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Caring for the Mafia Son Novel Cover

Caring for the Mafia Son

"Marry me... or your family dies." To save her father's life, Rachel Owens signs the one contract no woman survives: becoming the wife of Damien Montrel, the city's most feared mafia king. His rules are simple: Obey. Stay inside. Don't ask questions. But behind the mansion's locked doors, Rachel discovers a softer truth meant to stay hidden- Leo. A small boy who calls her "Mama," and the only weakness Damien has ever had. Damien is ruthless to his enemies and merciless to traitors... yet for Rachel, his control begins to crack. Her kindness disarms him. Her silence wounds him. Her fear destroys him. Just as they begin to trust each other, a new enemy rises - The Raven, a shadow who knows Damien's secrets, his past... and Rachel's value. War is coming. In a world ruled by blood and vengeance, Rachel must decide: Is the real danger the man she married... or the one coming for them both?
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Chapter 12

Rachel POV

The big lecture hall was already filling up by the time I slipped inside. Students shuffled into their seats one by one, chatting, laughing, living their normal lives.

Meanwhile, I was still dying inside from Eli's rejection.

My cheeks burned with the memory as I walked toward the back. I sat down quickly, trying to pretend I wasn't replaying the moment in my head like an embarrassing movie.

I straightened in my seat the moment I noticed the person beside me.

One of Damien's guards.

Dressed in a college hoodie and jeans, with a backpack and fake glasses, he was doing his best impression of a student. An impression completely ruined by the fact that he was built like a professional safe mover.

I groaned inwardly. God, could this day get any worse?

He didn't look at me at first, just sat stiffly, flipping open his notebook like the most diligent "student" on campus.

I sighed, grateful he wasn't drawing attention-until he spoke.

"You seem distressed, madam," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Is it regarding the male from the hallway? We can arrange a... conversation with him."

My head snapped toward him. "What? No!" I hissed, horrified. "Do not even think about it! What is wrong with you people?"

He blinked. "Understood. Standing down."

Before I could yell again, a familiar voice cut in.

"Rachel?"

I turned and barely had time to react before Isabella rushed over, practically throwing herself onto me in a tight hug.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, squeezing the life out of me. "Girl, I was so worried! You didn't answer my messages! My calls! Nothing!"

I wheezed. "Isa-air-breathing-please-"

She released me and plopped into the seat on my other side, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Don't you 'family stuff' me. Spill. What really happened?"

"It was just... complicated family stuff," I repeated, the lie feeling flimsier than ever. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Isa sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll allow it. But with all this mafia craziness in the news? That alley shooting? You can't just vanish!"

I froze, keeping my expression neutral.

Behind me, the guard didn't even look up, but I saw his eyes flick toward Isabella for one sharp second.

"I'm being careful," I said gently. "Promise."

Isa studied me, and her gaze softened. "...But something's still off. You're upset."

I swallowed. She saw right through me.

Her eyes widened in realisation. "Oh, no. Don't tell me this is about Eli."

I deflated completely, the last of my composure evaporating.

"...I asked him out again," I whispered, the confession tasting like ash.

Isa fell silent for a beat. Then she let out a short, sharp scoff. "Rachel. I told you that guy was bad news."

"I know, I know," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

"He's been stringing you along for two years," she continued, crossing her arms. "Don't argue."

"I'm not!" I said, flustered. "It's just-he asked about me today. He was worried."

"Worried?" Isa echoed. "If he were worried, he would've been blowing up your phone like the rest of us were! He just likes the attention."

I blushed, mortified-especially knowing Damien's guard was absorbing every pathetic detail of my love life.

Fantastic.

A mafia operative now knew about my humiliating crush.

"I just... feel like he likes me," I whispered. "He's just confused."

Isa sighed, patting my knee. "Whatever you say, girl. But stop letting him play you."

I nodded weakly.

The lecture hall lights dimmed, signalling the start of class.

--

Lectures were finally over, and I felt drained. I slung my bag over my shoulder and pushed open the doors, stepping into the bright afternoon air.

The campus buzzed with noise-students chatting, laughing, hurrying to their next classes. I walked down the steps, heading toward the small café across the courtyard. I needed caffeine. Needed something sweet for Leo. Needed a tiny piece of normal.

My phone buzzed just as I reached the walkway.

Unknown: You should return home at once. The driver is here.

