After the breathless encounter at the luxury hotel, Victor led Alia deeper into the VIP lounge. The atmosphere here was even more somber and heavy a place where only the games of power were played. Victor seated her next to the wife of another influential mafia boss and immediately immersed himself in business negotiations.
Isabella, the wife of the mafia don Alexander, was a former world-class model, but now her eyes held only a cold void. The diamond necklace around her neck hung like a beautiful, glittering noose. Isabella cast a sharp yet sympathetic gaze at Alia. She noticed the slight tremor in Alia's hands and the black silk ribbon around her neck the unmistakable mark of Victor's ownership.
Sipping her wine, Isabella spoke in a low, hushed tone. "I recognize that fire in your eyes, Alia. What you did at the table today... only a Mafia Godmother could pull that off. But behind this silk and these diamonds, we both know how small our world truly is."
Alia sat up straight, her diamond anklets chiming softly. She whispered back with a hint of irony, "People call us 'Queens,' Isabella. But we are just birds trapped in beautiful cages. Victor thinks he has incinerated my identity, but even from the ashes, a Phoenix is born."
Suddenly, shielding the movement from prying eyes, Isabella placed her hand over Alia's and pressed a small, folded note into her palm. Her eyes flashed with a strange intensity.
"Victor wants to destroy you because he is afraid of you," Isabella whispered urgently. "Your sons are safe. But remember, even the walls of this palace speak for Victor. Do not think of escape... think of change."
At that exact moment, Victor returned. His sharp gaze fell instantly on Alia and Isabella's joined hands. He placed a heavy, proprietary hand on Alia's shoulder a silent, crushing warning.
"Is the chatter finished, Alia?" Victor's voice was deep and commanding. "Alexander and I have finalized our deal. It is time to leave."
Alia stole one last look at Isabella. There was a strange sense of solidarity in the older woman's eyes. Alia realized that in this darkness, she was no longer alone. She tucked the note into a secret fold of her dress.
As Victor signaled for her to rise, Alia spoke in a voice that was eerily calm yet unshakable. Without even looking at him, pretending to remain engaged with Isabella, she said:
"You go ahead. I am coming."
Those few words seemed to turn the air in the VIP lounge to ice. To say "no" or to make a man like Victor wait was unthinkable.
The Five-Minute Ultimatum
Victor froze. His jaw tightened, and his icy blue eyes burned with a dangerous light. He leaned down, his lips brushing against Alia's ear. His voice was a lethal whisper:
"Are you daring to defy me, Alia? Remember, your freedom is only as large as the palm of my hand. I am giving you five minutes. If you are not outside by then, your 'friend' Isabella will be the one to pay the price."
As Victor walked away, the rhythmic thud of his boots sounded like a hammer against Alia's heart.
Isabella gripped Alia's hand, her voice trembling with terror. "You are playing with fire, Alia. He will not let this go."
Alia remained motionless. She squeezed the note in her fist and said, "He may rule me, but he cannot stop me. Thank you for the information, Isabella. If I make it back alive, I will settle this debt."
Alia stood up. Every chime of her diamond anklets now sounded like a declaration of war. She walked slowly out of the lounge toward Victor's blacked-out car, where death and madness awaited her.As Alia stepped out of the lounge and toward the car, every stride was measured and deliberate. She knew that the five minutes Victor had granted her wasn't an act of mercy it was a psychological trap, a test of his own breaking point.
The black sedan sat waiting like a predator in the shadows. As she reached the door, the window rolled down to reveal Victor in the back seat. The interior was pitch black, save for the glowing amber tip of his cigar, pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark.
The moment Alia entered the car, the door locked with a heavy, mechanical thud. Before she could even settle into the leather seat, Victor's hand shot out, gripping her hair and pulling her toward him with raw, primal aggression. His eyes burned with a dangerous intensity.
Victor's low growl: "Do you actually believe Isabella can save you? That woman is a prisoner of her own gilded cage. Alia, do you have even the slightest inkling of what the penalty for defying me is?"
Alia's calm defiance: Alia didn't flinch from the pain. Instead, she looked directly into his icy blue eyes and let out a faint, mocking smile. "I live that penalty every day, Victor," she whispered, her voice steady. "You can break my body, but you cannot control the hatred you've cultivated inside me. That hatred is the only thing you've truly given me, and it's the one thing that will eventually destroy you."
Victor brought the burning tip of his cigar dangerously close to the black ribbon around her neck. She could feel the searing heat radiating against her skin, a silent promise of agony.
"Empires aren't built on hate, Alia," Victor whispered against her ear, his breath cold. "They are built on fear. And tonight, I am going to remind you exactly whose property you are.".
As the car sped through the rain-slicked streets toward the fortress-like mansion, Alia's fingers brushed against the small note hidden in the folds of her dress. Isabella's parting words echoed in her mind: "Do not think of escape... think of change."
