The Mafia Billionaire’s Obsession

Elena

Elena had never been outside the mansion walls—not once in 20 years.

She wasn’t allowed.

Victoria could come and go as she pleased, basking in the attention of their wealthy social circle. Elena, however, was nothing more than a secret locked away—a stain on the perfect life her parents wanted to portray.

But tonight, she was done being invisible.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she crept through the dimly lit hallway, her breath shallow, ears straining for any sound. The clock in the main hall struck ten, its chimes ringing through the enormous house like a warning.

Hurry.

She tightened her grip on the strap of the small bag slung over her shoulder. It wasn’t much—just an old hoodie, a bottle of water, and the small amount of money she’d stolen from Victoria’s purse earlier. Enough to get far away.

Her bare feet barely made a sound against the cold marble as she moved toward the back of the house. She knew exactly which door to take—the one leading to the service entrance. It was the only exit with a broken alarm system, something she’d discovered by accident years ago.

If she made it past the gate, she could disappear.

No more locked rooms. No more being a shadow in her own home.

But first, she had to make it out.

She took another step—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Elena’s stomach dropped.

Victoria.

She whirled around to see her sister leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk curving her lips.

Dressed in a silk robe, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders, Victoria looked effortlessly perfect—as always.

Elena, by contrast, was wearing an oversized sweater, her hair tied in a messy knot, and her face free of the makeup her mother forced on Victoria.

But that wasn’t what made them different.

Victoria was the daughter they loved.

Elena was the daughter they tolerated.

"Move," Elena said, her voice stronger than she felt.

Victoria’s smirk widened. "Oh, Elena." She tsked. "You’re actually trying to leave? How cute."

Elena's pulse pounded. "I mean it, Victoria."

Her sister took a slow step closer. "And what exactly do you think you’ll do out there, huh? You’ve never even been to a grocery store. You have no friends, no connections—hell, you don’t even have a real education. Mom and Dad made sure of that."

Elena flinched. She’s right. But I can’t stay here.

She thought.

Victoria leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You’re nothing without this house. No one will want you. And if you run, you’ll regret it."

Elena clenched her fists, swallowing the rage boiling inside her. Victoria wanted her to break. To prove she was weak.

But she wasn’t weak. Not anymore.

She turned on her heel and bolted.

“Guards!” Victoria’s voice rang through the hall. “Stop her!”

Elena sprinted through the kitchen, dodging a startled maid and pushing open the side door. The blast of cool night air hit her like a shock.

Don’t stop. Just run.

She kept chanting in her head.

The back gardens stretched before her, dark and vast, the scent of damp roses thick in the air. The mansion’s perimeter fence loomed ahead, taller than she remembered, but not impossible to climb.

She just had to reach it.

Elena ran, her lungs burning, heart hammering against her ribs. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.

She leaped, her fingers curling around the iron bars—

A strong arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her backward.

A scream tore from her throat as she struggled, kicking and thrashing. No. No, please! I was so close!

A deep chuckle sent chills through her.

"Now, now, pequeña," a voice murmured in her ear. "That’s no way to say hello."

Her body stiffened. That accent. Deep. Amused. Dangerous.

Dante Russo.

Her breath caught in her throat as she twisted to see him. Dark blue eyes. Scarred brow. An expression that sent a shiver down her spine.

He was taller than she imagined, his body solid muscle beneath his crisp black suit. Tattoos curled up his wrists, disappearing beneath the expensive fabric.

He was nothing like the men her parents associated with.

He was worse.

He watched her with a lazy kind of amusement, as if she were a puzzle he had yet to figure out. "Now, tell me, little mouse," he said, tilting his head. "Where were you running off to in such a hurry?"

Elena glared, hating the way his presence unsettled her. "Let me go."

Dante chuckled. "Brave." He loosened his grip but didn’t step back. "Most people beg when they see me. You, however…" His gaze flicked over her, taking in her messy hair, the hoodie drowning her frame, the fear flickering behind her defiance. "You’re not like the rest of them, are you?"

She swallowed hard, her skin still burning where he’d touched her. "I don’t belong here."

Something shifted in his eyes.

"No," he said quietly. "You don’t."

A shout rang out from the house. Guards. They were coming.

Elena’s stomach twisted. If they found her out here, her father would never let her out of his sight again.

She turned, ready to run again—

Dante caught her wrist.

Her breath hitched as his fingers curled around her skin, firm but not painful. His dark eyes searched hers, something unreadable flickering there.

Then, to her shock, he let go.

"Run," he murmured.

Elena hesitated. Why would he let me go?

"Go, before I change my mind," he added, smirking slightly.

She didn’t wait.

She bolted into the night, not daring to look back.

She didn’t see the way Dante Russo watched her disappear into the shadows, his smirk fading into something much darker.

She didn’t hear him murmur to himself, "Interesting."

And she didn’t know, in that moment, that she had just become an obsession.

One he wouldn’t let go of.