I stopped, eyebrows lifting in annoyance.

Me: No. I want coffee. And I'm getting snacks for Leo. Just wait a few minutes. You're watching me anyway.

A pause.

Unknown: Okay, madam. We're right behind you.

I rolled my eyes and continued walking toward the café, muttering under my breath.

I was not going home without my coffee.

But as I got closer to the front area of campus, a shift in the crowd made me look up.

Near the front gate-just a little past the café patio-someone stood beside a large black Jeep.

At first, it was just a silhouette.

Then I recognised the posture. The hair. The way he leaned against the car while scrolling his phone, as if nothing in the world could rush him.

My feet slowed on their own.

No.

No way.

I walked a little farther, heart thudding.

And then-clear as day-I saw him.

"Marcus?" I breathed.

He lifted his head at the sound of his name, sunlight catching his face.

A slow smile spread across his lips. Warm. Familiar. Protective.

"Hey, little sis," he said, pushing off the Jeep casually.

My chest tightened at the familiar sound of his voice. I walked closer, and Marcus pulled me into a quick, warm hug-strong and grounding, like everything I'd been missing.

"You okay?" he asked, holding me at arm's length to study my face.

"I'm fine," I said gently. "Just... life being life."

He sighed. "Sorry, I've been distant. Work's been all over the place."

"It's okay," I smiled. "You helped me get into school. That's more than enough."

Marcus nodded, then brightened a little. "Well... I'm in the city for a few months. Wanted to tell you in person."

My heart lifted. "Really? That's amazing."

"Yeah. Maybe we can all hang out-you, me... Dad-"

I blinked. "You want me and Dad to hang out with you?"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Don't sound so shocked. I don't hate him. I just... tolerate him from a distance."

I snorted.

But the moment faded when his eyes lowered slowly, scanning my outfit.

Once.

Twice.

He didn't even hide it.

"...Rachel," he said slowly, "where did you get all this?"

My stomach dropped.

I swallowed. "Oh-uh... I bought them."

"With what money?" he asked, not unkindly... just honestly. "You weren't wearing anything like this last time we FaceTimed, and you don't spend like this. That bag alone is-" he paused, squinting at the stitching, "-definitely not cheap."

Panic crawled up my throat.

"Marcus, it's nothing," I said quickly. "Just needed a change of clothes."

My phone buzzed.

I ignored it.

Marcus's eyes didn't.

His frown deepened.

He was piecing things together too quickly.

Too accurately.

And my brain-

My stupid, panicked, stressed brain-grabbed the first excuse it found.

"I-um... It's a guy."

Marcus went still.

"...a what?" he said, blinking.

"A boyfriend," I blurted, dying inside. "He bought the stuff. Nothing weird. Just... gifts."

Marcus stared at me like I'd just told him I joined a cult.

"Rachel." His voice dropped several degrees. "You have a boyfriend... and you didn't tell me?"

"It's really new," I whispered. "Barely anything, actually."

Marcus crossed his arms, eyes narrowing "Name."

"I-I can't tell you yet."

"Why?"

"Because... he's private," I said feeling guilty.

Marcus raised a brow. "Rachel Owens, you better not be lying to me."

I swallowed. "It's true. He's just... secretive."

Marcus hummed, studying me like a puzzle. "Is it that crush you wouldn't stop ranting about? The artist guy?"

I flinched. "No. No, God no. I moved on."

Another lie.

Marcus sighed, clearly not satisfied. "Come on. Let's get some drinks."

I followed him into the campus café-only to immediately spot two of Damien's guards sitting by the window, pretending to eat while very clearly tracking my every move.

Great.

Perfect.

Exactly what I needed.

Marcus pulled out his card, but before he could use it, I took out the black card Damien gave me.

Marcus froze.

"...What is that?" His voice was flat but sharp.

Crap.

I shoved it back into my pocket like it burned my hand.

"It's, um-a card."

"A card," he repeated slowly. "Rachel, that's a premium metal card. Those aren't 'just' cards."

My face burned. "I only use it because-because I'm stopping by the orphanage after this. To buy snacks for the kids. So I needed... um... funds."

Total lie.

Zero hesitation.

Marcus held my gaze for a moment... then exhaled.

"Alright," he said quietly. "If you say so."

Relief loosened my shoulders.

I turned away, pretending everything was fine.

But I could feel his eyes on me and I knew he didn't believe a single word.

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