The Billionaire Mafia's Captive

ELENA'S POV

A stack of printed papers slammed onto my desk, scattering my neatly arranged highlighters and knocking over a half-empty cup of cold coffee.

"Explain this to me, Elena. Right now," a voice boomed, sharp and full of arrogance.

I didn't even have to look up to know who it was. Marcus Vance, our managing editor at the LA Chronicle, was standing over my cubicle, his face red with rage. He was the kind of boss who wore a five-thousand-dollar suit but had the manners of a stray dog. When he was upset, everyone in a ten-mile radius knew about it.

"Marcus, I can explain..." I started, lifting my hands defensively.

"You can explain?" he shouted, cutting me off as he snatched a few pages off my desk and flung them violently onto the floor.

"The Daily Voice just published the entire Westside corruption scoop. It's the lead story on every major news feed in the state. Millions of clicks in less than an hour! And it was supposed to be our exclusive. You were put in charge of the draft. It was sitting right in your care!"

"The source went dark on me at the last second," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the hot wave of humiliation washing over me. "I had to verify the records before publishing. I couldn't just run a story of that scale without checking the facts."

"And while you were busy playing perfect little detective, our biggest rival stole the story right out from under your nose!" Marcus leaned down, slamming his palms onto the desk divider, getting right in my face.

"Is this because of that national award you won last month? Did that TV interview go straight to your head? Because if you think you can slack off just because you got a little recognition, you're dead wrong."

"I am not slacking off," I muttered, my hands clenching under the desk.

"Listen to me carefully, Voss," Marcus growled, pointing a finger directly at my nose.

"You lose us another lead like this, you won't just be severely punished. You will be packing your desk in a cardboard box before lunch. Do you understand me?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and stormed back toward his private glass office, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the partitions.

The entire open-plan newsroom went dead silent. I could feel every single pair of eyes on me. I looked around the sea of cubicles. Most of my coworkers looked away quickly, but two people caught my attention immediately.

Jaden was sitting three desks down. He was my ex-boyfriend, a fellow reporter who had broken my heart into a million pieces when I found out he was cheating.

Right now, he was looking at me with a conflicted expression. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't pitiful either. He just looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

Sitting right next to him was Chloe, the very girl he had cheated on me with. Unlike Jaden, Chloe wasn't trying to hide her emotions. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat, her eyes full of pure malice. She hated me because my pieces always got better placement on the site. To her, my public downfall was the best part of her morning.

I couldn't breathe in there. I needed to get away from the staring eyes and the toxic air.

I grabbed my phone and walked quickly toward the emergency exit stairs at the back of the building. It was the only quiet place where I could clear my head. My chest felt tight, a mix of anger and sheer frustration boiling under my skin. I needed to talk to someone who felt like home.

I dialed Zara's number. It rang all the way to voicemail. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

Zara worked as a corporate banker, and her branch had a zero-tolerance policy about having personal calls on the transaction floor. I knew she couldn't answer while she was handling client accounts.

But I still needed a distraction.

I decided to call Ricky Davis, Zara's ex. They shared custody of my beautiful three-year-old goddaughter, Maya, and I knew she was staying with him this weekend.

Ricky answered on the second ring. "Hey, Elena! What's up?"

"Hey, Ricky," I said, forcing my voice to sound lighter than it actually was. "Just taking a quick break at work. Is my favorite little girl around?"

"She sure is. We're just finishing up some pancakes," Ricky chuckled. "Hold on, let me hand her the phone. Maya, look who it is! It's Auntie Elena."

A second later, a sweet, high-pitched voice filled my ear. "Auntie El!"

A genuine smile finally broke across my face, the heavy weight in my chest lifting instantly. "Hi, my little princess! What are you doing today?"

"Eating pancakes with strawberries!" Maya giggled, chewing loudly. "Daddy made them into a smiley face. When are you coming to play with my blocks?"

"Very soon, baby. I promise. You eat all your strawberries for Daddy, okay? I love you."

"Love you too, Auntie El! Bye-bye!"

She handed the phone back to Ricky, and I thanked him for letting me speak to her, and hung up. Hearing her voice always reminded me of what actually mattered in life. Work was just work.

Just as I locked my phone, it began to vibrate in my palm. Zara's name flashed across the screen. I answered it immediately.

"Elena! Oh my god, I saw your missed call," Zara whispered frantically. I could hear the faint, echoing acoustics of the bank's executive restroom in the background.

"I had to literally sneak away from my desk and run to the bathroom just to call you back. The branch manager is on a total warpath today about our numbers. Are you okay? It's unlike you to call during work hours."

"Marcus just ripped me apart in front of the entire office," I confessed, the bitterness returning to my voice. "We lost the Westside lead to the Daily Voice. He threatened to fire me, Zara. He literally threw papers on the floor like a child."

"That absolute piece of garbage!" Zara hissed through the phone, her voice dripping with protective fury. "I swear, if I didn't have a kid to feed, I would walk out of this bank, drive over to your office, and shove his expensive watch down his throat. Don't let him get to you, El. You are the best writer they have. He's just taking his own failures out on you."

"I know," I sighed, leaning my head against the cold concrete wall of the stairwell. "It just hurts. I worked so hard on that piece."

"Listen to me. We are going to get tacos tonight, we are going to open a bottle of cheap wine, and we are going to trash-talk Marcus until we feel better. Okay? Just breathe. I have to run before they think I went missing from the floor, but I love you."

"Love you too. See you tonight."

Hanging up, I felt a little better. Zara always knew how to ground me. We were more than best friends, we were sisters.

I pushed the heavy metal door open and stepped back into the quiet hallway leading toward the main newsroom. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to face the whispers and the stares again.

But as I walked past the dark alcove near the old archives room - a corner of the floor that was rarely used since everything went digital, I heard a strange sound. It was a heavy, ragged gasp, followed by the unmistakable friction of fabric rubbing against a wall.

Curiosity overrode my anger. I stepped closer, peering around the shadowy corner. I was shocked.

Jaden was bending against the wall, his hands firmly gripping Chloe's hips. Her skirt was pulled up high around her thighs, and her shirt was completely unbuttoned, exposing her lacy black bra. She was pinned between Jaden's body and the concrete, her head thrown back as his mouth devoured her neck. Jaden was groaning, his fingers digging deep into her skin, lifting her slightly as she wrapped one leg tightly around his waist.

A wave of pure disgust washed over me. This was the man I had loved for two years. This was the man who used to look at me with devotion, now aggressively pinning another woman in a dark office hallway.

I let out a sharp, involuntary scoff of irritation.

The sound cut through the quiet corner like a gunshot. Jaden's head snapped up instantly. His eyes widened in absolute shock when he saw me standing there. He let go of Chloe so fast she almost lost her balance, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

She stumbled back, quickly pulling her skirt down and clutching her open shirt over her chest. Her flushed face twisted from passion to surprise.

Both of them stood frozen in the dark corner, completely breathless, staring at me like they had just seen a ghost.