The Mafia's Plaything: His To Ruin

Brinda.

“…That’s it. There’s nothing more I can do.” Dr. McMasters’ voice was calm—too calm—like the words didn’t just tear through the last thread of my sanity.

My vision blurred, not from tears—those had long dried up—but from the sheer weight of his finality.

It felt like he had just sealed my fate.

Have you ever been in a situation where it feels like everything you’ve ever known—everything you’ve ever loved—is slipping away right before your eyes?

Have you ever had a near-death experience so real, so raw, that you looked up and asked the heavens why you were still here?

Have you ever searched for answers or for a way out of the storm in your soul—only to find silence?

That… is life.

That… is fate.

Yours can never be mine, and mine can never be yours—not even if we share the same blood. Not even if we were born on the same day.

No matter how hard we try, fate always takes its course—leading us either to destruction or to salvation.

The truth can be buried in the darkest grave. Flesh can burn in the cruelest of flames. But reality… reality always rises. And when it does, it comes to collect.

“You need to start looking for the money, Brinda. There's nothing much the hospital can do.” He said, his voice dropping drastically. I watched closely enough to see that he couldn't stop the tears that he was trying so hard to control.

“Please… I have no one. Who will I turn to?” I asked him, my voice gentle.

“I can't help you. You've just worked with us for a month. Your salary can't cover it nor can the hospital cover your expenses. You have to find a way to save your mother yourself.”

The room fell dead as he threw his words at me before he staggered into his personal bathroom while I gripped the hem of my scrub.

My knees buckled as the door shut behind him. I stood there, caught in a silence so thick it choked me. My thoughts spiraled—how do you process the kind of news that rips your soul from your body?

I pressed my back against the cold wall, willing myself to breathe. My mother... The one person I had left in this world. And now…

She has just been diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. A condition so cruel, it crushes your lungs while you’re still alive. And she needs surgery. Seventy-two hours. That’s all I’ve been given.

A month ago, I started working in Greenfield hospital after my graduation from college. I was hoping to receive my salary then go on some shopping spree with my mother but that was a dream that would never come true.

Earlier today, I ended my shift and bought some food on my way home. Stepping into the living room, I met my mother coughing and holding on tight to her chest at the same time.

I had to rush her to the hospital here only to be told she has COPD.

And whose fault was it?

Mine!

I had not paid much attention to her for the past few days. I have been so preoccupied with work that I barely had time to focus on her though I noticed that she had lost some weight.

With no family, no friends, no accomplice, I picked up my phone and headed to the ward where my mother was, but when I got to the entrance, I couldn't enter. The tears that had dried up inside me began to flow out and I covered my mouth to stop me from shouting before I stormed out of the hospital.

Everything is coming to an end…

My breath quickened as I ran further from the hospital building. I headed towards the main road at full speed and when I was about to cross the road, a familiar hand pulled me back.

I bit his hand, instructing him to leave me alone and let me do what I had in mind but he wouldn't. He just remained calm as usual while I dug my teeth into his flesh.

“It's okay. Bite me as much as you can.” Peter whispered into my ear.

I let out a sigh as I got my sanity back. I pushed back from his body before I covered my mouth with my hands while I stepped backward.

“I'm sorry.”

That was all I could say before I darted towards the main road again but he pulled me back into his warm arms.

“It will be fine.” He muttered, his voice soothing like that of a baby just learning how to speak.

I almost lost my footing but he was able to grab me and carry me in his arms to the nearby roadside eatery. We sat in the dimly lit room before I started to sneeze. He offered me a handkerchief.

“I know you must be devastated by the news. But it's not the end, Brinda.” He wrapped his hands around mine as he crouched down beside me. “You have to live well.”

“I can't let her die.” I teared up again.

“She may not be your biological mother, but she’s the one who raised you. She picked you up from a junkyard when no one else would. She ran with you, hid you, and sacrificed everything for you.”

