Chapter 5: The House Isn't Safe

The morning after their tense conversation was too quiet — the kind of silence that didn’t bring peace, only pressure.

The internet, however, was anything but quiet.

Headlines flooded every corner of social media:

#THEMAFIADONSECRETWIFE

#THEBILLIONAIRESWIFE

#THECEOLOVER

#THEBUSINESSMANLEGALLYMARRIED

Photos of Mara and Damon — the ones staged for their marriage contract — were everywhere. The media called it a whirlwind romance, a secret union, a power move. To the world, it was a fairytale. But to Mara, it was a lie dressed in silk and gold.

She sat on the edge of her massive bed, scrolling through endless articles. Her name was trending, her face plastered beside Damon’s. The photos showed smiles that weren’t real, touches that were rehearsed, and love that didn’t exist.

People believed it. Of course they did. When billionaires got married overnight, no one questioned it — they just watched.

She hadn’t seen Damon since dawn, when he disappeared into his office, leaving only silence behind.

The door clicked open suddenly.

“Ma’am,” said a soft voice.

A young maid stepped in, carrying a tray. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. Her eyes were kind, her posture nervous. “Your breakfast.”

Mara smiled faintly. “Thank you...?”

“Isla,” she said shyly. “I’ve been assigned as your personal maid.”

“I don’t think I need a maid—”

“It’s not up to you,” came a deep voice from the doorway.

Mara turned. Damon stood there — tall, calm, dressed in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. No tie. No mask of charm. Just quiet dominance.

“Good morning, wife,” he said, tone unreadable.

Mara frowned. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it means nothing.”

His eyes flickered. “It means everything. That’s why you have a maid, two guards, and a driver. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

“I didn’t ask for a kingdom, Damon.”

“No,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “You married a king, Mara. And kings don’t get to rest.”

His words lingered, sharp as a blade and just as cold.

“Our pictures are all over the internet,” she said, forcing calm.

“I know,” he replied. “That’s exactly what I wanted. Let them believe I’ve settled down. It makes my enemies hesitate.”

He handed her a tablet. “But that’s not why I’m here. Look at this.”

Mara took it, her eyes narrowing.

It was security footage from last night — the kitchen hallway. Two shadows moved swiftly. One of them slipped something into a wine bottle. Her favorite brand.

Her blood ran cold.

“They were trying to poison me?” she whispered.

Damon’s gaze didn’t waver. “No. They were trying to poison me.”

Her heart skipped.

“I drink that wine every night,” he said quietly. “Same brand. Same time.”

Mara’s breath trembled. “But... the bottle was on my tray.”

He nodded grimly. “It was moved.”

“If I hadn’t skipped the wine—”

“You’d be dead right now.”

She stood abruptly, panic gripping her. “Who did this?”

“I’m still investigating. But it was someone inside the house.” His voice hardened. “Which means this house isn’t safe anymore.”

The words struck like a gunshot.

She had believed marrying him would protect her — that his mansion, his guards, his name would shield her from harm. But danger was inside the walls, not beyond them.

“I want to leave,” she said suddenly. “A hotel, anywhere else.”

“No.”

“I don’t need your permission!”

He stepped forward, voice cutting but controlled. “If I can’t protect you here, what makes you think a hotel will be safer?”

“Because at least there, no one will pretend to protect me while plotting to kill me!”

Silence slammed between them. Damon’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with something close to fear.

“I’ll move you to the east wing,” he said finally. “It’s sealed, triple-locked, and guarded. I’ve changed the entire staff. Only Isla and Elias will stay. No one else gets near you.”

“You’re not listening—”

“I am,” he snapped. “I always listen. That’s why you’re still alive.”

Her lips parted, stunned.

He exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “I didn’t mean to yell. But you need to understand — in this world, there are no warnings. Only consequences.”

Mara’s voice trembled. “So what am I now? A prisoner with a ring on her finger?”

“No,” he said quietly. “You’re the reason I’d burn everything down.”

Her heart stopped.

For a moment, he didn’t look like the Mafia King. He looked like a man losing control.

“Just give me some time,” he said softly. “I’ll make this right. I swear.”

Before she could answer, a firm knock echoed from the hallway.

“Come in,” Damon ordered.

Elias entered — tall, sharp-eyed, presence like iron. “Sir, we found the traitor.”

Damon’s eyes turned to ice. “Who?”

“James. From the kitchen.”

Mara froze. “He helped me find my way around last week.”

“He’s dead,” Elias said grimly. “Slit his own throat before interrogation.”

Silence fell heavy in the room.

Mara’s stomach twisted. Everything felt smaller. Colder.

“I want you out of this house,” Damon said suddenly.

“What?”

“You’ll stay at my private villa by the coast. Only Elias, Isla, and I will be there. No one else.”

Mara’s voice trembled. “You’re isolating me.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m protecting you.”

She hesitated — then lifted her chin. “Fine. But I’m done running. If I’m going to be your wife — even a pretend one — then I want to understand your world. I want to see it.”

He studied her for a long moment, eyes unreadable.

“Then I’ll show you,” he said at last, his voice deep, dangerous, almost a vow.

And as she met his gaze, Mara couldn’t tell if she was stepping into his world — or his cage.