Falling for My Ex’s Mafia Dad — Episode 13
Fay went still, not from surrender but calculation. The chemical scent rising from the cloth made the threat unmistakable. She allowed the guard to pull her outside while David was forced into the trunk, his muffled protests fading beneath the slam of metal.
Neighbors’ curtains remained closed. The abduction took less than a minute, performed with such quiet precision that the waking street never noticed. Fay was placed between two men in the rear seat, exactly where she had sat on the journey home.
“He did what you asked,” she said. “Why take him?” No one answered. When she lunged for the door lock, the guard restrained her and reminded her about the chloroform. Fay stopped, conserving what strength terror had left her.
The car pulled away from the only home she knew. Through the rear window, she watched the porch shrink until a turn erased it. She had entered hoping to reclaim her life and left having delivered her father into Kent’s hands.
Guilt overwhelmed her. David had protected her for decades without asking for wealth or gratitude, and Fay had destroyed that protection in a single night. Kent had predicted she would reveal the address. She hated that his judgment had been correct. Her education had taught her to identify manipulation in others, yet desperation had made her the simplest piece on Kent’s board.
The estate gates opened before the car slowed. Armed guards waved them through, and the vehicle descended into a private garage. Cameras tracked their arrival from every corner, recording the successful return of both prisoners. Kent waited at the entrance to the house, dressed as impeccably as though he had not spent the night kidnapping a family. His calm made Fay’s fury feel like another reaction he had already anticipated.
Fay climbed out before anyone could touch her. “Why?” she demanded. “You said I could say goodbye.” Behind her, the trunk opened, and two men lifted David out while he struggled against the restraints.
Kent met Fay’s glare without apology. He explained that if he had announced his intention to seize David, she would have refused the address and given her father time to run. Instead, she had led them to him exactly as planned.
“You used me.” The accusation sounded painfully familiar. Daniel had used her as a shield from his family; Kent had used her love for David as a map. Each Lippert man found a different way to make her trust useful. Daniel had apologized, however selfishly, while Kent regarded successful manipulation as proof of intelligence.
“I taught you a lesson,” Kent replied. “If you intend to survive among us, become less predictable.” Fay wanted to strike him. A smaller, more shameful part recognized the truth: she had revealed everything because she assumed the visit contained limits Kent had never promised.
David was carried toward a corridor leading below the main floor. Kent instructed his men to take him to the chamber. Fay’s fury turned to horror. The word suggested stone walls, restraints, and every rumor attached to the Mafia King.
She ran after them, but another guard blocked her path. “What chamber? What are you going to do to him?” David twisted at the sound of her voice, trying to reach her despite the hood and bound hands.
“He will not be harmed.” Kent’s tone flattened when Fay demanded proof. “You have my word.” She reminded him that he had already manipulated his promise about the visit home. His eyes cooled at the implication that his word meant nothing. Around them, his men avoided looking at either of them, as though witnessing a challenge to their leader was itself dangerous.
“I said you could say goodbye, and you did. I did not promise he would remain there afterward.” The distinction was monstrous, but precise. Kent approached until Fay had to tilt her head back. “When I swear protection, however, I keep it.” Fay studied him, trying to decide whether a criminal’s private code could be more reliable than laws he openly mocked.
Fay asked what protection David needed from anyone besides Kent. Before he answered, a man entered and spoke quietly into his ear. Kent’s expression sharpened. Fay caught only one name: Dean. The messenger mentioned accounts, contracts, and men positioned near the club, evidence that Janeen’s captivity extended far beyond a single locked room.
“Janeen.” She seized Kent’s sleeve. “You found her?” He removed her hand but did not step away. His people had located her, he said, yet Dean still controlled the debt and documents that tied her to his club.
Fay’s relief collapsed. She begged Kent to bring Janeen to the estate and erase whatever Dean claimed she owed. Kent asked why he should spend influence, money, and blood protecting a woman unrelated to his family.
“Because you know what he’ll do to her.” Fay’s voice broke. Kent remained silent, forcing her to confront the imbalance between them. Fay Thompson had no money, soldiers, or secrets valuable enough to purchase Janeen’s safety.
She looked toward the corridor where David had disappeared. To save both of them, she would have to trade the only thing Kent wanted: Fay Alden and the alliance attached to her name. The realization felt like walking willingly toward a locked cage.
“I’ll do anything,” she whispered. Kent’s gaze settled on her with terrible satisfaction. “Anything is a careless word, Fay.” He stepped closer. “Before you offer it, you should hear exactly what I intend to take.”
