Caring for the Mafia Son

"Marry me... or your family pays."

Those were the last words I expected to hear today.

I stood in my father's cramped office, heart hammering, as my gaze met the tall, imposing man in front of me. 

Dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through me. His hair was perfectly combed, and his presence-strong, intimidating-made me freeze in place. Two men flanked him, silent and dangerous.

"Rachel, baby, I can explain," my father said, stepping toward me, panic in his voice.

"What...?" I muttered, confusion and disbelief twisting in my chest.

"Your father owes me money-a lot of it," the man said smoothly. "And I don't joke about my money."

Before I could react, he pulled a gun from his pocket. I flinched, my breath catching. My father froze, too.

"So here's the deal," he continued, taking a slow step forward. "You marry me. Your father lives. Refuse... and I won't be responsible for what happens to him."

I gaped, anger and fear flashing through me. My hand darted for my phone. "I'm calling the police! You can't threaten my family, you lunatic!"

The man's face darkened. He moved closer, and I stumbled backwards until my back hit the wall. One of his men pressed a gun to my father's temple. My blood ran cold.

"I'm Damien Montrel," he said, his voice low, smooth, and deadly. "And this is not a request."

My eyes widened. *Damien?* The name I had only ever heard in whispered warnings, the man whose name alone made even hardened criminals shiver... he was here. In my father's office. My phone slipped from my trembling hands.

I glanced at my father. His face was drained of colour, shame and fear immediately replacing the faint confidence he usually carried. He had dragged me into this.

"Dad... what did you do?!" My voice shook.

Damien's frown deepened. "You don't listen, do you? You will address me. I'm being generous. Usually, I would just take your father's organs, but I'm offering a bargain."

I frowned, scared but angry. "I am not an object to be bought!"

"Oh, but you are," Damien spat. "The moment your father decided to borrow millions from me... for years... this is the consequence."

I sank to the floor, tears burning in my eyes. Confusion, fear, and anger swirled inside me. I had just come back from a late night of studying with my friends... and now this.

Damien's gaze didn't waver. "You have until tomorrow morning to give me your answer," he said, his voice calm but dangerous. "Think carefully. If you tell anyone I was here... your father, your brother, everyone you love... they will all pay."

I froze. My brother... he was in another city, always working. If he knew... if he came...The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through my chest.**

He stepped back, giving me space but never breaking eye contact. "Don't waste my generosity by refusing outright," he warned. "Tomorrow, you make your choice. And remember... I can find out everything. Even your thoughts are not safe."

With that, Damien turned and walked out, his two men following silently. The door clicked shut. The office felt suddenly suffocating.

My father stumbled toward me, falling to his knees. His hands trembled as they gripped my arms. "Tomorrow morning..." I whispered. "How am I supposed to choose?"

"Rachel, I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't know he'd drag you into this."

I looked at him, my chest aching too much from anger. "Why were you borrowing money from someone like him?"

He looked away, shame clouding his face. "That doesn't matter now. Rachel, listen-call Marcus. Tell him to book you a flight out of the country."

"Dad, it's Damien!" I cried, frustrated, tears spilling down my cheeks. "He'll find me! There's nowhere I can run!"

"I can offer him myself," my father said weakly, his voice breaking. "I'll give him what he wants-my organs, my life-just not you. Please, Rachel, don't let him have you."

My heart twisted painfully. "But you'll die. I can't lose you," I whispered.

He smiled faintly, heartbreak written all over his face. "Yes... But you still have Marcus."

A shaky laugh escaped me. "Marcus barely picks up my calls, Dad," I tried to joke, but my voice cracked. "I just... I just want you alive."

He placed a trembling hand on my cheek. "You're the only thing I ever did right, Rachel."