Peter’s eyes held mine, unwavering. “She didn’t just try her best, Brinda… she became your mother. Through every tear, every scar, every struggle… she made you hers. And if you want her to survive, then you must live to find a solution, right?”

I nodded my head in response.

“And we will find the solution together. How much time do we have left?” He asked, sniffing.

“Seventy two hours,”

His face went pale instantly though, he tried to hide it but he has always been a bad liar. He can't lie. He doesn't know how to.

“We will find a way out.”

I watched him move away from my side while I gulped down some water. He raised his phone to his ear, dialing some numbers.

After some minutes, I saw him stomp his feet on the ground in disappointment. He raised his phone up in the air and he was about to smash it on the floor when I shouted his name.

Hearing that, he stilled.

I got to where he was and placed my hand on his shoulder, “I can't watch you grieve like this because of me. It's not worth it. I'm not worth it.”

“You are the one grieving,” tears rolled down his cheeks. “And it's worth it. Is our love not strong enough? Your mother, Sarah, took me as her child. How can I leave you in such a critical time like this? How can I let her die?”

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes simultaneously. “I will find the money. I will be right back. Please, make sure you keep an eye on my mother”

“Where will you go? What will you do? How will you get the money?” He grabbed my arm.

Where do I tell him? No. I can't. Some secrets are better off kept. There is only one solution now and that will be what I will follow. After all, living in this world feels meaningless…

“To the place it all started.”

Brinda.

The city lights blurred past the taxi window like fading memories I didn’t want to remember. My fingers tapped against my thighs, restless, my breath shallow.

Each turn of the tires brought me closer to a place I had buried—the club. The place I had once called survival. The place I had promised never to return to.

But desperation doesn’t ask for permission. It just drags you by the throat.

My stomach twisted, a cocktail of shame and dread. My heart pounded against my ribs, not in fear, but in a sick rhythm of remembrance—The music, the smoke, and the hands that reached for me in the dark.

I had walked away from all of it. Yet here I was, willingly crawling back. Not for myself but for the woman who gave everything for me to have a better life.

But I couldn’t stop the way my hands trembled, how every breath felt like glass scraping my lungs. I wasn’t just heading to a club—I was walking into my past, into every piece of myself I swore I would outgrow.

And I was scared that it would recognize me… and welcome me home.

The taxi came to a sudden halt, jerking my body forward. I looked through the window and saw the familiar building.

While I attended college, I worked part time at the club and was able to make some money but how the hell will I make over twenty thousand dollars in seventy hours?

Impossible!

I paid the driver, alighted from the taxi and made my way into the club, still dressed in my scrub. I tried my best to avoid the lustful gaze of men in the club but it didn't take work. Their eyes were all on me but I was pretty less concerned.

Since I knew the way to Mr. Donald's room, I didn't wait for anyone. I darted towards his door. His guards stopped me for some time and they later allowed me in as if they had expected my arrival.

Entering the room, I met him taking a nap on the sofa. On his desk were some items as well as a knife. He always had that with him. A smirk played on my lips before I tapped him gently on his shoulder. His eyes flipped open slowly.

He tilted his head. And as soon as he saw me, a smile spread across his lips. “See who we have here? Isn't it nice to see Brinda Virginia again?”

I let out a sigh while I walked to the sofa opposite him. “Can I get my job back?” I requested politely.

“You left voluntarily,” he said, eyes scanning me like a commodity. “What happened, princess? Reality hit you too hard?”

“I don’t need a lecture,” I replied through clenched teeth. “I just need the job.”

“The floor is all yours.” He chimed, his eyes glinting with satisfaction before he returned to his nap.

I waggled my eyebrow, thinking about why Donald would have agreed quickly. He had always been a stubborn headed man.

Could there be a reason? Whatever the reason may be, I have to save my mother first.

A few minutes later, his brother, Desmond, came into the room and Donald ordered that he take me out to change my dress.

