THE MAFIA'S HEIR

CHAPTER 2

I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. My heart raced as I stumbled backward, my back pressed against the wall for support. This was not happening, not to me, not to us. Michael couldn’t possibly do this to me.

“Oh God, no. This can’t be real,” I whispered, struggling to catch my breath as dizziness washed over me.

I fought every instinct to turn away, but the anger inside me grew stronger. I had walked in on a scene that I never imagined I would see—Michael, my Michael, lost in a moment of passion with someone else, his hands busy in ways I’d rather not think about.

In that instant, I felt the floodgates open, unleashing a torrent of emotions. I bolted out of the building, my heart pounding as I ran into the heavy rain that had started pouring down. Each drop felt like a weight added to my already drained body as my mind raced with disbelief and betrayal.

As I reached the street, a taxi pulled to my side. Without hesitating, I hopped in, gasping for air as I gave the driver the address for Hospital Block Road 5, focusing on anything but the dreaded images of Michael and that other person.

“You must be in shock, dear. Where are you heading?” the driver asked, his voice sympathetic yet distracted.

“Just drive,” I muttered, my heart still racing, feeling the tears threaten to spill as I replayed the scene in my mind.

What had I done to deserve this? Hadn’t I been nothing but faithful? I had never looked at another guy since I met Michael; I devoted myself entirely to him. He always told me he loved me, promised he would marry me. Now, his actions screamed otherwise, clawing at my heart with every thought. What had gone wrong? Why couldn’t he just call me instead of flirting with some stranger? The betrayal stung deeper than I could have ever imagined.

As I sat, lost in my thoughts, the driver handed me a tissue. “Have this,” he said with a kindness that made me feel even more vulnerable.

“Thank you,” I managed, wiping my face as more tears flowed. I couldn’t stop the sobs wracking my body.

When I finally arrived at the hospital, I jumped out of the cab, barely bothering to thank the driver as I rushed toward the entrance. I was shivering, lost in a whirlwind of emotions—grief, anger, disbelief—and I could not afford to have any of them show when I go to see mom.

“Hey!”

I paused mid-stride, turning to see the taxi driver leaning out of his window. He looked younger than I had initially thought, his face was friendly, not like someone who had seen me at my worst.

“I may not know you, but I can tell you this: no matter who he is, he doesn’t deserve you. You’ve cried enough already, okay?” He offered a warm smile, his words a kind gift during this storm of sorrow.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice cracking as I turned around and rushed into the hospital, feeling more lost than ever. He zoomed off, leaving me to grapple with the mess that had been left in my mind and heart.

As I entered the place I wish I could find some comfort, I was greeted with the sterile Sense of panic. I couldn’t shake off the image of Michael. Was the person I had loved for so long just a façade? If he had been lying all those years, who was he really?

“God, Mom's still at the hospital.” The thought struck me sharply. I couldn’t let her see me like this.

I put my key into the lock of our home, but it turned without resistance. Had Ariana come home early or was it Jason?

I stepped inside to see Dad slumped on the couch, looking weary. “Hey, Dad, I thought you said you were not coming home today?” I ventured cautiously, the tension thick between us.

He pulled me into an embrace—a gesture that felt foreign. For a moment, I wondered if something bad had happened to him, but then I quickly discarded that thought. I didn’t have the bandwidth to entertain yet another disaster right now.

“Rosalla, the hospital called me,” he said, pulling back to study me closely. “I was on my way back already. Your mom's awake, but that’s not the main issue.”

What more could there be? My heart sank deeper. “Dad, I need a change, please!” I blurted out, wishing he would just lighten this load for me.

At least he had made it to Mom—that was something, even if our relationship was still strained. It seemed like he was still wrapped in his love for his wife, he couldn’t possibly understand what calamity had just struck me.

“Rosa, the bath can wait,” he said slowly, loosening his tie as if his next words would bind him and me into an inescapable reality. “You’ll have to listen to me.”

I braced myself, knowing that I didn’t have the strength to hear any more bad news, but there was no escape from his words.

“Okay? I’m all ears, Dad,” I said, sitting across from him, feeling a mix of apprehension and dread.

“I know I should’ve told you this earlier, but you need to understand I had no other choice,” he started, clearing his throat.

“Rosa, you’re getting married.”

“What?” My voice was laced with a mix of disbelief and anger as I stood up quickly. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Look, I’m sorry, Rosalla. I can explain.” His face was filled with something akin to regret, but it did nothing to ease the storm brewing within me.

This was a joke, right? I chuckled humorlessly, thinking maybe I’d wake up from this nightmare soon. I turned to head upstairs, tears already streaming down my face as I fought against the emotions swelling within me.

“Rosa, you’ve got to say something,” he called after me, but his pleading felt like a mockery in light of everything that was going on.

“What do you want me to say to a bad joke, Dad? I’m not the one you’re talking about. Even if you don’t want me in your house anymore, there are better ways to push me out.” My bitterness dripped from every word, and I felt empowered by my anger, if only for a moment.

I turned to leave again, but the weight of his words anchored me in place. “Rosa, he’s on his way. I couldn’t say no to him—he’s not just anyone.”

My legs felt numb, collapsing under the staggering blow of his words. I leaned against the wall for support, feeling as if the world were spinning around me. This couldn’t be true. More distress upon distress—how could he even think about marriage while my mother lay in a hospital bed?

I shook my head in disbelief, tears still falling. “Dad, this is too much,” I murmured, voice trembling. “I can’t handle this right now. Not today.”

As my heart unravelled in a confounding mix of betrayal, sadness, and anger, all I could think was—it had to get better, it just had to.