Lahat ng Kabanata ng TRAPPED WITH THE MAFIA BOSS: Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

The storm tore through the warehouse district vengefully, turning streets into torrents of mud and oil-slick shadows. Rain slammed against rusted rooftops, a relentless drumbeat that swallowed everything but the thunder’s bone-rattling growl. The air reeked of wet decay and gasoline, a stench that clung like damp rot.Jeremy’s matte-black Maserati Levante screeched to a halt outside the abandoned warehouse, its custom rims glinting briefly in the dark before the mud claimed them. The SUV’s headlights sliced through the downpour, illuminating jagged shards of glass and twisted steel in the gloom. The docks beyond were a wasteland—hollowed-out buildings and empty piers, a perfect tomb for men who crossed the wrong family.He shoved the door open and stepped out, bespoke leather boots sinking into the sludge. His tailored wool overcoat—Armani, black as sin—soaked through instantly, water streaming off the brim of his fedora. A gold chain gleamed at his throat, catching the flicker of lig

Three days had crawled by since JJ got dumped back at the gate. Three days since Jeremy stormed into the rain, fists bloody from smashing Flinco into the mud, since he learned the truth about the bullet that took Flinco’s old man out. Three days since something broke loose inside him.Now, he wouldn’t let JJ go.Elena saw it the morning after he dragged himself home. Usually, he’d toss JJ to the nanny—some broad in a crisp uniform—or let the guards haul him around the estate when his hands were full. Not anymore. He carried the kid everywhere. Held him tight against his chest during phone calls, barking orders with a cigar clenched in his teeth. Kept him on his lap in meetings, gold rings glinting as he signed deals over JJ’s sleepy head. Even pacing the halls of the Cali estate—its marble floors echoing with his heavy steps—he wouldn’t put him down. He moved like a ghost, a man who’d lost too much once and wouldn’t let it happen again.Mama got a few minutes with JJ. Elena got le

The CIA Director’s office had bookshelves crammed against every wall—not for pretty, but for a con. A guy with stacks of leather-bound books looked like he could be trusted, like he had the reins in his hands. And right now, Director Charles Monroe needed that lie bad. His world was slipping, and he was clawing to hold it.Seven power players slumped around his long, gleaming conference table—senators in stiff suits, defense contractors with oily grins, spy bosses with dead eyes. Each one was running his own hustle, knives tucked behind their backs. The Mafia faction was there too—sleezy types who didn’t see the Calis as thugs, but as gold mines. They’d been pocketing bloody cash from Jeremy Cali’s empire for years—suitcases of it, wired to hidden accounts, spent on private jets and beach houses. Now they wanted one thing: Agent Hammer gone, wiped off the board.Senator Carlisle—biggest mouth, loudest bark—leaned in, fingers pounding the table like he was beating a drum. “This is a g

Jeremiah hunched in his office, staring at the whiskey glass on his desk. The ice had melted ages ago, turning the amber liquid into a watered-down mess—flat, sour, like the taste in his mouth. The room smelled of leather and smoke, faint traces of the cigar he’d stubbed out hours back. A single bulb buzzed overhead, throwing a weak yellow glow over the cluttered desk—ledgers, bank slips, a scratched-up laptop humming low.For weeks, he’d been building his empire on the sly—siphoning cash, stashing it in offshore holes, making moves to cut loose when the time was right. He’d been careful, precise, weaving a web Jeremy wouldn’t spot till it was too late. But now, something was off. The numbers were screwing him.It started small—thousands vanishing here and there, little leaks he could’ve chalked up to sloppy bookkeeping. Then it grew—hundreds of thousands gone, transfers stalling out, suppliers who’d kissed his boots for years suddenly dodging his calls. Payments got “lost,” wires t

The conference room at Cali Solar was a sleek, glass-walled fortress high above the city, a king’s lookout over the jagged skyline. The storms had finally quit, leaving the night air sharp and cold, seeping through the edges of the windows. The city below glittered—towers stabbing up, streetlights bouncing off damp pavement, horns whining faint in the distance. Inside, the long mahogany table stretched wall to wall, gleaming under harsh LEDs. Leather chairs held the company’s top suits—execs with stiff collars, hands twitching over papers, faces pale in the chill. They sat tight, breaths puffing faint in the cold, waiting like dogs sniffing trouble.Jeremy stormed in, and the room froze hard. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared suck air too loud. He wasn’t just the CEO—he was a goddamn beast, his power clawing past these walls into dark corners and bloody deals. Today, he dragged ice with him—fury locked tight in his step, radiating cold menace.Elena followed, heels smacking the polished f