Mafia Don Begs Me Back

Elara's POV

Five years into my marriage to the Montgomery crime family, I finally learned the truth: Damian only married me so I'd willingly hand over my heart to his precious Vivian.

All these years, he'd kept me under the care of the finest medical team, forbidding any strenuous activity.

I thought he cared.

Turns out, he cared about my heart—just not the way I'd imagined.

My fingers clenched around the organ compatibility report, my whole body shaking with cold. I could barely believe what I was seeing.

That's when Damian walked in.

A black shirt stretched across his powerful frame, collar open to reveal tattoos snaking from his neck down to his chest. Tall and lean, he carried the scent of gunpowder before his presence even filled the room. Those blue eyes of his were cold enough to freeze your spine.

This was the king of the Italian underworld. The youngest Don in Montgomery family history. His organization, "The Gate," controlled thirty percent of the gray shipping routes through the strait. His enforcers blanketed the country. Everyone on the streets knew: Montgomery family enemies either ended up at the bottom of international waters, or they were never found at all.

He noticed the file in my hands. His blue eyes narrowed, then returned to that controlled, detached expression.

He settled onto the sofa, legs crossed, like a predator feigning sleep. Under my stare, he lit a cigar with deliberate slowness. The ember glowed red, flickering in the dim light.

"So you know."

His voice came out low and rough.

God, how I wanted him to give me a reasonable explanation.

My voice trembled. "Damian, is this real?"

"Yes."

That single word shattered every last shred of hope.

I swayed on my feet, the words scraping past my teeth.

"So everything—these five years—it was all fake?"

"No. I put genuine effort into maintaining your health." Damian flicked ash from his cigar, seeming to consider it seriously. His tone stayed lazy. "I gave you the best conditions possible these past five years. You should've felt that."

He paused, lifting his gaze to meet mine. Those eyes that used to look at me with tenderness now held nothing but ice.

"Vivian received a critical condition notice today. Surgery's scheduled for next month."

"Don't worry. I'll find you the finest cemetery."

The room spun. My legs went weak.

"What did you just say? Damian, you're going to rip out my heart for someone else and tell me not to worry?!"

He frowned, as if my reaction was pathetically naive.

"Of course. Your mother's ongoing treatment costs—the Montgomery family will cover everything. And your brother's study abroad expenses, I'll have someone handle the arrangements."

"So I'm just a container for this heart, is that it?"

"Elara, I believe you've already gotten more than enough these past years." Damian's stare turned glacial. "Without that heart, you never would've had the chance to marry into the Montgomery family. You've enjoyed years of luxury. Time to pay it back."

All the blood seemed to drain from my body.

Was this cold-blooded man really the same person from my memories?

"This isn't real." I couldn't accept it. My vision blurred. "Damian, tell me this isn't real. You're not this kind of person. You wouldn't do this to me..."

He suddenly closed the distance. His massive frame pressed down on me with dangerous heat. He raised his hand, rough fingertips wiping away the tears on my face.

But I only cried harder. My heart ached so badly my fingertips trembled.

"Darling, you need to understand—this heart is wasted on you."

That sentence completely destroyed me. I grabbed his collar like a madwoman.

"This is MY heart! I will never give it to anyone!"

"How dare you yell at my dad like that?!"

A childish voice cut through my breakdown.

Caleb rushed in and shoved me away.

I stumbled back, disbelief flooding through me.

"Caleb..."

"Don't call my name!" Caleb shouted in his little-boy voice. "If you die, Vivian will get better and be with Dad, and I can call Aunt Vivian Mommy! Why won't you agree?"

I froze.

I never imagined such vicious words could come from a four-year-old's mouth.

When I gave birth to him, I had a difficult labor with massive hemorrhaging. I spent seven full hours on the operating table.

During postpartum recovery, the pain kept me awake night after night. He was a piece of my own flesh and blood. How could he say something like this?

"Caleb, why? I'm your mother..."

"You're not!" Caleb's eyes reddened too. "You're always bossing me around! Can't eat this, can't drink that—but Mommy Vivian never stops me from anything! She buys me ice cream and takes me to the amusement park!"

He'd always had a weak constitution. Once, he ate something he shouldn't have and ended up hospitalized.

So I made his meals myself every single day. Every time he threw a tantrum wanting junk food, I steeled myself to be the bad guy.

I thought he'd understand when he grew up. Instead, all my care for him became knives he turned against me.

He sniffled.

"If you really loved me, you'd give your heart to Mommy Vivian."

Every ounce of strength left my body because of those words.

This was the child I nearly died bringing into the world.

This was the son I'd raised with painstaking care for four years.

I suddenly laughed. The laughter turned to tears streaming down my face.

Caleb looked frightened. He instinctively shrank closer to Damian.

Damian's broad palm settled on his shoulder. Facing his son, the violence in his eyes softened slightly. But when he looked at me, the coldness returned without a trace of warmth.

"Elara, everything's out in the open now. There's no point making a scene. Tomorrow morning, I'll arrange for you to be admitted to the hospital. This isn't up for negotiation."

I looked at these two males—the two most important people in my life.

I felt like I was about to collapse.

I don't know how long I stood there before I finally set the file down on the table with shaking hands.

"Fine. I'll go."

Caleb's eyes lit up. "You agreed?!"

Damian seemed surprised by my compliance.

But he quickly returned to his usual cold rigidity.

"A smart decision."

I ignored him, walking toward my room with empty eyes.

The walls displayed Montgomery family portraits and many other photos.

Not a single one of me.

Three years. This house had never hung a single photograph of me.

I used to avoid thinking about it. Now I realized—the answer had been written all along.

I returned to the bedroom and closed the door.

I sat alone in the darkness for a long time before pulling out my phone and dialing a number.

When the call connected, a middle-aged man's voice came through.

"Miss Sterling, you've finally called."

A month ago, I'd received an offer from overseas.

Top Jewelry Appraiser.

Million-dollar annual salary. But because of this family, I'd refused without hesitation.

Because I thought my husband and son couldn't live without me.

Turned out my existence was nothing but a joke.

"Is that position still open?" I asked directly.

"Of course. Have you made up your mind?"

"Yes."

"But what about your husband and child?"

I leaned against the door, listening to my son's cheerful voice outside. My heart felt hollow and lost.

"Soon, they won't be anymore."