Spoil Me, My Mafia Lord

wanted to scream, but she only bit her lower lip to hold back the burning rage in her heart. S

as well as his real intentions towards her. Se

back tears, clen

ice. "They'll love you, and they should. It's time to collect on all my i

his financial support for her college education, was a sign of his love. But now, everythin

nditionally. Until she witnessed the true nature of

allow herself to cry for a monster like Sebastian. It was a good thing she discovered his re

tight, and she knew he wou

ing, with glittering lights, booming music, and guests dressed in expensive attire.

em. They were dressed in black tuxedos, their large frames radiating strength and menace

talking about, Sebastia

elt a sharp pang in her chest as she heard Sebastian's words. Even though she had accepted the truth, even though she knew his lov

for this moment, ever since you sent him the photos," one of

ave sold to the orga

ce. "Her body is beautifully curved, her skin is smooth, and most importan

er her ears or run away from these dangerous men

ier." Isabelle looked at Sebastian, and in that moment, she finally understood that the man she had once lo

party. They walked down a dark hallway, illuminated only by flickering lights. The

aft coming from inside the room. As they walked, her heart pounded faster. Sh

blindingly bright room, overflowing with luxury. The expensive space was adorn

arly older. One of the men inside the room suddenly approached her. He w

bstance. In the center of the room, her gaze fell on a man sitting on a highchair, a throne fit for a king. He was th

e reason, when their eyes met, a strange sensation washed over her. The fear she was f

n in front of Isabelle said coldly. His accent was clearly

she wondered

him. "You're beautiful. That explains why that bastard sold

the other men slowly approaching. Thei

e unbuckled his belt, Isabelle couldn't hold back her tears. The fabric of her dress was thin, so she fel

man stripped naked

her, she suddenly stood up. In the midst of fear and desperation, an idea struck her – to ask for help

s polished shoes, their shine almost blinding. His chair was so high, she could only rea

voice barely a whisper from fear. "I'l

move and slowly rise from his seat. As she felt his presence, she realized he was

, his voice cold but deep and sharp.

ct, like the models she only saw in magazines. His arms seemed capable of offering

nt, only one thing mattered – her survival. If she

's face as she nodded, her f

d, her voice choked with tears. "My body, even my