Shattered Vows: The Mob Wife's Revenge
Chapter 2
Elana POV:
The ceiling of the hospital room was stark, unforgiving white.
Not the expensive, creamy white of the casino marble I was used to.
It was the sterile, cheap white of a place where people come to die.
I tried to sit up.
Agony ripped through my core, forcing a ragged gasp from my dry throat.
My hand drifted instinctively to my stomach.
It was flat.
Hollow.
The doctor had already told me.
"Spontaneous abortion due to trauma," he had said.
Trauma.
That was a polite word for "your husband chose his bastard son over you."
The door clicked opened.
Emilio walked in.
He looked exhausted. His tie was loose, his hair in disarray.
Usually, this disheveled look made my heart race.
Now, it just made me feel cold.
He stopped at the foot of the bed.
He didn't come to the side to hold my hand.
"Elana," he said, his voice rough with fatigue.
I just stared at him.
"It was an accident," he said.
He wasn't apologizing. He was explaining.
"Leo was scared. I reacted. I didn't mean for you to fall."
"I didn't fall, Emilio. You pushed me."
He flinched visibly.
"I will make it up to you," he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "We can try again. When you're healed."
Healed.
As if this were simply a broken bone.
He checked his watch.
"Who is he?" I asked. My voice was raspy, foreign to my own ears.
"Nobody," Emilio said quickly. Too quickly. "Just... a mistake from the past. I'm handling it."
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
His face softened.
I knew that look.
It was the look he used to give me when we were dating.
"I have to take this," he said. "Family business."
"I am your family," I whispered.
He didn't hear me. He was already walking out the door.
He left me alone in the silence.
I didn't cry.
I think I had bled all my emotions out on the casino floor.
An hour later, Ayla came in.
Ayla Guy was the only person in this criminal world I trusted.
She was carrying a massive vase of red roses.
"From him," she said, her lip curling in disgust. "And some herbal soup his mother sent."
"Take them away," I said.
"The soup?"
"The flowers. Throw them in the trash."
Ayla smiled. It was a grim, sharp smile.
She dumped the expensive bouquet into the waste bin with a satisfying thud.
"Good girl," she said.
I looked out the window.
The sun was shining. It felt insulting.
"He's with her, isn't he?" I asked.
Ayla didn't lie to me.
"He installed them in the penthouse downtown. The one you decorated last year."
I closed my eyes.
The penthouse.
I had picked out the curtains. I had chosen the crib for the nursery we were supposed to use.
Now, his bastard son was sleeping in it.
I started to plan.
Not for revenge. Not yet.
Just for survival.
Emilio came back the next day.
He tried to touch my shoulder.
I flinched away.
"Don't," I said.
"Elana, stop being dramatic," he sighed. "I said I was sorry about the baby."
"It wasn't a baby to you," I said. "It was just a potential heir. And you already have one, don't you?"
He stiffened.
"Leo is handled. He won't be a problem."
"He's wearing my grandmother's bracelet, Emilio."
"I bought him a new one. I'll get yours back."
"Keep it," I said. "It's tainted."
He looked at me like he didn't know me.
Maybe he didn't.
I was the perfect Mob Wife.
I smiled for the cameras. I ignored the lipstick on his collar. I designed his money-laundering fronts.
But the glass had cut deeper than skin.
It had cut the strings that made me his puppet.
"I want to go home," I said.
"Good," he nodded. "The estate is ready."
"No," I said. "Not the estate. The lake house."
"That's too far," he frowned. "I can't protect you there."
"You did a great job protecting me at the casino," I said flatly.
He clenched his jaw.
He didn't argue.
He walked out again.
He left his jacket on the chair.
I saw a drawing sticking out of the pocket.
It was a stick figure drawing of a man and a boy holding hands.
It was signed in shaky crayon: 'Leo'.
I stared at it until my vision blurred.
I didn't rip it up.
I just lay back on the pillows and waited for the darkness to take me.
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