S*X Contract With Invalid Mafia Boss

Chapter 6

Christine's POV

I woke to an unrelenting ache in my body, my head pounding as if a weight had been hammering at my skull for hours. Sweat drenched my skin, soaking through the sheets, and my stomach churned with nausea. I forced myself to sit up, but my limbs felt as heavy as lead, each movement draining what little energy I had left.

With a groan, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, clutching at the mattress to steady myself. I’d barely made it to the door when the room spun, my vision blurring. Each step felt like a battle I wasn’t sure I could win. My hands shook as I gripped the hallway banister, guiding myself forward like a ghost haunting its own home.

Finally, I spotted a maid arranging linens at the top of the staircase, her back to me. I cleared my throat, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Where’s Luca?”

She jumped, startled, then turned to face me. Her eyes flickered with concern as she took in my appearance—a look I was becoming all too familiar with. She set down the linens, her voice gentle, as if speaking to a fragile creature.

“He left for Russia a few days ago.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “No word on when he’ll be back.”

Her words sunk into me like stones, pulling me under. I’d barely held onto the hope that he was here, somewhere in this oversized mansion, even if it was in some distant room I couldn’t reach. The truth cut deeper than I’d expected. So he’d left. Not a call. Not a message. Just… gone.

I nodded, dismissing the maid. She hovered for a second, sympathy etched in her features, before finally retreating down the hall. I turned and stumbled back to my room, the walls and furniture around me blurring. My pulse pounded in my ears, amplifying every ache in my body. All I wanted was to collapse, but a gnawing sense of emptiness kept me painfully awake.

Alone. The word reverberated in my mind, making my feverish thoughts even more chaotic. This room, this mansion—it all felt like a cage, luxurious and opulent but just as isolating as any prison. The weight of Luca’s absence pressed down on me, suffocating and unrelenting, until it was all I could feel.

Time passed in a haze of fever and pain, slipping through my fingers like sand. My body was racked with cramps that twisted and burned, compounding the fever that never seemed to break. Hunger gnawed at me, but even the thought of food made my stomach turn. I drifted in and out of consciousness, each hour blurring into the next.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, I heard footsteps approaching. The door creaked open, and a man with a white coat entered, accompanied by the maid from earlier. She lingered at the doorway, her gaze filled with worry, while the man approached with a calm professionalism that somehow heightened my sense of isolation.

“Christine?” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached for my wrist. His fingers pressed against my pulse, and he frowned. “You should’ve been seen days ago,” he said, his voice laced with a faint hint of reproach. “You can’t wait for someone to take care of you. You’ve got to look after yourself.”

A weak laugh escaped me, one that quickly turned into a ragged cough. The words felt cruelly ironic, considering how much I’d given up to look after myself. I’d left behind everything and everyone, only to end up here—reliant on a man who saw me as nothing more than his property.

“Believe me, I know,” I rasped, my voice barely audible.

He examined me in silence, his brow furrowing as he jotted down notes. The maid lingered by the door, her face a mix of concern and guilt. When the doctor finally left, he muttered something to her, a warning about my health that I couldn’t quite make out. Then they were both gone, leaving me in the silence of my room.

Four days passed, and my fever finally broke, leaving me weak and hollow. The aches had dulled to a persistent throb, and I could finally sit up without the world spinning. But the relief was overshadowed by a wave of bitterness that crept in, filling the spaces where my sickness had been. Luca, who claimed he owned me, hadn’t even bothered to check in.

Just as I was about to drift back into sleep, the door swung open, and Mario strode in, his face as impassive as ever. I didn’t bother holding back. Fury boiled over, giving me strength I hadn’t felt in days.

“Where the hell has he been? I nearly died here.” My voice was hoarse, but the anger in it was unmistakable.

Mario met my gaze, unflinching, his tone as cold as ice. “Luca didn’t want you disturbed. I thought you knew your place in his life.”

I clenched my jaw, swallowing down the retort that burned on my tongue. His words stung, each one a cruel reminder of the truth I’d been avoiding. This was my place—the forgotten doll, left to gather dust until he decided he wanted to play again.

Mario’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, indifferent to the rage simmering beneath my skin. He gave a slight nod, a wordless dismissal, before he turned and left. The door closed behind him with a finality that felt like a slap, leaving me alone once more.

I sank back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of my anger pressing down on me. And in that stillness, a resolve began to form, fragile but steady.

I won’t let him make me feel like this again. The thought pulsed through me, filling the hollow ache in my chest with a fierce determination. I’m nothing to him but a convenience, a warm body to satisfy his whims. But I won’t let myself rely on him, trust him, or feel anything that gives him that kind of power over me again.

The anger flared, sharp and unforgiving. Next time he expects me to be grateful, I’ll show him just how far he’s pushed me. I’ll play his game, but I won’t lose myself in it. I’ll hold onto whatever pieces of me he hasn’t taken, and I’ll keep them hidden, safe.

The silence in the room pressed down on me, heavy and unrelenting. I was exhausted, but my mind clung to that fierce resolve, refusing to let it go. Because if I did, if I let him take that from me too… then there would be nothing left.

As I closed my eyes, I whispered a silent vow to myself, a promise as unyielding as the anger that burned in my chest. I would endure this. I would hold on, no matter how long it took. And when this was over, when I was free of him… I would still have enough of myself left to start again.