Betrothed to a CEO, inlove with a MAFIA

Episode 10

**CLAIRE’s POV**

All I could see was darkness, and the silence around me felt deafening. Slowly, I mustered the strength to open my eyes, but my vision remained blurry. A vague figure loomed in the dimness, and I strained to gain clarity. My vision gradually cleared, revealing the menacing demon standing before me, sending an icy shiver down my spine. My face contorted into a deep frown.

With considerable effort, I attempted to sit up, but an intense pain throbbed through my head, forcing me back onto the bed. I winced, unable to hide the pain.

"Be careful," Damian's voice instantly cut through the quiet, and he hurried towards me with evident concern in his voice. He reached out to assist me, but his touch only aggravated my discomfort.

"Don't touch me; I can manage," I replied firmly, determined to retain my independence.

"You're always so stubborn," he remarked, ignoring my protest as he gently helped me sit up on the bed, placing a pillow under my head.

I stared at him in silence, my mind racing for answers to the mystery of my current state. The last thing I could recall was being enveloped in darkness.

"What happened to me?" I forced myself to ask, even though speaking to him was something I dreaded.

"You fainted," Damian explained, his concern evident in his eyes. "The doctor mentioned that you haven't been eating properly, and it has weakened your body."

"I wish I had just died," I murmured bitterly, tears streaming down my face.

"What did you say?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the pain in my words.

"I said I wish I had died, Damian," I repeated, bitterness lacing my words. "Isn't death better than the suffering you've subjected me to? You treat me like trash, even resorting to violence. Death would offer me redemption and rest."

He stood there, staring at me with a blank expression, and then abruptly left the room without uttering a word.

"Why did he just leave like that?" I muttered to myself. Perhaps he had gone to fetch something to make my death slow and agonizing. At that point, I didn't care because death seemed like the only escape from my torment. However, I couldn't simply surrender without a fight. I wasn't a weakling, and I wouldn't die like one.

"Claire," Damian's voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to find him holding a tray.

"I asked Lisa to prepare your favorite meal. You should eat," he said plainly, placing the tray on a stool beside my bed.

His sudden kindness left me puzzled. Was this part of a sinister plan to end my life, perhaps with poison? I never imagined he could stoop so low.

Certainly, let's continue with your chapter while adding some detail and refining the scene:

"I'm not hungry," I replied, disgust evident in my voice as I turned my gaze away from him, fixing my eyes on the opposite side of the bed.

"Don't make me force you, Claire," he said through clenched teeth. I remained unwavering; I wouldn't let him intimidate me anymore.

Without hesitation, he walked over to the stool, picked up the tray, and placed it on my lap. "Eat, now!" he commanded, his voice laced with anger and frustration.

"I said I'm not hungry," I declared, grabbing the tray and flinging it to the ground.

In a fit of rage, Damian rushed toward me, his face contorted with anger, his hand raised, but he stopped himself halfway.

"Hit me! What's stopping you? Hit me, Damian!" I challenged, standing up. Our faces were just inches apart as we locked eyes intensely. He retreated, moving toward the door in a seething rage.

"For your information, I'm not signing those documents, not even with a gun to my head," I screamed at him just as he was about to turn the doorknob. He turned abruptly, his eyes filled with venom.

"What did you just say?" he inquired, staring at me with a deadly intensity.

"You heard me loud and clear," I retorted bitterly.

"Give me one good reason why I should subject myself to such slavery," I asked with a hint of anger and frustration.

"Because I'll make you," he said through clenched teeth, his gaze locked onto mine.

"What sort of animal are you, Damian? Why would you want me to be your s*x slave? Why do you think I will agree to fulfill your fetish desires?" I questioned, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Because you owe me, Claire! You owe me for wasting four years of my life; you owe me for all the times you lied to my face. You made me wait for you while you were out there being with another man, letting him touch you," he yelled, pacing around the room, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

I stared at him with a mixture of hatred and disgust, wishing I could just drive a knife through his heart.

"That man, Damian... That man is my betrothed, my husband," I said calmly, collapsing onto the bed in a sitting position.

He took long strides towards me and sat beside me on the bed, lifting my chin with his hand. "Then what am I to you, Claire?" he asked, his eyes searching mine, revealing the pain within.

"Nothing, Damian. You're nothing to me," I stated plainly, devoid of emotion.

In a fit of madness, he stormed out of the room in rage, slamming the door behind him, leaving me to ponder my thoughts.

**DAMIAN’s POV**

I entered my room, clutching my chest as her words cut through me like a sword, as if my heart were being torn from my chest. How could she claim I meant nothing to her? Was everything we shared a lie? I couldn't even bear to meet her gaze, those eyes that once held so much love and affection, eyes I could have gazed into endlessly. But tonight, they were filled with nothing but hatred and resentment towards me.

I walked to my vanity mirror, desperately searching through the counters for my medication, but my efforts were in vain.

"Ha!" I screamed in frustration, flinging everything from the vanity mirror's table in a fit of anger.

"She loves him. Claire chose him over me. I'm nothing but a loser," I muttered to myself, feeling rage and venom coursing through my veins.

"Well, too bad for them. If I can't have her, then nobody can," I muttered, chuckling with a crazed edge. I would make her life a living hell, ensuring that death didn't come easily to her.

I loathed how she had made me feel so weak and vulnerable. Her actions reminded me of the woman who had given birth to me and then abandoned me to die. She didn't deserve to be called a mother, and if I ever had the chance to see her again, I would ensure she received the painful and slow death she deserved.

Suddenly, the phone rang, jolting me out of my deranged thoughts. I wasn't in the mood to answer any calls, but when I saw who was calling, I had to take it.

"I've got some news for you, boss," the man I had sent to investigate my father's case said over the phone.

"I'm listening," I replied flatly.

"It's Don Ricardo, apparently, he's blackmailing your father. I don't know what the secret is, but it must be something significant for your father to be this terrified," he explained.

"Don Ricardo? I thought he was dead," I murmured, shock evident in my voice, inadvertently speaking my thoughts out loud.

"We all thought so too, boss," my man replied, snapping me back to reality.

"You know what, keep an eye on his every move and report back to me," I instructed over the phone.

"Okay, boss," he replied crisply.

"Boss," he hesitated as I was about to end the call.

"What is it?" I asked, my tone stern.

"There's something else I think you should know. I found out a bit about the supposed secret," he said, still sounding hesitant.

"I'm listening," I replied, now curious.

"I think it's about your mother and the cir—" he was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of a gunshot.

"Ha!" he groaned in pain on the other end of the line, and I could hear footsteps. Then, a loud thud.

"Marco!" I screamed, my eyes wide with shock.