My Petite Vengeful Wife

Chapter 8. Ghost from the Past

Helen

After two weeks in Switzerland, we finally return home. Everything is going as expected, I just hope now that when we return, my i***t son doesn't ruin things further, because if he does then I do plan to disinherit him and give him a good talking-to.

"So, is she really coming back with us?" my husband asks, still doesn't trust me. The poor man has suffered these past two weeks, but it's his fault for lying to me about what happened to my goddaughter in that marriage, that silly fight between my younger son and my older son over Iris, hiding from me which country my girl was in, supposedly to protect me because I'm sick, that I couldn’t handle the stress. Nonsense.

This old liar has many debts.

"Yes, she will. I told you my plan would work," I say confidently. "And my clothes need to be folded properly," I say sharply, when I see my clothes being left in chaos in our suitcase.

Michael gives me an embarrassed look and takes out the garment to fold it again. Well, that's his lot, to suffer and do everything alone.

"We should never have left her in the dark with that clause. We did things wrong from the start, Michael," it still breaks my heart to think of my goddaughter is suffering. The good thing is she wasn't completely alone. Her friend Agatha, without a doubt, is that spark my girl needed to gradually overcome those terrible breakups she's been through in her life.

"Michael will go crazy." Yes, and I can already imagine my son angry, falling in love at Iris's feet, all over again.

"He will, but now we won't let him hurt her. Besides, it's the only way we have to get close to him. We'll lose him completely if we don't try." I say, thinking about my son is a real pain, a mix of liver pain and stomach ache, more than the pain of my cancer.

"I'm worried that woman is still by his side as if like nothing happened. I'm worried that Iris will give up on this revenge plan and leave again. I don't know if Kostas can stand being away from her any longer."

"Don't even mention that decrepit old man to me. He deserves to be alone and depressed. He had so many years to come for her and didn't. Let him endure it or fight for her. Now, my goddaughter will take care of that woman. There's nothing stronger than a woman who wants revenge," I smile satisfied, remembering my goddaughter's strength.

She was always strong, but the broken heart my son left her, her mother's death, and her father's abandonment only hardened her. They forced her to build a shell of coldness to defend herself from the world, and that same shell will help her face her past.

"Revenge on your son? Aren't you afraid that everything will get out of hand and she'll end up hurt, or both will come out badly?" he asks me with concern.

"I'm also worried about the resentment she carries in her heart. But she has to let it out to move forward, Michael, and my son is to blame, so he'll have to face the consequences. Of course, that's why we'll be there, close by, to prevent them from killing each other," I say amused.

"I don't think you're realizing how dangerous that resentment is. I saw it in her eyes, Helen. Iris has a lot of pain and hatred. That emotion can be self-destructive, and about our son. The boy deserves a stern talking-to, I know perfectly well, but I'm worried he'll also explode and everything will turn into chaos that none of them can escape," he says while taking my hand and sitting next to me.

"I know. I've thought about it. I just... I hope they'll be mature enough to resolve things out. Besides, there's only a step from hate to love," I sigh.

"So that's your real plan, to bring them back together again," he looks at me suspiciously.

"Didn't you guess it out before?" I ask innocently.

"Oh, my Helen! I already knew that supporting Iris's return and that revenge against your offspring wasn't entirely true. I just hope Iris doesn't find out because if she does, you'll lose her, and this time for good," his comment makes me a little uneasy.

"No, everything will be fine. My son will fall in love with her again, he'll grovel to ask for her forgiveness, and she'll accept it. They'll be happy." I repeat to myself mentally.

***

Iris

"You're right, the cold in our country is better than here," says Agatha as she walks towards the car waiting for us at the Harris's estate private hangar at Midway International Airport, southwest of the city of Chicago.

"Hurry up, Iris. Hans is waiting for us at the best club in the city to celebrate your return."

"A party?" I say worried because I know that implies my crazy friend wanting to force me to wear one of her famous dresses, drink, and come back home very late, including my friend's toxic fights or conquests.

"It won't be as bad as you're imagining. They say this place is magnificent and it'll only be for a while because Hans and I are seeing my new boss at the hospital tomorrow and you, you have to return to your marital home," she says nonchalantly.

Well, I didn't want to think about any of that. A drink would do me good.

Hours later, after a makeover, tight clothes, makeup, and my usual bitterness, we arrive at the famous Club. The Underground Chicago. It sounds familiar, but I can't remember exactly why.

The atmosphere is good, and my first drink is even better. Little by little, I start to loosen up and let myself go with the rhythm of the music, the alcohol, the lights of the place, and my friends on the dance floor.

***

Michael

For the second Friday in a row, I'm dealing with Peter Massino's son, Joe, an alcoholic, immature brat who always gets into trouble and loves to party.

Why am I still here? His father is my client. The Italian-American mafia in Chicago that he leads are the clients who pay my firm the best. Part of that payment includes putting up with the stupid heir of the mafia.

I get up from my seat to avoid watching stupid Joe flirting with that group of women. It's too uncomfortable sharing space with this kid's usual nonsense.

Without thinking much, I approach the railing of the Club's private box to scan the place. It's always the same, similar people without much interest, the same music, the same cheap flirting strategy among the women who only look up to "hunt" some rich guy who comes to these places.

I calmly sip my whiskey to endure the boredom and disinterest in this place, which I can't stop observing until... my eyes land on the well-proportioned figure of a woman with black hair... like hers.

I close my eyes to avoid thinking about the person who vanished from my life on that tumultuous night.

I open them, and my glass drops to the floor when I see the woman who caught my attention resembles her, that ghost from my past.

"No, it can't be he," I say, completely surprised and with my heart racing.

Without another thought, I dash towards the Club's dance floor, towards her.

Towards that woman who looks like my wife.