Page 28 of Mafia King of Lies

Tears well in her eyes. “We have been joined at the hip since you were born.” Her voice wavers. “But now, you are a wife. And soon, you will be a mother.”

A heavy silence falls between us. She doesn’t need to say what we’re both thinking. Antonio should have been here. We should be celebrating love, not mourning loss.

A knock at the door breaks the moment.

“Come in.”

My father steps inside, his face unreadable. The dark circles under his eyes speak louder than any words.

“We need to get to the tarmac,” he says. “Matteo has a tight schedule.”

I nod. “Of course.”

Without another word, he leaves. My mother exhales shakily.

“Papá and I…” She trails off, her lips pressing together. “This whole ordeal has been hard. We have never been at odds before.”

Guilt twists in my gut. “I’m sorry, Mamá. He’s trying to do what’s best for the family. For you.”

“It’s going to take me some time to come to terms with the fact that I’ll only see you during the holidays now—not whenever my heart aches for you.”

I nod, her words settling between us like a quiet weight. “We should go.”

The longer I stay, the harder it becomes. I need to walk away before the ache has a chance to take hold.

“Okay.”

The driveto the airport is steeped in silence. Tension thickens the air, a heavy weight pressing on my chest.

Matteo sits beside me in the back, his attention fixed on his phone, fingers moving swiftly over the screen. Every now and then, he flips through a file, his expression unreadable. He hasn’t looked at me once. Not in the car. Not since this morning.

What is he thinking?

I sneak a glance at him from the corner of my eye, searching for something—anything—that might reveal what goes on behind that face. His jaw is sharp, clenched, as if he’s grinding his teeth in concentration.

Is he already regretting this marriage?

Does he resent me as much as I resent him?

I barely know him, yet I am bound to him. Matteo Davacalli—the man whispered about in the mafia underworld, a figure as feared as he is respected. But what is he like beyond the reputation? As a man? As a husband?

I know nothing about him.

A part of me wonders what he was like with his first wife. Did he love her? Did he look at her with warmth, with care? Or was she just another obligation, just as I am?

The thought unsettles me, though I don’t know why.

The jet looms ahead, and reality crashes down with full force.

I’m leaving.

“Say your goodbyes.”

Matteo’s voice is calm, detached. The first words he’s spoken to me all morning. Then, without another glance, he strides toward the jet, his presence commanding even in silence.

I watch him for a moment—his calculated movements, the way he barely acknowledges me. A stranger. A ghost of a man I am meant to call my husband.

He doesn’t care.

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