, matching her personality. She wears dark-toned, form-fitting clothes, exuding confidence and control. She maintains a straight posture with her back rigid.

There's always a smug smirk on her face, as if she looks down on everyone, fully aware of the power she holds over those around her.
she puts on a perfect front, but I’ve seen beneath the surface.

As she entered, she paused like she owned the place, her gaze sweeping the room until it caught on Jason Parker. Their eyes met. He looked away almost immediately, jaw tightening. But Chloe? She held the stare, like she knew something he didn’t, or maybe like she was daring him to remember.

Scar picked up the knife from the table, fingers tightening around the handle with far more intent than necessary.
Scar never hid her feelings. And right now, those feelings were razor sharp.

"I swear I'm gonna kill that bitch," she muttered under her breath.

I grabbed her arm firmly.

"Don’t be silly. Don’t create a scene," though we both knew it was already brewing beneath the surface.
We were standing on a fault line, and Chloe was jumping on it in heels.

Chloe’s eyes roamed again, calculated now, until they landed on Mr. Romano. Her lips curled, not quite a smile, more like curiosity dressed as charm.

She sauntered closer, eyes still fixed on him, then leaned toward me with a whisper.

"Who’s this hotshot?"

Scar didn't miss a beat.
"Oh, that hotshot? He's way too hot to handle. Go near him and you'll probably burst into flames, or at least your pride will."

"Let’s see. By the way, I’m here because I needed money," she extended her palm toward me.

Of course she was.

No shame. No explanation. Just Chloe being Chloe.

I sighed, digging into my pocket. I placed the cash into her palm—this was all I had left.

"That’s the last of it. I don’t have any more."

"That’ll be enough for me. Don’t worry," she said with a casual shrug.

No thanks. No appreciation. She took what she needed and moved on, like always.

Mr. Romano looked up just slightly, Chloe noticed instantly.

And of course, she winked.

A bold, reckless, stupid move.
Like poking a sleeping lion just to prove you're brave.

I buried my face in my palm.

"Oh God," I whispered, half praying he hadn’t seen, half wishing I could disappear.

Mr. Romano’s eyes turned blood red. His gaze shifted from cool to deadly in a heartbeat. His fingers, curled slowly into fists, knuckles whitening. A chill crept up my spine. Chloe was still smiling, unaware she was inches from danger.

He stared at her like a wolf spotting a threat or maybe a meal. Either way, it wasn’t good.

And Chloe, unsurprisingly, couldn’t help herself. She stepped closer to him and reached out her hand.

"Hi, Chloe, here."

He didn’t even blink.

"What, cat got your tongue?" she snapped.

That was it.

In one swift, terrifying motion, Mr. Romano shot up from his chair. His hand flew to his side, and before anyone could react, the barrel of the gun pressed to Chloe’s forehead.

Time stopped. Air froze. Death whispered close.

The whole café froze, except his friends, who sat there like nothing was happening. Maybe they’d seen this before. And that’s what scared me the most.

Chloe’s smirk vanished. Her lips turned pale and eyes widened with real fear. The kind she couldn’t fake or mask.

Scar and I rushed toward them, panic rising inside me.

"M... Mr. Romano, please," I pleaded.

He turned to me, slow and chilling. His eyes locked onto mine, cold, hard, and merciless. I felt like he could see straight into the bones of me.

Then, just as slowly, he averted his gaze. His eyes now fixed on Chloe, his grip tightening around the gun. He was about to press the trigger.

"I... I b- beg you."

He looked at me instantly and for a moment, our eyes locked.

"P..Please, sir, I apologize on her behalf," I requested, my voice trembling. A tear slipped down my cheek. Despite everything, she's still my sister. I couldn’t let this happen.

Anger still simmering beneath the surface, he didn't flinch, didn't speak, just stared. His eyes never left mine, as if daring me to break.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered his gun inch by inch and shoved his chair back with enough force that it scraped harshly against the floor. Then, without another word, he turned and stormed out of the coffee shop, his friends followed closely behind him like shadows. The storm passed, but the sky was still dark.

As they left, Scar spun on Chloe.

"Have you lost it? Do you wanna die?"

Chloe stepped back, her smirk completely vanished. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Not your problem," she shrugged, unbothered.

She turned on her heel and walked out, head held high — but her steps were faster than usual, almost hurried. She didn’t glance back once.

Scar raised her hand in frustration, but before she could say anything, my phone began to ring. I quickly moved to the counter to answer.

"Miss James, you’re hired. Report tomorrow at 7 AM sharp. No excuses for being late," Hailey's voice came through, stern and professional.

"Sure, I will. Thank you so much," I replied, my voice bubbling with excitement. I dropped the call and turned to Scar, throwing my arms around her in a hug.

"I got the job! I needed the most."

"Congrats, bitch!! What’s the job?"

"I’ll be working as a chef."

"Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you, girl. Maybe now your parents’ big tummy will finally get filled," she added, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Shut up, Scar," I said, laughing despite myself.

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the call log. It was done.
My chest felt lighter… and heavier, all at once.
Maybe this was the beginning. Or maybe the edge of something sharp.
Either way, there was no turning back now.

Until then…