Page 60 of Dark Mafia Heir

I’ve always known where my loyalty lies, with my family, my blood. But Antonio is like a storm, tearing through everything I thought was solid.

How did it come to this?

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to sit up in the dark room. My fingers tremble as I run them through my hair, frustration rising under the surface.

I know I can’t let this continue. Antonio is the enemy. He has to be.

But then why does the thought of him feel like anything but?

I desperately have to talk to someone.

Flinging off the covers, I practically hop off the bed, and tiptoe towards the door. I press down on the handle and hold my breath when the door eerily creaks open.

Antonio and I went up to our rooms at the same time, so without a doubt, I believe that he’s already out cold.

Shutting the door behind me, I step into the hallway and shove down my anxiety.

They’d already turned off the lights.

The house is cloaked in darkness, the kind that stretches long shadows across the walls and muffles every sound. My heart thuds in my chest as I tiptoe down the staircase, and it sounds like everything is creaking under my weight despite my best efforts.

But I am not deterred. I know what my mission is: to retrieve Agatha’s phone.

I know exactly where she keeps it—on the small table by the kitchen, tucked neatly under a pile of papers.

She never explains why she hides it there, and I never ask because she doesn’t know I’ve caught her sneaking the small Android device there. Whatever her reasons are, I could fall on the ground and worship her for making this task too easy.

I hold my breath, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, ears straining for any sign of movement. The air feels heavier, like the walls themselves are watching me.

But there’s no sound, no hint of anyone stirring.

I dart toward the kitchen, my steps quick and silent.

Just a few hours ago, the place was lit up with genuine laughter, sweet wine, the delicious aroma of pasta, and conversation between the lord and the lady of the house. Now, all that was, but another priceless memory, and the faint glow of the moon filters through the curtains, just enough to guide me.

My fingers skim the edge of the table, and there it is—the phone.

Grabbing it, I duck into the pantry, closing the door behind me. The small space smells of spices and bread, but I am in haste to connect with home to care.

I press the home button, and the screen lights up, nearly blinding me in the dark.

My fingers shake as I dial my father’s number, memorized from years of repetition.

It rings once. Twice. My breath catches, but then the voicemail clicks on.

“Damn it.” I bite down on my lip.

Hanging up, I immediately type in my sister’s number. The phone rings, and this time, relief floods through me when she answers.

Her voice comes through, sleepy and confused. “Hello?”

“Harper!” I lower my hiss, almost blinded now by a rush of tears in my eyes. I press the phone closer to my ear. “It’s me. Vivienne. I’m so sorry it’s late, but I just had to talk to you. I had to hear your voice.”

“Oh, my God. Vi!” if I know my sister as well as I do, I know she’s already drenched in tears. “Vi! Oh, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you. Are you okay? What happened? Where are you?”

My heart aches at the sound of her voice. It’s been too long. “I can’t tell you all the details right now, but I’m fine. I just… I needed to hear from you, to know you’re okay.”

“Vi. . .” the worry in her tone almost breaks me. “If you’re so fine, why aren’t you calling with your number? You’re hiding to call me, aren’t you?”

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