In The Mafia's Heart

Episode 4

RICHARD'S POV

I lived two lives, carefully separated, never overlapping. By day, I wore tailored suits, shook hands in boardrooms, and played the role of the dutiful son, the acting CEO of my father’s empire. By night, I commanded shadows, a silent hand pulling strings where the world wasn’t meant to look.

And in both lives, I valued one thing above all else; control.

She was always in her room. Always. Like a flower hidden from sunlight. Even after the wedding, she never asked about my business, never demanded anything of me, never even wandered past the corridor unless summoned. It suited me. An arrangement. Her fragility was her own cocoon, and I gave her distance.

But tonight… her silence felt different. Hollow.

Something in my gut told me to check.

I pushed the door open without knocking. Empty. The bed, untouched. Curtains drawn. The air faintly perfumed with her scent, but she was gone.

My chest tightened, sharp and immediate. Zoe never left her room. Not without someone noticing.

I turned sharply and barked, “Where is she?”

My men, posted at the end of the corridor, looked at each other, startled. One of them stammered, “Boss, we… we don’t know. No one’s seen her leave.”

Lies? Or incompetence? Either way, I didn’t like it.

I strode down the grand staircase, every step echoing against the marble. The thought struck me then, I didn’t even have her number. My wife. My so-called partner. And yet, I had never needed it. She was always here. Always still. Like part of the furniture I didn’t expect to move.

But now, she is gone.

The world I lived in was crawling with enemies. Rivals who would slit my throat if they could. Police who would break down my doors if they ever guessed the truth. And if anyone knew Zoe was out there, alone, without my protection.

No. I wouldn’t allow it.

I pulled my phone out, scrolling through my contacts. Nothing. No “Zoe.” No number. The realization burned, strange and unfamiliar, like shame.

I was about to order a car, to tear through the streets until I found her, when the sound of an engine drew my attention. Headlights swept across the driveway. A familiar car rolled in through the gates.

She stepped out slowly, her figure framed in the glow.

Zoe.

But something was wrong. Her steps were shaky, her face pale, her eyes clouded as though she had walked through a storm no one else could see. She looked… broken. Confused.

I froze at the sight. Relief surged through me, quick and fierce, but I buried it before it could touch my face. My men moved forward instinctively, but I raised a hand, cutting them off.

“I’ll handle this,” I said, my tone cold.

As she reached the steps, I caught the faint tremble in her hands. She looked fragile, almost too fragile to stand. I kept my expression unreadable, though inside my chest, questions clawed at me.

“Next time,” I said evenly, “if you plan to leave this house, do well to leave a note. Or tell someone. Don’t disappear into thin air.” My voice was calm, but it carried steel. “Better alone than missing to God knows where.”

She froze, her eyes flickering up to mine. For a second, there was a strange emotion there, something I couldn’t name. Guilt? Fear? Confusion? It unsettled me.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and held it out to her. “Your number.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, as though the request puzzled her. Then, hesitantly, she took the phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she typed a sequence and handed it back.

I pressed the call button. A shrill tone filled the air until her phone rang inside her purse. I gave a curt nod. “Save my number,” I said.

She nodded faintly, though her eyes lingered on me with that same strange question, like she was trying to read something I wasn’t saying.

I turned sharply and headed back inside before the silence between us could twist into something else. My footsteps carried me down the hall and up the next flight, toward the privacy of my study.

But her face stayed in my mind.

Something was different.

She had always been delicate, yes, but tonight… She looked like someone who had seen a ghost. Her silence was not the silence of retreat. It was the silence of secrets.

Ever since I came back from my last trip, she has seemed… changed. Subtly. Like a stranger learning to fit into familiar skin. She moved differently. Looked at me differently. Reacted to things she had once ignored.

Even tonight, she didn’t argue, didn’t explain, didn’t attempt to soothe me as she used to when my temper flared. Instead, she just looked at me with those eyes. Eyes that unsettled me in ways I couldn’t afford.

And yet…

There was something else. Something attractive about this new Zoe. Something alive.

I leaned against the door of my private study, phone still warm in my hand, and exhaled slowly.

The world I lived in didn’t forgive secrets. Didn’t forgive lies. If Zoe was hiding something from me… if this was more than just stress or fragility…

I would find out.

I always did.