The Ruthless Don Obsession

Kamari’s Pov

“What have you done? You fucking muderer!" I watched as life drained from my husband’s face. My own voice came out as a ragged whisper.

“No… no… Davin can’t be dead. He didn’t just kill him. This has to be a dream.” I whispered to myself trying to calm my racing heart.

The man who pulled the trigger—my boss, Fredrick Hayden—lowered his gun slowly, his expression disturbingly calm.

“Shhh,” he murmured, stepping over Davin’s body. “He’s dead now. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. He won’t touch you again. He won’t leave bruises all over your fragile skin.”

I stared blankly at him, tears streaming down my face. My husband’s body lay lifeless on the kitchen floor, and my boss showed no trace of remorse. It was as if killing came naturally to him.

“Stay away from me, you monster!” I screamed, backing into the corner. “Is this how far you’ll go just to have sex with me? I told you, I’m a married woman!”

My voice cracked as I buried my head between my knees, sobbing. How could I have been so blind to what he really was? Why did he barge into my house just to kill Davin? Was this the length his lust for me would get to? Killing my husband?

He just stood there, unbothered, the gun still in his hand.

“I watched from the window,” he said quietly. “I saw the way he hit you again. I couldn’t just stand there. I had to stop it.”

“That wasn’t your business!” I snapped, my hands trembling. “We only had a misunderstanding because you kept me at work too late. He snapped—that’s all!”

What was I even doing? Covering up for Davin? I always covered up the constant buries with makeup and the ones that are visible with lies. But he was a monster too. A different kind of monster.

“That doesn’t explain the bruises, Kam,” Fredrick said softly. “You’ve been enduring this for years, haven’t you? Why suffer for something you call love?”

Love. What does that even mean to me? I don’t know what it means anymore? Love from a forced marriage?

How could I tell him that I was sold to Davin…a mafia don, to pay off my family’s debt? The same family who abandoned me at birth, only to drag me out of an orphanage and hand me over like a bargaining chip.

Fredrick’s gaze flicked down at Davin’s body. “We need to move him before anyone notices. I don’t know how long before my men get here.” He scratched his eyebrow, as if we were discussing business.

This man had to be insane. Really insane.

“I’m going to the police,” I said, crawling toward my bag. “I’ll tell them you came here because I refused to sleep with you, and that you killed my husband in cold blood!”

I slipped my hand inside my purse, searching desperately for my cellphone. But for some reason I couldn’t find it. Did he take it before shooting Davin? Or did I by any chance leave it at the office?

He laughed softly, walking toward me. “And what do you think they’ll do? Arrest me? Lock me away?” His voice dripped with mockery. “You’re hilarious, Kamari.”

“What do you want from me, Fredrick?” I spat, standing now, defiant. “Is it my body? Is that what’s driving you insane?”

He smiled faintly. “If I wanted anything from you, I’d take it. I’m doing you a favor. I saved you from him. You’ve been suffering for too long.”

“A favor?” I whispered bitterly. The last time someone said they were doing me a favor, they sold me into a nightmare.

When my parents came to the orphanage claiming to be my family, I thought I’d finally been saved. Two days later, I learned they’d traded me to Davin Nicole to pay their debts… As long as I remember that wasn't a favour… it was hell.

Fredrick, no, the stranger I thought I knew—looked around, still completely at ease. “Why don’t you calm down before you attract attention? Go change out of those office clothes. I’ll make us something to eat.”

I froze. “You want to cook? Here? In the same kitchen where my husband’s body is lying?” Why didn’t I notice that he had a mental disorder before I applied for that job?

He shrugged. “You have to eat.”

“You must be joking,” I snapped. “You killed the only family I had and now you think we’ll share a meal? Get out of my house!”

His smirk widened as he stepped closer. “You really want me gone? Have you forgotten your fingerprints are all over him? It’d be a shame for a beautiful twenty-six-year-old woman to spend her life in prison.”

My breath caught. If I’d report he was going to shamelessly blackmail me? His hand brushed the hair from my eyes, soft, almost tender. “What would you tell the police, Kamari? That I’m the killer?” he whispered. “Do you even know who I am?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “And soon the whole world will. Your empire will burn when the police knock on your door.”

He chuckled slowly. “Have you ever heard the name Luciano De Rossi?”

The air in the room shifted. That name—Luciano De Rossi—was the name Davin had spent his life running from. The name behind every sleepless night, every gunshot that echoed through our walls.

“I’m Luciano De Rossi,” he said simply. “Your beloved husband’s greatest nemesis.”

My heart stills. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” His eyes gleamed coldly. “Ask your husband. Oh wait—you can’t.” Did he find any of this funny to him?

“I don’t care who you are!” I shouted, fury breaking through my fear. “I need you out of my house!” I marched toward the front door and swung it open. The night air hit my face like ice, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him gone…. Out of my life for good… but somehow he is just everywhere.

He smirked behind me. “Shouldn’t you be honored to be in my presence? I wish your darling husband wasn’t lying dead on that floor.”

He wiped his dry lips with his palm, then added coldly, “And for the record, you’re coming with me. You don’t get to object. Understood?”

“What?” I whispered. Now he is giving orders because he killed my husband?

He went back to the kitchen and crouched beside Davin’s corpse, wrapping it in a black polythene sheet as though disposing of trash. My stomach churned. I stumbled backward, nearly slipping on the blood-stained tiles.

Then—I heard it. Footsteps. Heavy, synchronized footsteps outside. I quickly shut the front door before crawling back to the kitchen.

They were getting closer. The creak of boots on gravel, the low murmur of men’s voices, the faint metallic click of guns being loaded.

Luciano straightened, his jaw tight. “They’re here,” he muttered. My pulse spiked. “Who’s here?”

He looked at me, eyes glinting with something dark and unreadable. “The ones who’ll decide whether you live, or die.”

The kitchen lights flickered, plunging us into momentary darkness. Then came a loud bang on the front door. “Boss, we found her location!” a voice roared from outside. My heart stopped. Who found who?

Luciano turned toward me slowly, the corner of his mouth curling into a wicked smile. “I told you, Kamari,” he said softly. “You don’t have a choice anymore.”

Before I could scream, he grabbed my wrist, yanked me toward him—and the door burst open. Dozens of armed men stormed in, s

hadows swallowing the room.

And that was the last thing I saw before everything went black.