Entangled With My Mafia Boss

d dressed quickly, then reached for my phone, dialing my mom's number. I didn't know what the next hour would bring, or where I'd be in the

I felt a small flicker of comfor

asked, doing my best to sound normal

u? How's your boss? Is he doing oka

Everything is fine here." But I could

was happening. Not now. She already had enough to worry about. I just needed

pting my thoughts. "Come in," I called

impassive as ever. "Good morning, Miss Joya," he said, his tone pro

lied, trying to maintain s

rrived at the airport. They're heading straight to the hospital

mach. "Okay," I replied, my

closed the door, he added, "Please

my shoulders. Mr. Christopher's family. The very thought of meeting them sent a shiver down my spine. What would they think of me? What

. But with every passing second, the anxiety grew more overwhelming. I gl

rld-one I couldn't reach. The calmness of the outside world only made my inner turmoil more

that seemed to follow me. We arrived at the hospital at precisely 8:00 AM. My legs felt like lead as I stepped out of the car, the hosp

ile hallways. He informed me that Mr. Christopher's parents were a

. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity. My stomach growled loudly-an uncomfortable reminder that I hadn't eaten sin

front of me. I thanked him softly, my hands shaky as I picked up the fork. I ate quickly, almost desperately, as though the food mig

kipped a beat, and I looked up, only to find Mr. Christopher's parents standi

"And here you are, eating like nothing is wrong. You probably put him in that condition, didn't y

I couldn't bring myself to take another bite. The food turned to ash in my mout

motions. Sobbing uncontrollably, I cried out, "I didn't do it! I swear, I didn't!"

for me when the evidence seemed to be stacked so high against me? Would anyone ever give