𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

“𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞” —𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐲

Jacob Elordi was one of the most feared mafia bosses in the world. He controlled an empire so vast that in a good week, his income rivaled that of a small nation 5 billion euros, easily. His private life was shrouded in mystery; he lived in a fortress-like mansion that could have been mistaken for a castle, guarded by men who were as loyal as they were lethal.

You lived with your aunt and her husband after your entire family had been wiped out. They were cruel—both emotionally and physically and their home was a prison of fear. Your aunt’s husband, Mason, had a dangerous habit of gambling, often sinking into schemes he couldn’t control. A few days ago, he had the misfortune—or stupidity of betting against Jacob Elordi. Jacob had won, as expected, but Mason refused to pay. He vanished into hiding, thinking the mafia boss would not come for him.

It was an ordinary Friday at noon when the world turned upside down. A thunderous bang echoed through the house as the front door burst open. Your aunt froze, horror in her eyes, as the polished black shoes of Jacob Elordi appeared on the porch, flanked by his bodyguards silent, deadly, and unyielding.

Jacob’s voice cut through the tense air, low and sharp, his Australian accent smooth yet threatening. Jacob: “Where is he?”

Your aunt stammered, calling for Mason, who emerged slowly, dread written across his face. His eyes widened at the sight of Jacob.

Mason: “Wh-what are you doing here, Jacob?”

^Jacob: “I want what’s mine. Seven billion euros, remember?”*

Mason: “I—I don’t have it…”

Jacob chuckled, a sound that made the room freeze. In an instant, his bodyguards raised their rifles, trained unwaveringly on Mason and your aunt.

Jacob: “I said, give me my money.”

Before the tension could escalate further, you appeared at the top of the stairs, drawn by the commotion. Your heart raced as you took in the scene: your aunt and Mason on their knees, the menacing rifles aimed at them, and Jacob standing there, the picture of cold, predatory power.

You: “What the hell is going on?”

Jacob’s gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Jacob: “I think… I want her. I’ll take her instead of the money.”

The chill that ran down your spine was nothing compared to the raw authority emanating from him.