From Grieving Mother to Mafia Queen Chapter 06

From Grieving Mother to Mafia Queen Chapter 06: “What have I done?”

Three months. Not a word from me.

After I left, the Corleones went straight to hell.

The turf got stolen. Guys jumped ship, left and right.

Tony, Vincent’s right-hand man, brought bad news every damn day.

“Boss, we lost two more clubs.” Tony’s face was dark. “Over fifty guys walked.”

Vincent sat in his office, fists tight. He wanted to call me. But every time he reached for the phone, Tommy just happened to fall or get sick.

“Daddy!” Tommy ran in crying. “I fell! It hurts!”

Vincent saw the scraped knee, put down the phone, and helped him treat the wound.

“Don’t cry. Daddy’s here,” he whispered, petting Tommy’s head.

Happened several times a day.

Sophia did everything to keep him glued to her side.

She’d curl up in his arms, eyes all teary. “When Serafina comes back, will she kill Tommy and me? She’s gotta hate us. She’s a Hart heiress. She could wipe us out easily.”

“Don’t say that,” Vincent said. “Serafina’s not like that.”

“But she already cut our protection…” Sophia sobbed. “She knew it’d wreck us, and she did it anyway.”

Vincent went quiet.

For two weeks straight, he was stuck between comforting Sophia and putting out fires.

Then one night, he dreamed.

In the dream, Sonny stood there, dripping wet, little body blue from the cold.

“Daddy…” Sonny cried. “Why didn’t you save me? Why’d you let someone else have my room? Why’d you throw all my stuff away?”

Vincent tried to hug him. Sonny’s shape started fading.

“Daddy, Mommy’s hurting so bad… Why’d you hurt Mommy?”

“Sonny!” Vincent shot up, drenched in sweat.

He looked at Sophia sleeping next to him. Emptiness and guilt crashed down.

He got up quietly and went out to the balcony.

Moonlight hit him. Reminded him of the night we met.

Back then, I was a wild mafia princess. He knew right away I was the one. Even though he still had feelings for Sophia, it was the first time he thought an arranged marriage might actually be good.

And now…

Vincent shook his head hard. Ignored sleeping Sophia. Finally picked up the phone.

His hands shook dialing my number.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service…”

“No way…” He tried again. Same thing.

Disconnected? What the hell?

A fear he’d never felt crawled up his chest.

He threw on clothes and drove like a maniac back to our old mansion.

He wanted to find something-anything-I might’ve left.

But when he pushed open the master bedroom door, it was bare. My clothes, jewelry, books-all gone. Even the wedding photo was missing.

“Sophia!” Vincent screamed into the phone. “Where’s my stuff? Where’s all of Serafina’s things?”

“Vincent? What’s wrong?” Sophia sounded scared.

“I asked you-where’s her stuff?”

“I… I thought you didn’t want to see it anymore, so…”

“So what?”

“I threw it out,” Sophia whispered. “Sonny’s things too.”

Vincent roared, “How the f*ck dare you?! Those were the last things my son had!”

Sophia scrambled. “I thought… I thought you wanted to forget the past…’

Vincent hung up and tore through the empty room. Closets, drawers, under the bed-nothing.

Just when he was about to give up, he found an old phone in the library safe. A backup I’d used.

His hands shook as he typed the password-our wedding anniversary. The screen lit up. A flood of unread

texts.

All from Sophia.

He opened the first: “Good thing your son died. He was worthless.”

A chill ran down his spine. He kept reading.

“Your son deserved it. He never had his father’s love.”

“You think Vincent really loves you? I’m the only one in his heart.”

“Just wait. I’ll make sure you lose everything.”

But the real bomb was still coming.

The photos. He and Sophia in bed, naked. Time stamps showed they were taken the day after Sonny’s funeral.

Vincent hit the floor. The phone slipped from his shaking hands.

“What have I done…”

He covered his face, groaning like a wounded animal.

He realized: when I needed him most, he’d betrayed me. Sophia had been torturing me behind his back, and he had no clue. The pain I’d gone through was worse than he ever imagined.

“Serafina…. I’m sorry… I’m so f*cking sorry…”

He knelt on the floor, voice wrecked.

Too late. He finally got it. I didn’t throw a tantrum. Not over some petty fight. Despair. Pure, total despair.