Nasty Games Playing With The Ruthless Mafia

Hatred is one of those emotions that arises when a person loaths you. You despise that person to the point that even the most insignificant actions on their part infuriate you.

That person is my father. I abhor him. I am appalled by his brazenness and how he interacts with others. Simply say, I despise him. A part of me wants to love him so badly that I often think about the times in the past when we had a healthy relationship. Still, those happy days never seem to come to my mind anymore because of how cruel he is.

He believes that I will follow him simply because I am his child. Oh, hell no, but I bet he wants me to. I owe him that I am for I am now, but he doesn't see me as her daughter at all. He is my father. Even though I should adore him, I don't. I despise him so much.

My older brother, Igor, yelled at us, "Bora, get your fat ass over here!" I heaved a sigh and rolled my eyes. "Going!" I yelled before jumping off of my bed and walking to his bedroom.

My brother is Igor Huessef Mafianni, and he's 22 years old. He is the heir to the business that my father founded. Still, despite his endearing personality and generosity, he is completely insane. Even though he makes it look like he does not dislike my father, he acts as though he does. Because of that, neither he nor I give a crap about him, even when I curse him and his sentiments.

Igor is the best, and he is always there for me.

He shows love to me as a brother and a sister at the same time. Because of that, he has my admiration. When my dad is being a jerk, he makes sure to check on me, treat me, and attend to my needs. Always and forever.

I proceeded down the hallway until I reached the end, where his room was located. I see him working at his desk as soon as I enter the door.

"What do you want?" I entered his room and headed to his bed.

"Before anything else, step away from my bed. And secondly, about Emir Alffiaco, if you wish to see him, you must be interrogated by your father. The name sounds familiar, isn't it?" He continued typing whatever he was writing, and I responded affirmatively.

"But listen, if you don't want to face him, I could tell Father, or I could go do it myself. If you don't want to." I'll love you even more if you know it. He faced me by turning his chair around.

The cruel enemy's name is Emir Alffiaco. He was a horrible man. When I say terrible, I mean awful. I'm talking about the kind of evil that involves prostitution rings and the exploitation of young women. To make my life a living misery, he is exploiting even the mafia. I will not stop seeking justice to ensure that he rots away in the deepest part of hell.