Her Mafia Husband's Mistress

Chapter 9

There were only two people who could bring tears to my eyes; my child and godfather. My eyes glistened in tears at being called soft, after all, godfather's soft was being called weak. My neck straightened as I tried to stop it from shrinking, and straightened my shoulders.

Who said you could not find pride when you were being called weak by someone who has zero idea of your hurdles?

He had no idea of the thing I was going through; the pain, sorrow, despair, my loss.

His grew eyes a shadow of my own hold wisdom and courage something I secretly admire. "You are a Sokolov, and Sokolov are never soft" his gruff voice muttered softly.

My throat bobbed as I swallowed heavily.

"Things you should rid yourself of you should from the grassroots before they become weeds", he spunned me around before pulling me back into his arms.

" Would you learn your lesson when the child turns out to be a male; his heir", I knew that he was right, but for the love of all things dear I could not bring myself to bring harm to a child who had not even seen this world.

"Is it because of your child? My head snapped up to meet his scrutinizing gaze. Godfather's gaze became thoughtful.

"_you have grown sentimental", he tutted. His words life shot to my heart he did not know their gravity. Maybe, he did, godfather just didn't.

I felt a rising fury from the bottom of my stomach; it was boiling and it threatened to consume me and everything in my way whole.

" Your child's death should be an inspiration, Dalina", he spurned me away from him, and when I returned to his arms again, he led me away from the dance floor towards the bar. Godfather made sure I took a seat on the stool.

He bent so his mouth could rest beside my right ear and his breath like molten, burning my lobe "And since you could not make that choice, I made it for you", as if he was thinking about something, he added " How did you think you fell that night", he buttoned up his jacket and walked away.

My face fell; like all the venous supply to my face drained into my brain. I felt a rush of blood in my brain. It was like my brain shut down for a moment before kickstarting again.

I was lost; I could not comprehend what Godfather said, yet I could understand plenty. My head buzzed but my heart refused to believe what my head had comprehended.

No, she could not have been so cruel. As a mother-to-be, she would not have.

But, godfather had never been a liar. He never lied, in fact, his truthfulness irked me. I wish he had lied that he hadn't told me.

That night, that horrible night.

I sat on the stool absentminded. My heart hurt, to breathing became difficult; I could feel the air passing through my nostrils and my hand automatically found my chest.

My chest heaved heavily.

My head turned in the direction of the dancefloor, looking for something I had no idea of. Maybe I was hoping Godfather would shake his head and tell me it was a lie, that he was joking.

Godfather never joked.

Jokes on me, there stood the reason for my dilemma twirling my mother in his protective arms, his gaze gentle.

My hand clenched against the surface of the bar. " Vodka has been ordered" the bartender placed a glass in front of me.

Godfather had even ordered me a drink.

I looked up at him, my eyes daring him to say another word. He muttered an apology before getting back to work. Grabbing the glass, I twirled it and my mind worked itself.

The image of my bloodied battered self flashed in my mind, so vivid that I could still smell the stench of the blood I lost, that my child lost. The wrenching pain in my heart overwhelmed the one I felt as my child left my uterus; it was as if my soul was forcefully pulled out of me. I knew it was gone before I even got to the hospital. I was like a star that had lost its way from its planet. I lost my world; my purpose.

My grip tightened on the glass of vodka.

I was tired, exhausted. These people have used and wrung me, I have no substance left to offer, yet they still kept testing my limit.

The picture of Caralina in a glittering gown flashed in my mind and I could not control the surge of fury that threatened to consume me.

After what she had put me through, she could still laugh. Was she able to sleep at night knowing what she did?

Was she able to close her eyes after seeing that bloodied scene? She was ruthless, and I need not be merciful to such a person.

Was Lovetta in on it, had she backed her? Did Marcello know that the killer of our child, his first child was carrying his bastard?

Did he know that he had slept with the murderer of my child?

I would kill them all, and I shall have no regret.

I walked towards the entrance of the ballroom with a task in hand; finding Caralina.

The look on my face must have kept the guests away from me as nobody approached me on my way out.

I had never really felt the weight of any weapon on my body, but this time the weight of the pistol in the thigh holster and the switchblade strapped on the other thigh promised bloodshed.

I was tired of being poked and prodded.

Recollecting that Marcello had said he would have his men handle her, she should be in her room or somewhere around the building.

I walked along the familiar walls of the building, I have lost count of how many times I had. Some places I've been, some I never bother myself with, Caralina's room was one of them and that did not mean I did not know where it was. Ironically, I knew what she was like, her likes and dislikes, yet I missed the most important aspect. She had killed my child.

I had braced myself knowing I would encounter some bodyguards around, but as I got to the entrance I met the guards strewn across the rugged floor. The rugged floor, a considerate action of Marcello after which Caralina tripped and almost fell.

The same action he took when I was pregnant; he had the stairs covered with a rug.

All of his considerate actions towards me now seemed worthless, they carried no weight.

I crossed a few of the guards and stepped into the room.

My brows furrowed slightly at the scene before me; there stood Caralina with tears streaming down her porcelain cheek, her hands clutching her stomach, and in front of her was a man holding a pistol with his back towards me.

They had not noticed me, but the man's back looked like that of someone I could never mistake for another.

Pedrov's, by Pedro

Godfather had said he would handle the matter on my behalf.

So this was the matter.

My headache and irritation rose in my chest.

So he meant he had someone handle Caralina and her child. My back straightened in anticipation.

I wished he hadn't told me, that he had handled it before informing me.

Godfather had chosen perfect timing and it would be naive of Marcello to have left his pregnant mistress unprotected and I knew he wasn't a naive person.

Something clicked in my mind as if putting a puzzle in place.

Mother had asked of Pedrov and godfather said he was out running errands.

I should have known.

I had lost focus, I did not even know when it happened.

Godfather made this choice for me, and he did not have the courtesy of informing me. I could not help but feel the sting of betrayal.

Maybe I just needed to close my eyes to what was happening; pretend I had no idea of it.

I could turn away; pretend it was not happening.

After all, Caralina and her child would be gone and Marcello would get over it just like he did with our child.

But would he? Would he get over it or would he not consider that I was his wife and haunted me down?

According to the rule put in place to protect women in the mafia, the wife could kill her husband's mistress, pregnant or not.

Marcello had high expectations of the child, would he really let me off?

I could leave before he discovers, but for how long would I be on the run?

Plus, I was the best assassin, I would have a couple of years before he found me, would he have gotten over it before he did?

Maybe our marriage would come to destruction, but there was nothing much left of it anyway. No, trust, commitment, or expectations.