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The stolen affection

The stolen affection

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12 Chapters
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In the dazzling chaos of New York City, Ariana Whitmore lived a simple, invisible life-until the night everything was ripped away. Sold like property to a ruthless stranger, she was forced into a world she never imagined: one ruled by secrets, betrayal, and blood money. Leonardo De Luca-the feared Mafia boss from Italy-was a man of dark power and darker desires. To him, Ariana was just another possession, another pawn in his endless game of revenge. He broke her trust. He shattered her innocence. He stole her affection without mercy. But what happens when a broken soul refuses to stay broken? Betrayed by those she loved, crushed by a man she couldn't resist, Ariana will rise from the ashes. She will not just survive the injustice. She will conquer it. She will become the woman every man fears...and the woman Leonardo can never control. In a world of lies, hatred, and shattered promises, can stolen affection turn into a dangerous love? Or will betrayal destroy them both? New York. Italy. Two hearts. One brutal war. Get ready for a romance fueled by vengeance, betrayal, and forbidden passion.

Chapter 1 The Weight of the World

The sharp, bitter wind of Brooklyn's winter bit into Ariana Whitmore's thin jacket as she stepped off the crowded bus, clutching the torn straps of her second-hand backpack. The city roared around her - angry car horns, shouting vendors, and the endless rumble of life moving faster than she could ever keep up.

It was just another night.

Another night she had to survive.

Ariana's boots, their soles worn thin, slapped the cracked pavement as she hurried toward the crumbling apartment complex she called home. The streets smelled of oil, rain, and forgotten dreams - the scent of the city's forgotten souls, people like her who didn't have the luxury of hope.

Reaching the chipped door of her building, Ariana yanked it open and climbed the graffiti-stained stairwell two steps at a time, ignoring the sharp protests of her aching legs. She had just come from her second job - waitressing at Tony's, a dingy 24-hour diner - and she was already late for the third: night shifts at a convenience store down on Madison Avenue.

But first, she had to check on her mother.

Room 3B creaked open under her trembling hands.

The smell of cheap medication and despair hit her immediately.

"Mom?" she called softly, stepping into the dim, cold apartment.

From the sagging couch, a frail figure stirred under a pile of mismatched blankets. Ariana's heart twisted at the sight. Her mother, once vibrant and strong, now looked like a shadow - hollow cheeks, sallow skin, hair thinned from too many treatments they couldn't afford.

"You're home late," her mother whispered, trying to sit up.

Ariana rushed to her side, helping her.

"I'm fine, Mom. You need anything?" she asked, forcing a smile that didn't reach her tired brown eyes.

Her mother shook her head weakly. "You work too hard, baby. This...this isn't the life I wanted for you."

Ariana laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "Well, it's the life we've got."

She gently tucked the blankets tighter around her mother, masking the worry clawing at her gut. They were three months behind on rent. The hospital bills kept coming. And the loan shark her mother had secretly borrowed from - Vincent Moretti, a name that made Ariana's blood run cold - was getting impatient.

They had no way out.

Ariana kissed her mother's forehead and promised she'd bring her some soup after her next shift. Then, grabbing her backpack again, she headed back out into the night.

The city swallowed her whole.

---

The convenience store smelled of bleach and stale chips. Ariana stood behind the counter, the neon lights buzzing overhead, her eyes gritty from exhaustion.

Two drunk men stumbled in, laughing too loud, but Ariana barely looked up.

She was used to the types that prowled the late-night streets - desperate, dangerous, and unpredictable.

As the clock crept toward 3 a.m., she thought about her life in flashes:

The art school scholarship she had once dreamed of accepting.

The sketches hidden under her mattress.

The future that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

She wiped down the counter mechanically.

Her body was here, but her soul was somewhere else - somewhere better, somewhere free.

She didn't see the dark SUV pull up outside.

She didn't notice the sharp suits stepping into the store until it was too late.

The bell above the door chimed once.

Two men - cold, sharp-eyed, predators in human skin - entered the store. One locked the door behind them. The other approached the counter with slow, deliberate steps.

"Ariana Whitmore?" the taller one asked, his voice low and smooth.

She blinked, her hands freezing mid-wipe.

"Who's asking?"

The man smiled, but there was no kindness in it.

Only teeth.

"You have a debt," he said simply. "It's time to pay."

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She stumbled back as they vaulted the counter easily, grabbing her arms.

"Wait! Wait, please-!" she cried, struggling uselessly.

Nobody heard her.

Nobody cared.

This was Brooklyn. People knew when to mind their own business.

Ariana kicked and screamed, but the world tilted, spun, and blurred as they dragged her into the night.

The SUV door slammed behind her, sealing her fate.

Her last glimpse of the city was the flickering OPEN 24 HOURS sign.

And then darkness swallowed her whole.

---

When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was the silence.

No car horns. No shouting. No life.

Ariana blinked against the dim light. She was in a large room - cold, stone walls, no windows. Chains hung from the ceiling. A low hum of murmured voices filled the air, thick with tension.

Then she saw the stage.

And the people - powerful, cruel-looking men in expensive suits and designer dresses - sitting in rows like an audience at some twisted play.

Understanding hit her like a punch to the gut.

This wasn't a kidnapping.

It was an auction.

Tears burned her eyes as a masked man approached, grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her forward.

"No, please-!" she sobbed.

But her voice was lost under the noise of the room.

She stumbled onto the stage, her heart hammering so loud she could barely hear the auctioneer's voice as he began the bidding.

"Lot 27," the man announced with a sneer. "Fresh. Untouched. Weak - but pretty."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Ariana wanted to die right there.

---

In the back of the room, leaning against a marble pillar, stood Leonardo De Luca.

Mafia king. Billionaire. A man whose name was whispered with fear even in the darkest corners of New York and Italy.

His dark eyes - colder than a winter storm - settled on Ariana with detached amusement.

She was nothing special.

Poor. Weak. Pathetic.

But there was something in the way she glared at the crowd through her tears. A spark.

Something most slaves didn't have.

Curiosity flickered through him - a rare feeling for a man like Leonardo, who had seen too much, done too much, to feel anything anymore.

With a lazy raise of two fingers, he placed a bid.

Higher than anyone else.

Silence fell.

The auctioneer beamed. "Sold! To Mr. De Luca."

Ariana's world shattered again as she was dragged off the stage.

She didn't know it yet - but her life had just been stolen by a devil.

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