As we entered the dressing room, I could feel the eyes of my fellow dancers—male and female—staring, their judgment heavy in the air. I didn’t flinch, but inside, the humiliation was a quiet storm.

From a nurse to a stripper. How had I fallen so far?

I opened my locker. My heart raced faster as my eyes came in contact with the purse that contained five hundred dollars I had kept in my locker a day before I left the clubhouse.

What a bright idea to come back here.

I looked away and started dressing up, hoping to get it after I was done stripping.

Every girl dreams of a loving family, but I was abandoned by mine. If someone ever asked what my parents looked like, I would have no answer.

I don’t even carry their name. My identity—my whole life—was stolen from me. Instead, I became ‘Brinda Virginia,’an orphan with no place to call home.

If only…

Desmond's harsh voice snapped me from my thoughts. “How long are you going to take to get dressed? Do you think you're at the fucking hospital you work at?” His growl made my pulse quicken. “I don't know why you're back but if you're here to cause any sort of trouble, I’ll pluck your eyes out.”

I shot him a deadly glare but I couldn’t afford to make him wait. I threw on the tight black skirt, my skin prickling with self-consciousness as I struggled to keep my dignity intact but for how long?

With the mirror as my only witness, I took in my reflection—long white hair, thick eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, a nose that was delicate, full red lips, dimpled cheeks, and a baby face that didn’t belong in a place like this.

Of course, it doesn't but behind lies secrets that shouldn't be unraveled.

I followed Desmond out and when we stepped into the dark, smoky room, the noise and heat hit me like a freight train. My heart skipped—What if one of them had been one of my patients? What would they think of me after I had turned down several advances in a short time?

But there was no time for regrets. I had seventy-two hours to save my dying mother. That’s all that mattered.

“Entertain them well.” Desmond patted my shoulder and left.

Quickly, I made my way to the podium, breathless. My face clouded with mixed emotions. I surveyed the faces in the room, though I couldn't see some of them because of the dim light.

However, my eyes locked on a man who stood out—He was dressed in black, wearing a mask that hid his features. My eyes scanned his features and my mouth opened slightly while my breath quickened.

Why?

His posture only reminds me of a bastard I once knew.

Three hulking guards flanked him, their presence an unmistakable sign of his wealth and power. If I could catch his attention, maybe I could secure a bigger tip—perhaps even more.

As the heavy beat pulsed through the speakers and the red lights bathed the stage in shadows and temptation, I stepped into the spotlight like I was stepping into a memory—one I had buried a month ago.

My fingers brushed through my hair, slow and deliberate, lifting it from my shoulders before letting it fall in a cascade down my back.

I took a step forward—my hips rolled with a sensual rhythm while my arms swayed like silk ribbons. The warm air licked my bare skin, but the fire within me burned hotter with every beat.

The music guided me as if it had been written for my bones. I twirled slowly, deliberately, letting the ends of my hair fan outward. My hands traced the curve of my waist, down to my thighs, dragging the audience’s attention like a magnet.

Of course, a woman's perfect spot to lure men in.

I turned and gave them my back, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, knowing full well the tease I was creating. My fingers slid up the gleaming silver pole. I wrapped one leg around it, the other extending into a graceful line before I spun— my hair swirling like wildfire, limbs fluid and untamed.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by a wave of whistles and applause. A man in the front row leaned forward, his drink forgotten in his hand, his eyes wide as if I’d just pulled him into a dream he didn’t know he wanted.

I locked eyes with him and dipped low, letting my hips roll slow and deliberate, my gaze burning into his soul like a silent dare. The audience wasn’t just watching me—they were devouring me.

And I gave myself to the moment.

My movements grew bolder after some graceful splits. My chest rose and fell in time with the music, breathless and commanding. I wasn’t just dancing.

I was reclaiming something.

And then, in a single fluid motion, I spun, presenting my back to the crowd as I wrapped myself around the pole.

