บท 3: Chapter 3- You’re shameless!
Capone flashed a wicked smile. "See? Without a gun, I can still take your life!"
"A man who uses violence against women is no man at all!" Sophia retorted, but her words were cut short as he crushed his lips against hers. The unfamiliar scent of masculinity engulfed her, his kiss harsh and demanding. Instinctively, she pushed against him, her fingers brushing his freshly bandaged wound.
Pain ignited his aggressive desire, and he kissed her fiercely, forcing her down onto the bed. The sheets ripped beneath him, each tug sending fresh waves of discomfort through her. She was utterly pinned, his raw strength an overwhelming reminder of her helplessness—his primal dominance a weapon of humiliation.
What about his subordinates? How many men were at his command, and what twisted methods could they employ against her? The thought sent a chill through her. He wanted her to understand this lesson, and while she already did, she refused to succumb. She had to escape; waiting to die was not an option.
As she struggled, her fists connected with Capone's wound, fresh blood oozing out and staining her palms. The pain surged through her, but it only fueled her resolve. She would not allow this despicable mafia boss to have his way so easily!
After what felt like an eternity of biting and thrashing, he finally released her, panting heavily. He loomed over her, his gaze icy yet gradually shifting into a chilling smile—one that held a dangerous charm. Sophia had seen that smile before.
When Capone intervened during her kidnapping by the Franklin family's thugs, she had thought he was her savior. He had punished her captors, his presence a fleeting comfort amid her torment. But now, that same smile felt like a promise of further danger, igniting a flicker of fear in her heart.
It dawned on her that Capone was no different from the villains she had feared; his charming smile was merely a mask.
"You're shameless!" Sophia pulled the blanket around herself, choking back tears as she confronted him. "Who are you really? What do you want? Money? This is illegal! You'll go to prison for this!"
The words "going to prison" ignited a savage glint in Capone's eyes. Leaning closer, he trapped her gaze. "Don't worry; I'm not short on cash, and prison is the last place I'll end up. I just want to make your Diaz family suffer. This is what you owe me!"
Sophia's mind raced. What did her family owe him? She had left home at eighteen to study pastry-making in France, recently returning to chase her dream of opening a bakery. This nightmare was the biggest accident of her life.
Her father was a congressman, her cousin a promising prosecutor, and her two older brothers rising stars in business—idols she had looked up to. Anyone who threatened them was not to be trifled with. "You brought this on yourself! My family doesn't harm innocents like you! Either you're getting what you deserve, or you're just a delusional fool!"
Capone's expression shifted, his tone deceptively calm but laced with malice. "You think you understand what you deserve? Let me teach you about that, young lady. The world is full of helpless situations."
With a sudden, brutal movement, he pressed her down again, like a ravenous beast, showing no regard for her delicate form. Pain erupted within her, her body still marked from his frenzied actions the night before.
Her cries mingled with desperate gasps. Despite her youth, she felt a confusing blend of pain and a strange sweetness lingering on her lips. He had forgotten this was meant to be punishment.
Fighting against his overpowering force, she knocked over a bowl of porridge and vegetables. The crashing sound startled Capone awake. His lips twisted into a cold smile as he leaned closer, whispering in her ear, "Sophy, you can't escape!"
This was the first time he had called her "Sophy" after shattering everything she had.
When Sophia woke again, it was already afternoon. Capone had taken her watch and phone, leaving her trapped in a world where day and night blurred into oblivion. Every movement felt like a reminder of her disassembled body, aching from head to toe. Struggling to sit up, she checked the room and, finding it empty, headed to the bathroom to wash herself. She slipped into the clothes Lucy had brought her.
The pain in her back was relentless, and the discomfort between her legs made it hard to stand. A feverish heat washed over her; she suspected she might be running a temperature.
On the table, there was no fresh food or medicine, and the remnants of the broken bowl had been cleared away. Capone was clearly displeased with her resistance. He wanted to make her suffer—or perhaps he feared she might try to harm herself, for he had left no sharp objects or pills behind.
Sophia gritted her teeth, a cold laugh bubbling up inside her. How could she even consider dying? She hadn't done anything wrong; she was the victim here. Why would she give her enemies the satisfaction of ending her life? If it came to it, she would drag Capone down to hell with her.
To her surprise, the door wasn't locked. A flicker of hope ignited within her, but it quickly dimmed. Capone must be entirely confident that she wouldn't escape, which is why he hadn't bothered to secure it.
Her instincts were right. The villa, elegantly decorated yet simple, perched on a mountainside facing the sea. Without a boat, escape was nearly impossible, given the watchful eyes of surveillance cameras and his men patrolling the grounds.
The room led to a living area and stairs spiraling up, but for now, it was empty. Groping her way to the kitchen, she hoped to prepare something to eat. After nearly two days without food, she felt weak and unsteady, her injuries making escape a daunting task.
The kitchen was stocked with ingredients, but she wasn't in the mood for anything elaborate. She quickly whipped up a bowl of noodles, adding an egg and some vegetables, cooking more than she needed and leaving extra in the pot.
The enticing aroma filled the air. As Sophia carried the large bowl into the living area, she froze. A young man in a white coat stood by the glass door, holding a medical kit.
He looked surprised, his gaze flickering from her pale face to her bare feet, a frown tugging at his lips.
"You must be the last patient of the day!" The young doctor's tone was direct, as if questions were a luxury he could forgo.
"You're a doctor?" Hope ignited within Sophia. Doctors were supposed to save lives—maybe he would sympathize with her and help her escape!
"Yes, that's right! What's that smell? Did you make it? I'd like a bowl too!"
Sophia was taken aback. "Oh? Sure, there's some left in the kitchen…"
She set her bowl down and went to scoop out the remaining noodles for him. As she moved, she caught a glimpse of his smile—a soft, almost amused expression. She must look pitiful, her gait awkward from Capone's abuse.
"I'm Cronus. You can call me Dr. Cronus!" he said, though the noodles probably wouldn't win any culinary awards. Still, he felt compelled to introduce himself to the girl who had made them.
"Dr. Cronus!" Sophia's voice was weak. Despite the food, her discomfort remained, and cold sweat clung to her forehead. Yet, there was a flicker of relief in her heart. "I'm not feeling well. Do you have any medicine?"
Cronus glanced at her, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "It's not that I don't want to help, but Capone won't allow it. Besides, you were just sleeping."
Sophia forced a weak smile. She had expected this—Capone seemed to relish her suffering.
"But isn't it a doctor's duty to heal the sick and injured? I really feel awful. Please… I need some medicine!"
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