Why does the Mafia want me so bad?

1: She’s Back

Don't piss me off, Esmeralda. I've got a short temper," Carlos barked at me. His voice echoed through the room. Who the hell did he think he was? How dare he refuse to sign the divorce papers?

This is what he wanted in the first place, so why was he so stubborn about it now? He seemed pissed for no reason.

“We both know there’s no love between us, Carlos. None at all. We’re from two completely different worlds,” I said, already feeling the frustration bubbling inside me.

He didn’t respond, just glared at me like I was wasting his time.

“The only reason you married me was because I was carrying your child. But that’s over now,” I continued, my voice rising slightly. “I miscarried, Carlos. I lost the baby. I want out of this loveless union.”

I felt the sting of those words as they left my mouth, the memory of losing my baby flashing in my mind. It still hurt. The pain of that day—of bleeding, of crying, of being alone—was something I would never forget. And where was Carlos during all of it? Not with me. No, he had claimed he had a meeting with the other Mafia dons. That was more important to him.

Yes, my husband is a Mafia lord. Carlos Corleone, feared by many, respected by others, and hated by me.

But our marriage? It was a secret. Nobody knew I was his wife—not his enemies, not his allies. Only his family and mine knew about us. His family, The Corleone clan, hated me anyway. They had made that clear from the start. So really, this divorce should have been a win-win for everyone.

Yet here he was, refusing to sign the papers, sitting there as if I wasn’t worth the time.

I watched him sip his cocktail slowly, avoiding my eyes like he wasn’t hearing a word I said. The silence only made me angrier.

His phone rang suddenly, breaking the tense atmosphere. He grabbed it and answered immediately, his tone calm.

“Stay there. I’ll be on my way to pick you up,” he said after listening for a moment. Then, without another word, he stood up and started heading for the door.

“Carlos,” I called out, my frustration reaching its peak. Was he seriously just going to leave in the middle of this conversation? We were discussing something important—our divorce—and he had the nerve to act like it didn’t matter?

But he didn’t stop. He kept walking toward the door, grabbing his coat.

“Carlos!” I called again, louder this time.

He finally stopped but didn’t turn to look at me. The rain was pouring heavily outside, the sound of thunder rumbling. Whatever he was rushing off to must have been serious, but that didn’t excuse his behavior. At the very least, he could have told me, We’ll continue this later, or something similar.

Instead, he turned halfway, his expression cold and unreadable. “Get inside,” he ordered, his voice low but firm.

Before I could say anything, he stepped into the rain, got into his car, and drove off into the storm, leaving me standing there at the doorway of the mansion.

I went back inside the mansion. I needed to end this marriage, this loveless union. I won’t deny it—I love Carlos. But what’s the point if he doesn’t love me back? Loving someone who doesn’t feel the same is a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

I grabbed my phone, hoping to distract myself. Scrolling through social media mindlessly, I stopped midway when a post caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat. It was from Giulia "Jules" Giordano—Carlos’s ex-girlfriend.

My hands trembled as I stared at the post. The caption read: Even in the middle of the rain, he came to pick me up. How romantic. Have yourself a good man.

Underneath the caption were photos. The first showed a man holding an umbrella for Giulia, shielding her from the rain. The second was a close-up of her smiling face as she leaned into him.

I zoomed in on the first photo, my heart pounding. That man under the umbrella was unmistakably Carlos. My husband.

This is where he went in the middle of the night. While I stood in the doorway begging him to finish our conversation, he was rushing off to pick her up from the airport.

I felt a lump in my throat, and my chest tightened as the memories came flooding back. The last time I saw Giulia was three years ago, right after Carlos and I got married. I remember her words clearly, like they were branded in my mind: “I’ll be back, Esmeralda. And when I return, I’ll take back what you stole from me.”

She wasn’t bluffing. She’s back now, and she’s making her move.

For three years, I’ve tried so hard to make Carlos love me. I’ve given him everything—my heart, my time, my patience. But it was never enough. I guess now that Giulia is back, it’s clear why. She was always the one he loved. Not me.

I stared at the screen until the photos blurred through my tears. I was done. If Carlos wanted Giulia, he could have her. Maybe now he’d finally sign the divorce papers.

The rain outside had finally stopped, but the air inside the mansion felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in on me. I needed fresh air, so I grabbed my coat and stepped outside.

The cool breeze felt nice against my skin as I strolled aimlessly through the estate grounds. My thoughts were all over the place, but at least the quietness of the night gave me some comfort.

But that peace didn’t last long.

I froze when I saw two black SUVs with tinted windows suddenly pull up, blocking my path. My pulse quickened. Something about this didn’t feel right.

Before I could react, the car doors swung open, and several men stepped out. They were huge, with muscles that looked like they could crush steel. Tattoos covered their arms and necks, symbols I recognized immediately.

My stomach dropped. These weren’t just random men—they were from a rival Mafia clan.

One of them, a man with a scar running down his cheek, pointed at me. “That’s her,” he said, his voice cold and certain.

Before I could process what was happening, they lunged at me.

“Wait—” I tried to yell, but it was too late. A heavy fist landed on my stomach and I was struggling to breathe. I crumpled to the ground. My vision blurred.