The Mafia,s Secret Heir

Prologue : The Mafia,s Secret Heir Blood. That was the first thing she saw. Thick, crimson liquid pooled on the marble floor, forming eerie patterns under the dim light. Her hands trembled as she stepped closer, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The man lay thereâ€"cold, lifeless. His once-piercing eyes now empty, staring at nothing. Bullet wounds riddled his chest, and the metallic scent of blood filled the air. Her father. There was no time to process the horror, no time to grieve. Footsteps echoed down the hallwayâ€"heavy, fast, relentless. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Run. That was the only choice. She turned, nearly slipping on the blood-slicked floor. Her shoes were soaked. Her clothes were disheveled. She had no idea where to go, only that if she stayed, she would die. Then, a strong hand seized her from behind. A harsh grip, unyielding. She screamed, thrashing against the hold, her body twisting in panic. "Let me go!" she cried, eyes darting wildly for an escape. The man didn’t loosen his grip. His breath was warm against her ear, his voice a deep, commanding whisper. "Stay still. I’m here to save you." But in a world where every smile was a trap and every touch could mean death… who could she trust?