Protected by the Ruthless Mafia king

She heard a loud thud and crash upstairs. Mean voices yelled loudly, echoing through the house. She trembled, covering her mouth with her hand and closing her eyes tight.

She hoped they would leave if she ignored them. "There's nothing there, there's nothing there". She chanted as if it would make the sounds magically stop but the noises got louder.

She tried to listen harder, despite the clanging and breaking sounds. Then, she made out what they were saying.

"The money, Frazier. I need my goddamn money. Where is it? You're taking me for a fool, aren't you? I was lenient. Have more time than you'd asked for and I still don't have it. Bring me my fucking money!"

Goodness! It was another one of her father's creditors. She thought of how much her father might have gambled away this time. It wasn't cozy where she was in her underground room. Not one bit but she had to stay. For the twenty two years she'd lived, she'd spent it in there.

She wanted to leave, she wished she could but she couldn't. It was forbidden for her to step out. No one knew she existed. Heck! She didn't even know she existed. She had asked her parents countless time the reason why she been locked up all her life but they never gave her any good reason. They only said it was for her own good.

"I beg you, let him go. He'll die." She heard her mother's teary voice plead. They must be very dangerous for her mother to be this afraid what if they killed her father.

The thought of her father dying made her shiver and brought goosebumps to her pale, milky skin. It was true that her father was addicted to gambling and never left the tables till he had lost everything, and it was also true that he had caused her and her mom a lot of pain. But he was still her father, and she couldn't let anything happen to him. But what was she supposed to do?

The voice was like a cold wind, sending shivers down her spine. "That's enough. Bring him to me." The boss's tone was laced with menace, and memories came flooding back. The face she couldn't forget resurfaced in her mind, like a ghost from her past.

Her father's words echoed in her mind: "I'll repay the loan, I promise. Just give me a chance." But it was too late. The boss's words were followed by a brutal punch to her father's face, causing her mother to shriek in horror. The sound of her father's jaw cracking and his blood spitting out was a sound she would never forget.

She covered her ears, trying to block out the violence, but her mind was racing with questions. What had her father done with the three million pesos?

Her mother pleaded with the tormentor, "Please, have mercy! He'll pay you back, just spare his life. He won't be able to pay you back if he dies."

But the boss was unmoved, his voice cold and calculating. "He has to return it now, or he'll die here today."

Her father's desperate promises were met with a harsh laugh, followed by bones cracking. She knew if she didn't do something, she might lose her father. She searched frantically for anything that could we've as a weapon and she found a ballpin.

Jane's mother worked as a pastry chef in a little bakery downtown, where she sold cakes, pies, bread, and croissants. Jane often assisted her in shaping and flattening the dough. They were in the midst of preparing the batter when a group of men arrived at their house, prompting Jane to retreat to her room immediately.

With her weapon in hand, Jane ascended the stairs that led to a rooftop opening above an empty room used for storing her mother's equipment. After emerging silently and closing the small door behind her, she crouched down and tiptoed towards the living room where the commotion originated.

"I beg you, take whatever you want and keep it. We'll repay you, I promise," Jane's mother pleaded.

The men burst into uncontrollable laughter, playfully nudging each other.

Curious about the laughter, Jane mustered the courage to advance toward the living room. Peering from her concealed spot, she saw the stark emptiness of the room. Aside from a few worn-out chairs and an old television, there was nothing of value in the house. The house itself was in poor condition, but Jane's mother had done her best to make it habitable.

The man sneered at Jane's mother. "You have nothing of value, woman. What on earth can you give me? Look at that," he said, pointing to the roof with brown patches from past rain damage. Termites had ravaged the ceiling, and many of their nests were visible on the roof.

Jane knew her father never had enough money to repair the roof but always managed to find money for gambling. She felt a pang of shame and avoided making eye contact with the men. Even though she couldn't see them clearly, she could sense their opulence through their attire and expensive scent that filled the room.

"I have a... land," Jane's father began.

"We sold it last month, Marcus," her mother interjected.

"My... my bakery."

No, Jane thought. The bakery was their only means of survival; they would struggle to make ends meet without it. Determined to protect her family's livelihood, Jane listened intently as the man scoffed at the bakery's worth.

"How much does your little bake shop make in a month? That's some scrappy little place. I don't need it," the man remarked, reaching into his pocket.

Jane's eyes widened, and her mother gasped in horror at the sight before them.

"No-please-don't do this-" Jane's father pleaded desperately as he saw the gun being brandished. A 9mm pistol was aimed straight at his head.

"No! Please, don't kill him, I beg you! I'll do anything," Jane's mother cried out, tears streaming down her face as she fell to her knees and clung to the intruder's leg. "Please don't hurt him. Give us a little more time. We'll pay you."

But the intruder remained stoic, his gaze cold and unwavering. Ignoring Jane's mother's pleas, he callously kicked her aside and prepared to pull the trigger.

"Stop!" Jane shouted, leaping out of her hiding spot and swinging a weapon at the assailant's head. In the scuffle, he dropped the gun, but quickly recovered and deflected her attack with one hand. With a swift motion, he pushed Jane against the wall, pinning her hand above her head.

Feeling overpowered, Jane realized the intruder was stronger than she had initially thought. Struggling to free herself, she felt a sharp pain as he struck her hand, causing her to release the rolling pin she had been holding onto. Both her hands were now trapped by the intruder's grip above her head.

As their eyes locked, Jane met the gaze of the assailant's vibrant brown eyes. Initially filled with anger, shock, and annoyance, the emotions in his eyes slowly shifted, leaving a perplexing expression that Jane couldn't decipher.

And in that moment, as time seemed to stand still, Jane saw a flicker of recognition in the intruder's eyes.

It was him.