Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 202 - 12 ~ Mira

Sleep didn’t come easily after that night.

Even though Jace held me close, even though the house felt warm and familiar, something inside me wouldn’t settle. It was like my mind kept replaying that half-second of fear in the kitchen, over and over again, asking me if what I saw had been real.

By morning, I still didn’t have the answer.

But I also didn’t want to live in fear especially not now.

So I got dressed slowly, picking one of Jace’s soft shirts from his side of the closet, the one that still smelled faintly like his cologne. I brushed my hair back loosely, and when I looked in the mirror, the girl looking back at me felt... tired. Not physically — emotionally. Like my head had been running faster than my body could keep up.

Downstairs, I found Jace in the kitchen already.

He wasn’t hovering, not exactly, but he was watching me. The same way you watch a glass vase at the edge of a table. Not because you think it’s fragile. But because it’s precious.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, softly.

"Yes," I lied. "You?"

He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push. "Breakfast is ready."

He didn’t answer me either.

There were fresh berries, yogurt, warm bread, honey. He had set everything up neatly, too neatly. Like his hands needed something to do so his mind didn’t spiral.

We ate quietly. But not awkward quiet, it was just a heavy quiet. The kind where both of you are thinking something but neither wants to say it first.

I placed my fork down. "I want to go for a walk."

His head lifted a little. Not sharply, not defensively but alert. "Where?"

"Around the neighborhood. Just... outside." I tried to keep my voice gentle. "I’ve been in the house too much."

He didn’t respond at first.

So I filled the silence.

"I don’t want to feel like I’m hiding," I said. "I just want air. That’s all."

His jaw tightened just slightly — not with anger. With fear. The quiet kind he never admitted.

But then, after a long breath, he nodded once.

"I’ll come with you."

I smiled, a little relieved. "Okay."

Of course he came with me.

We stepped out through the front door. The morning light was soft, golden. The air had that faint sea breeze that made LA feel lighter than New York ever did. Everything looked calm. Safe. Familiar.

Two guards followed. Not close enough to intrude, just close enough to react.

Jace slipped his hand into mine, and I squeezed it gently. The sidewalk was shaded by tall trees, their leaves rustling lazily in the wind. A few neighbors passed by, smiling the easy smiles of people who didn’t know what the world was capable of.

I envied them a little. I wished my world was as normal as theirs.

The rhythm of our steps felt grounding. A slow, unspoken pace. My body knew his beside me. The way his fingers curled around mine. The way his thumb moved absently over my knuckles.

For a moment, it was just us.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked quietly.

He didn’t hesitate. "No."

"But you’re distant." I said, looking up to see his face. He seemed distant and stern, even with me.

"I’m thinking."

"About?"

He inhaled slowly. "How to protect you without taking your freedom away."

That sentence hit me harder than I expected.

I didn’t respond at first. I just squeezed his hand and kept walking.

Because the truth was — I didn’t want to be protected to the point of not living. Not again.

I had been enjoying a lot of freedom in the past months and I didn’t want it to be taken again.

We passed the small bakery two streets over. The one I used to stop at when I needed inspiration. The scent of cinnamon drifted from the back vents, warm and nostalgic. I paused without meaning to.

Jace noticed.

"You want to go in?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. I just like the smell."

My baby moved and I smiled. She probably liked it too.

We stood there for a second, just breathing, just being.

A small dog ran past us on a leash, dragging a laughing kid behind it. A couple jogged by, and the girl waved when she recognized me from the bakery’s Instagram. A few palm leaves rustled overhead.

Normal.

Simple.

I needed this.

"Jace," I said softly as we continued walking. "I know something is bothering you. You don’t have to pretend it’s nothing."

His jaw flexed again. "I’ll handle it."

I stopped walking and pulled his hand, making him face me.

"I don’t want to be protected by silence. Not anymore. We’ve gone past this, Jace." I looked at him with imploring eyes.

He exhaled, but his eyes softened — not with surrender, but with understanding.

"I know," he said quietly. "I’m trying. I love you."

A small smile made its way up my lips. My heart still fluttered no matter how many times he said the words.

"I love you too." I said back.

We continued walking hand in hand.

And even though nothing was fully solved, the space between us felt warmer. More honest.

By the time we got home, my chest felt a little lighter.

But when we stepped inside, I paused.

I couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was the shift of the air. Maybe the memory of last night. Maybe just the shadows stretching differently in the hallway.

But something felt off.

Like the house was watching me again.

I told myself it was the wind. That I was tired. That hormones were dramatic.

But as Jace locked the door behind us, I couldn’t shake the thought:

Something had changed.

And the house felt different now.

Not unsafe.

Just... aware.

I rested a hand on my stomach.

"Everything’s fine," I whispered to myself.

But my heartbeat said otherwise.

By the next day, I fully understood why I felt the way I did.