The Mafia Boss's Pet Wife

The mansion was quieter than usual. No soft laughter or hurried footsteps echoing down the hallways. Just silence, thick and heavy, wrapping around me like an old coat. I had gotten used to it. The quiet made it easier to think. To plan. But tonight, the silence felt different. It was like an unspoken tension hanging in the air, waiting to snap.

Sophia. She had become a force, a presence in my life I hadn't anticipated. At first, it was a game. Manipulation. A test of wills. But now... Now, she was something else. She had become part of the equation, and as much as I liked to pretend I was in full control, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was starting to control me, too.

I had thought I could control everything around me people, situations, even emotions. But she had a way of getting under my skin. Her resistance, her questions, the way she challenged me without even realizing it. It intrigued me. And that, more than anything, made me want to push further.

The first time she truly stood up to me was when I took her to the private gallery on the second floor. She had been playing along curious, cautious, but compliant. Until she saw the paintings.

She stared at one for what felt like an eternity. A portrait of a woman, her expression cold and distant. Sophia's brow furrowed as she turned to face me, the look in her eyes unmistakable. "Who is she?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, but sharp enough to slice through the air.

The question caught me off guard. I hadn't expected her to ask about the woman in the painting. I had bought it years ago, a piece of history I didn't care to talk about. But Sophia's eyes, they didn't miss a detail. They saw things others overlooked.

"She's part of my family's history," I said, trying to sound casual, but I could hear the hint of defensiveness in my own voice.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Sophia's gaze shifted between me and the painting. "What part?"

There was a moment of silence. She had started to dig, unknowingly, into something I hadn't planned on letting her discover. But the truth was, she had every right to ask. She had every right to know more.

"She was my great-grandmother," I said finally, the words leaving my mouth with more weight than I intended.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "And why keep her here?"

"Because," I said, walking toward her, "some things need to be remembered, even if they're not talked about."

Sophia didn't respond immediately. Instead, she studied me closely, as if searching for something I wasn't ready to reveal. I could feel the tension building between us, and I could tell she wasn't satisfied with my answer. But that was fine. She wasn't supposed to be.

She was learning. Learning to question. To challenge.

The next few days were strange. The game had shifted. I had noticed how she was no longer just following my lead. She was pushing back more, speaking her mind more freely. I could see the small changes in her eyes-the defiance, the desire to take control of her own story.

It both irritated and thrilled me.

One evening, I walked into the study to find her standing by the window, staring out at the vast garden below. She hadn't noticed me enter. Her hair, wild and untamed, framed her face as she looked out into the night. I studied her for a long moment, savoring the sight of her vulnerability.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, my voice a low drawl.

She didn't turn to look at me immediately. When she finally did, her eyes held a spark-sharp and questioning.

"I'm thinking about what you want from me," she said slowly, almost as if testing the waters. "What's the endgame here, huh? Why are you doing this?"

Her words struck me, but I didn't show it. She had been probing me since the beginning, but now, there was an edge to her tone. It was no longer about manipulation or control-it was about understanding the power dynamics between us. "I don't expect anything from you, Sophia," I said, approaching her, keeping my voice steady. "I'm simply giving you a choice."

"A choice?" she asked, incredulous. "You don't think I see what you're doing? This is all part of your plan. Control me, break me, turn me into something else."

Her words stung, but I didn't flinch. She was wrong, but she wasn't entirely wrong either. I wasn't trying to break her. I was trying to make her see the potential inside of her-potential she couldn't even recognize yet. But I wouldn't tell her that. Not yet.

"You're free to think whatever you like," I said, my voice colder now. "But everything I've done has been for you. For us."

She shook her head, turning back toward the window. "You're playing a game, and I'm not sure I'm willing to play anymore."

Those words hung in the air like a challenge, and I knew-deep down I had just entered dangerous territory.

Later that night, I stood in my study, the weight of her words still pressing down on me. She had been right. This had started as a game. But now, I wasn't so sure anymore.

I had chosen her from the beginning, not just because she was a challenge, but because I saw something in her that no one else did. She had always been more than the pawn I had initially assumed her to be. And that realization shook me in ways I wasn't prepared for.

What had I gotten myself into?

I ran my fingers over the edge of my desk, staring at the glass in front of me. I couldn't lose her. Not like this. Not when we were so close to something real-something powerful. But I could see the walls she was building around herself. The trust that was so hard to earn, yet so easy to destroy.

She had taken the first step. But would she take the second?

Only time would tell. And I would make sure she didn't back down from it.