Alia realized that tonight wouldn't just be another night of endurance. It was the beginning of her counter-strike. She could sense Victor's desperation; the more he tried to crush her spirit, the more he revealed his own profound isolation.
The diamond anklets on her feet remained silent now, but the fire in her heart was roaring.Inside the suffocating darkness of the car, as the fleeting glow of streetlamps flickered through the tinted windows, Alia carefully unfolded the note in her palm. Isabella's handwriting was jagged and hurried, written in a moment of desperate courage.
The note contained a revelation that changed everything:
"Alia, Victor holds you with iron chains, but his own throne is built on shifting sand. His greatest weapon isn't his army—it is his 'Black Ledger.' In that book lies the recorded sins of every powerful leader in this city.
In the mansion's library, behind the antique clock on the north wall, there is a hidden wall safe. The code is your youngest son's birthday. Victor believes you would never think to look there.
Possessing that ledger means holding Victor's death warrant in your hands. But be cautious! Marcus, Victor's head of security, does not truly serve him—he works for me. He will assist you when the moment is right.
To escape and get caught is certain death, but to use this information is to become the new Queen. Good luck."
As she finished reading, Alia's heart hammered against her ribs. The wall of darkness around her didn't seem so impenetrable anymore; she finally saw a sliver of light a path to freedom. She realized why Victor was so obsessed with breaking her: she was the only one who truly knew the layout of his heart and his home.
With practiced stealth, she tore the note into tiny fragments and let them flutter out of the window into the night wind. They vanished like white ash into the dark.
Now, her mind was locked onto a single target: The antique clock in the library.As soon as Alexander saw Victor and Alia depart, the violence he had been suppressing erupted like a volcano. He kicked the heavy VIP lounge door shut with a deafening bang. His bodyguards lowered their heads and backed away they knew that when Alexander was this enraged, anyone in his path was nothing more than straw in a storm.
Alexander began to pace toward Isabella, his steps slow and calculated like a hunting cheetah. Isabella remained seated on the sofa, calmly taking a final sip of her wine, though a tempest was raging beneath her composed exterior.
The Outburst
Alexander's Roar:
"Do you think I'm blind?" Alexander hissed through gritted teeth. In a flash of motion, he grabbed Isabella by her hair and hauled her off the sofa. "What did you give that girl? I have a multi-million dollar deal on the line with Victor, and you're playing your filthy little games in the middle of it?"
Before Isabella could utter a word, Alexander's massive hand swung in a brutal slap that connected squarely with her cheek. The sound of the impact echoed through the cavernous lounge. The force sent Isabella crashing onto a glass side table. Blood began to trickle from the corner of her mouth, but her eyes remained dry not a single tear fell.
Alexander grabbed her by the collar, dragging her up until his face was inches from hers. His breath reeked of expensive tobacco and hard liquor. "You are trash, Isabella! Remember, I took you off the streets and made you a Queen. If I find out you're conspiring with Victor's girl to hurt me or this deal, I will melt that pretty face of yours with my own hands."
Isabella wiped the blood from her lip and let out a chilling, haunting laugh. The void in her eyes had transformed into a terrifying resolve. She whispered coldly, "You're afraid too, Alexander. Just like Victor, you know your empire is a house of cards. What I gave Alia today will bring both of you down. Hit me... hit me again. But remember, a wounded tigress is far more dangerous than a common beast."
Blinded by rage, Alexander raised his hand to strike again, but at that exact moment, his phone began to ring. He froze when he saw Victor's name flashing on the screen. He threw Isabella to the floor like a ragdoll and answered the call.The moment Alexander picked up the phone, the tension in the lounge became suffocating. Isabella, still bleeding on the floor, watched him with a haunting, knowing smile. She knew Victor didn't make social calls especially not at this hour.Alexander," Victor's voice came through, cold and precise. "Your wife's claws seem to have grown a bit too long. She handed something to Alia. When I got into the car, I saw something in Alia's eyes that I haven't seen in years—hope. And you know as well as I do, hope in a caged bird is a threat to the master."
Alexander stuttered, his bravado crumbling. "Victor, I was just... teaching her a lesson. She hasn't confessed yet. Are you certain?"
"I don't need proof to be certain," Victor whispered, a sound more terrifying than a scream. "My intuition is my judge. I will find out what was on that note. But until then, handle your wife. If I discover she leaked any of my secrets to Alia, our years of partnership will turn to ash. And you know how I deal with enemies."Victor didn't see the contents, but he was too sharp to be fooled. In the car, he had caught the reflection in the rearview mirror tiny white fragments of paper fluttering away into the night as Alia discarded them. He knew instantly that Isabella had passed her a weapon, even if it was only made of ink and paper.
Hanging up, Alexander lunged at Isabella again, his eyes bloodshot with rage. "Tell me! What was in that note? What secret did you give her?"
Isabella remained silent, her heart racing. She only prayed that Alia reached the library in time. If she did, this night would be the beginning of the end for both of them.