Bleeding For A Lie: His Cruel Betrayal

Mia POV

Desperate to pay off the loan sharks just to stay alive, I took the card and made my way to the Familia's towering legitimate headquarters the next morning.

The building was a monument of polished glass and cold steel. I walked into the massive, cavernous lobby, feeling entirely out of place in my faded sweater and worn jeans.

I found the HR Fixer on the third floor. He was a cold, calculating man who flicked his eyes at the black-and-gold card, then looked at me with a frank, undisguised contempt.

"The Don instructed us to find a place for you," the Fixer said in a monotone, sliding a grey, shapeless uniform across the gleaming desk. "You have been assigned to the lowest janitorial staff. Start on the executive floor."

I swallowed the heavy, acrid lump in my throat and took the uniform. I had no choice. The syndicate collectors would break my legs by Friday if I did not pay them.

An hour later, wearing the coarse, ill-fitting cleaner's uniform, I pushed a heavy supply cart toward the private executive elevators.

The burnished elevator doors chimed and slid open. Dante and Serena stepped out.

Serena stopped short, her perfectly drawn eyes widening in mock surprise before a cruel, bright smile spread across her face.

"Oh my," she laughed musically, her gaze traveling over me as if I were something to be scraped off a shoe. "Is this the new cleaning staff?"

Dante did not even blink. He looked at me as if I were nothing more than a smudge on his expensive marble floor.

"She lacks the pedigree for anything else," he stated coldly, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "She is only fit to clean my floors."

A hot flush of shame burned my face. I gripped the handle of the plastic cart so tightly my knuckles turned a bloodless white.

"Go clean my office," Dante ordered, moving past me without a second glance.

I pushed the lumbering cart into his sprawling executive office. The air inside was heavy with the scent of cigar ash and expensive leather conditioning oil. I filled a bucket with warm water and got down on my hands and knees.

Serena lounged on the expensive leather sofa like a true Mafia Queen, sipping from a tall flute of champagne. Dante sat behind his massive desk, his dark eyes focused entirely on his syndicate ledgers. He did not lift his head.

I scrubbed the immaculate floor, my already raw fingers burning in the caustic soapy water. Every scrape of my brush against the marble floor felt like a small, fresh wound opening in my chest. I was bleeding my soul dry for a man who took pleasure in watching me crawl.

"You missed a spot right there," Serena pointed lazily with the rim of her glass.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I moved over and scrubbed the invisible spot.

"I have shown you enough mercy by giving you this job," Dante remarked coldly, turning a crisp page in his ledger. "Do not make me regret my charity."

I rose to my feet, picked up my heavy bucket, and walked out of the airless office.

The moment the heavy soundproofed door clicked shut behind me, my silent endurance finally broke, and hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

But just as I wiped my eyes, a dark shadow fell over me, and Serena stepped out into the quiet hallway with a cold, calculating smile.

"We're not done yet," she whispered, her eyes glinting like a blade. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that she had no intention of letting me leave this building alive.