My chest heaved, my breath coming in sharp, measured gasps. The audience cheered, their applause ringing in my ears like an affirmation of everything I had to offer.

Then, Desmond stormed in, shooing the crowd out silently. I was still in a daze when I noticed the masked man stood and strode toward the podium. His guards wheeled a sofa closer, and he settled into it, crossing his legs with deliberate calm.

“Strip,” he commanded, his voice smooth, yet chilling. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep dancing. My body moved in slow, sensual waves, though every second felt like a punishment. I danced for what felt like hours—twenty minutes, but it dragged like an eternity. The longest I had danced.

Then, his voice sliced through the tension, “Damsel.” The Italian accent barely veiled his distaste but the voice… It's familiar, right?

“It didn't really grab me, and it feels like you were holding back. This isn't what I was looking for, so… no pay.”

The words hit like a slap. “What? You can't do that!” I exploded, my voice sharp with frustration.

He smirked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward me. His left hand tucked into his pocket, and my heart raced as he ascended the podium. Before I could react, his hand snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. His fingers gripped my skin, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

And then… He spanked me.

My palm burned before it connected with his cheek, the slap, very satisfying. “Watch it,” I hissed. “Don’t you know the rules here?”

His eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with challenge. “Why don’t you treat me to the rules?” His hand reached for my face, but I swatted it away.

“Next time, I’ll make it two slaps,” I warned, the venom in my words matching the fire in my veins.

I turned, only to see Donald smirking at the door, rubbing his protruding belly.

“You can't talk to our client like that? Where are your manners?” He scolded.

Wow! Well planned. He saw the masked man go against the rule and he said nothing? This is insane.

“It's against the rule, Mr. Donald.”

“Whoever made a rule can bend it.” He replied, before he walked out of the room.

“You will come running to my feet, Damsel. I will be your saviour. Take it or leave it.” The masked man said, his gaze boring into mine.

“Over my dead body.” I forbid it then I yanked his hands off my body before I burst into Mr. Donald’s office.

My fury subsided as my eyes scanned the bundles of cash on the table. Donald had a huge smile on his face as he paid the other strippers. “That's double your payment.” He laughed. The other strippers had barely left the room when I approached him, determined to get a double payment too.

“Can I get mine too?” I asked, scanning the bundles of cash.

“The client said you won't receive any payment until he’s fully satisfied.” He retorted and before I could respond, he pulled out a card with a black rose printed on it and shoved it in my face. “That's all you can get.”

My heart skipped a bit. The black rose. The other past I was trying so hard to run from. It's… it's… Not now, at least. Is the masked man from… No, no, it can't be.

He sank into the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. “Get the hell out of my sight.”

The words felt like a slap to the face but my eyes narrowed to the left and caught the knife I saw earlier, I returned my eyes to his direction and saw him lost in the money on the table.

I picked the knife. Swiftly, I got behind him and placed the knife on his neck.

“If you kill me now, that doesn't guarantee your mother will survive. Choose wisely.” Mr. Donald called gently.

So, they've been watching me. He knew what was going on in my life. “Pay me right away or die.” I trailed the knife across his neck and his body trembled.

“Should we… we strike a deal instead?” He asked.

“What deal?” I questioned, my voice stern and cold.

“I will pay for your mother's treatment and in return, you will follow the masked man.” He answered, closing his eyes.

Follow the masked man? Do they work together? Hell no! What is he playing at?

My grip on the knife softened before I dropped it. I can't kill anyone. I can't kill anymore. I had better let the past stay in the past.

I hissed then I kicked the sofa hard before I left the room but not after dropping a warning for him, “First thing tomorrow morning, I want my pay.

I ran to the dressing room immediately and opened my locker to retrieve the money, at least, that would work as a deposit. But… The cupboard was empty. Nothing was in it except my scrubs. My last hope was gone.

Isn't this the beginning of my ruin?