“He Broke My Ribs”—She Texted The Wrong Number—Mafia Boss Replied: “I’m On My Way”

Fate or Bad Luck

He walked toward the bed, moving with the silent grace of a predator. He pulled the chair Dr. Aris had vacated closer to the bed and sat down.

Up close, Evelyn could see the flecks of gold in his dark irises. She could smell the faint scent of tobacco and sandalwood clinging to him.

“Why?”

Evelyn asked, her voice trembling.

“Why did you do all of this? I’m nobody. I’m just a nurse who can’t type.”

Lucas looked at her hands, which were resting on the white duvet. Her knuckles were bruised from where she had banged on the bathroom door.

“You texted Sophia’s number,”

He said quietly.

“Do you believe in fate, Evelyn?”

“No,”

She whispered.

“I believe in bad luck.”

“I didn’t used to believe in it either,”

Lucas admitted.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sophia was my twin. She was the light to my shadow.”

“When she died, the world went gray. I kept that phone because I couldn’t let go.”

“When it rang, I thought it was a sign, a test.”

He paused, his gaze intensifying. “When I saw you in that bathroom—broken, terrified, but still fighting to survive—I saw her. I saw the woman I couldn’t save.”

He reached out, his hand hovering over hers for a second before he pulled back, as if afraid he might break her too. “I couldn’t leave you there.”

“So what am I now?”

Evelyn asked, tears pricking her eyes.

“Am I your prisoner?”

Lucas’s expression hardened slightly. “You are my guest. You are under my protection.”

“That means no one—not the police, not Marcus, not the devil himself—can touch you while you are in this house.”

“And if I want to go home?”

“You don’t have a home anymore, Evelyn,”

Lucas said ruthlessly.

“Marcus has already spun the story. He’s claiming you had a psychotic break, attacked him, and ran off with a local gang member.”

“There is an APB out for your arrest. If you step outside these gates, the police will pick you up, and they will deliver you right back to Marcus.”

Evelyn felt the blood drain from her face. The machine beeped faster, betraying her panic.

“So I’m trapped,”

She whispered.

Lucas stood up. He loomed over her, not threateningly, but with an overwhelming sense of power.

“You are hidden,”

He corrected.

“Recover. Heal. Eat. When you are strong enough to stand on your own, we will discuss your future. Until then, everything in this house is yours.”

He turned to leave. “Lucas?”

He stopped at the door, his hand on the brass knob. “Thank you,”

She breathed.

It was a complicated gratitude, mixed with fear and confusion, but it was real. Lucas didn’t look back; he simply nodded once and walked out, leaving Evelyn alone in the silence of the gilded cage he had built for her.

The Silence of the Estate

She looked around the room. It was beautiful; it was warm; it was safe.

And it was the most terrifying place she had ever been. Three days passed in a blur of sleep and pain.

Evelyn’s world narrowed down to the four walls of the guest suite. It was a luxurious world.

Maids brought her trays of gourmet food she barely touched. Nurses changed her dressings with gentle hands, and soft classical music played from hidden speakers.

But it was a solitary confinement. She hadn’t seen Lucas since the first night.

On the fourth morning, Dr. Aris removed the chest tube. The relief was instantaneous, though her ribs still ached with a deep, bone-bruised soreness.

“You need to move,”

Dr. Aris said, helping her sit up.

“Your lungs need to expand. Walk around the room if you feel up to it. You can walk the hallway, but do not go downstairs yet.”

Evelyn nodded. Once the doctor left, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She was wearing silk pajamas that someone had bought for her: expensive, soft, and fitting perfectly. It unsettled her; how did they know her size?

She stood up, swaying slightly. She caught her reflection in the vanity mirror.

She looked like a ghost. Her skin was pale, dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes, and her hair was a tangled mess.

But the bruises on her neck were fading to a sickly yellow. And her eyes—her eyes looked different.

The constant, hunted look of fear she had worn for two years was gone, replaced by a weary curiosity. She opened the door to her room.

The hallway was massive, lined with dark wood paneling and oil paintings in heavy gold frames. It was silent.

The house felt empty yet alive, as if the walls were listening. Evelyn walked slowly, trailing her hand along the wall for support.

She passed several closed doors until she reached an open set of double doors at the end of the hall. It was a library.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, a rolling ladder, and a massive fireplace where a fire crackled, chasing away the chill of the rainy Chicago afternoon. And there, sitting in a leather armchair by the fire, was Lucas.

He was reading a file, a glass of amber liquid resting on the side table. He wore a black turtleneck and slacks, looking less like a mob boss and more like a brooding academic.

He looked up as she entered. He didn’t seem surprised.

“You’re walking,”

He noted.

“Dr. Aris said I should,”

Evelyn replied.

She felt exposed standing there, intruding on his sanctuary. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“This is my house, Evelyn. I am everywhere.”

He closed the file and gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Evelyn walked over and lowered herself gingerly into the chair. The heat from the fire felt good against her aching bones.

“Where is everyone?”

She asked.

“The house is so quiet.”

“My men stay in the west wing or the gate house,”

Lucas explained.

“I prefer silence in my living quarters. Noise reminds me of things I prefer to forget.”

Evelyn looked above the fireplace. There was a large portrait hanging there.

It depicted two people: a young Lucas, looking sharp and dangerous even in his twenties, and a woman who looked like his mirror image but with softer features and a smile that lit up the canvas. “Is that her?”

Evelyn asked softly.

“Sophia?”

Lucas’s gaze followed hers. His expression, usually so guarded, cracked with a profound sadness.

“Yes. That was painted a month before she died.”

He took a sip of his drink. “She was the only person in this world who knew me. Not the boss, not the Reaper. Just Lucas.”

“What happened to her?”

Evelyn asked.

She knew she was pushing, treading on dangerous ground, but she needed to understand the man who held her life in his hands. Lucas looked at her, his eyes cold again.

“She fell in love with the wrong man. A man who promised to protect her.”

“But when my enemies came for her, he ran. He left her to die to save his own skin.”

Evelyn felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. “And the man?”

“He is no longer a problem,”

Lucas said simply.

The finality in his tone made Evelyn shiver. “Is that why you saved me?”

Evelyn asked.

“Because Marcus is like him.”

“Partly,”

Lucas admitted.

“But mostly because you didn’t run. In the bathroom, you were texting for help, but you were also locking the door. You were trying to survive.”

“Sophia… she gave up in the end. She accepted her fate. You didn’t. I admire that.”

He stood up and walked over to a small cabinet, pouring a glass of water. He handed it to her.

“Do you have family, Evelyn? Besides the brother you tried to text?”

Evelyn took the water, her hand brushing his. “Liam. He’s my younger brother. He’s in college.”

“I… I need to call him. He must be worried sick.”

Lucas’s face went blank. He walked back to the window, his back to her.

“Liam came to your apartment the night of the incident,”

Lucas said.

Evelyn sat up straighter, wincing. “He did? Is he okay? Did Marcus hurt him?”

“Marcus wasn’t there, but the police were.”

“They told Liam the official story: that you attacked Marcus and ran away with a lover.”

“He wouldn’t believe that,”

Evelyn said fiercely.

“He knows Marcus is abusive.”

“He knows,”

Lucas agreed.

“But he is a twenty-year-old student up against the Chicago Police Department. He tried to file a missing person report. They threatened to arrest him for obstruction of justice.”

“I have to tell him I’m safe,”

Evelyn said, reaching for the pocket of her pajamas, realizing she didn’t have a phone.

“Please, Lucas, let me call him.”

Lucas turned around. “No.”

“Why?”

Evelyn’s voice rose.

“Because if you call him, Marcus will know,”

Lucas said, his voice hard.

“Marcus has tapped Liam’s phone. He has a surveillance car parked outside Liam’s dorm. He is waiting for you to make contact.”

“The moment you do, he will use Liam to get to you.”

Evelyn slumped back in the chair, defeated. “So I just let him think I’m dead?”

“You let him think you are missing,”

Lucas corrected.

“It is safer for him. If he knows where you are, he becomes a target. Ignorance is his shield.”

Lucas walked over and crouched down in front of her chair, bringing him to her eye level. It was an intimate gesture, one that made the large, empty room feel suddenly very small.

“I know it hurts,”

Lucas said low.

“I know you feel trapped. But you have to trust me. Marcus Thorne is not just an abuser. He is a cornered animal, and he is coming for you.”