Rebirth: The Contract Wife Of The Mafia Heir

The dinner rush had finally come to an end. Francesca Rossi leaned against the kitchen counter and let out a tired sigh as the last customer walked out of the restaurant. "My feet are going to sue me one day," she muttered. One of the chefs chuckled while wiping down the stove. "You've been saying that for months." "And one day it'll happen," Francesca replied with a smile. Despite the joke, exhaustion weighed heavily on her body. She had been awake since before sunrise. Restaurant in the morning. Coffee shop in the afternoon. Convenience store at night. Three jobs. Every single day. Yet somehow... she was still smiling. "Francesca." She immediately straightened when she heard the familiar voice. Mrs. Morgana, the elderly owner of the restaurant, walked toward her carrying a white envelope. "You worked overtime again." Francesca scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. "There were more customers than usual." "There always are." Mrs. Morgana shook her head before placing the envelope into Francesca's hands. "Here." Francesca carefully opened it. Her eyes widened. "One thousand euros?" Mrs. Morgana smiled warmly. "I added a little extra." "You didn't have to." "I wanted to." The wrinkles around the older woman's eyes deepened as she smiled. "You've been working yourself to the bone." Francesca laughed awkwardly. "I'm fine." "No, you're not." Mrs. Morgana gently brushed a few loose strands of frizzy brown hair away from Francesca's forehead. "You've lost weight." "I'll eat when I get home." "You always say that." For a moment, Mrs. Morgana hesitated before asking softly, "Who are you working so hard for, child?" At once, Francesca's exhausted face brightened. "Carlos." A smile spread across her lips. "He finally got accepted into Rowland College." Mrs. Morgana frowned. "The Ivy League university?" Francesca nodded excitedly. "It's been his dream ever since we started dating." "And yours?" The smile on Francesca's face slowly faded. "...Mine doesn't matter." Silence settled between them. Mrs. Morgana knew the truth. Everyone who worked at the restaurant did. Francesca had once earned a full university scholarship. She had thrown it away without hesitation so her boyfriend could chase his dream instead. Now she worked three exhausting jobs just to pay his tuition. Mrs. Morgana wanted to tell her she deserved better. She wanted to tell her this wasn't love. But she knew Francesca wouldn't listen. Love had made the girl blind. "Go home," Mrs. Morgana finally said. "And buy yourself something nice for once." Francesca laughed and lifted the envelope. "I already did." Mrs. Morgana sighed. "Goodnight, child." "Goodnight, Mrs. Morgana." Outside, the cold evening breeze greeted her. Francesca climbed onto her old motorcycle. The engine coughed violently before releasing a thick cloud of black smoke. An elderly man walking past stopped to stare. "I think your motorcycle is about to die." Francesca patted the handlebars affectionately. "Not today." The motorcycle sputtered once... then somehow came back to life. "There we go," she laughed. "I knew you still loved me." The old man blinked. "...You're talking to your motorcycle." "It listens better than people." Before he could respond, she sped away. Almost forty minutes later, Francesca arrived at her apartment building. The building looked as though it had survived several earthquakes. Cracks ran across the walls. The paint had peeled away years ago. Several windows were boarded up. She parked her motorcycle outside. The poor machine let out one final groan before falling silent. "Don't give up yet," she whispered, patting it again. "I still need you." She hurried inside. Just as expected... the elevator was still broken. She sighed. "The landlord really has no shame." There was no choice. She climbed all five flights of stairs. By the time she reached the top floor, her legs felt like jelly. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and smiled. One more month. If she kept working this hard, Carlos wouldn't have to worry about tuition anymore. That thought alone filled her with enough happiness to forget her aching body. She unlocked the apartment door. The moment she stepped inside, a horrible smell hit her. Mold. Spoiled food. Stale air. She wrinkled her nose. "Carlos?" No answer. She looked around. Dirty dishes overflowed from the sink. Pizza boxes covered the coffee table. Empty snack bags littered the floor. Clothes were scattered everywhere. She sighed softly. "He must have been studying all day." She carefully placed the envelope containing her paycheck on the kitchen counter. "I'll clean up before showing him." She rolled up her sleeves. Just as she reached for the dishes... she heard a faint sound coming from the bedroom. She paused. Probably another one of his video games. She ignored it. Until she noticed a pair of women's high heels lying in the hallway. Her smile disappeared. Those weren't hers. She took another slow step. A silk skirt lay on the floor. Designer brand. Definitely not hers. Another step. A woman's blouse. The faint scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air. Her heartbeat quickened. "No..." She continued walking. Then she saw it. A silver bracelet decorated with tiny sunflower charms. Her knees nearly buckled. She knew that bracelet. She had made it herself. For only one person. Sofia. Her best friend. "No..." Her breathing became uneven. Please... Please let there be another explanation. Please. Tears blurred her vision as she reached the bedroom door. Her trembling fingers rested on the doorknob. She couldn't bring herself to open it. But she had to know. With one swift movement... she pushed the door open. Everything went silent. Carlos looked up first. He was shirtless. Beside him, Sofia hurriedly pulled the blanket over herself. Neither of them looked surprised. For several long seconds... Francesca couldn't breathe. The envelope slipped from her trembling fingers and landed softly on the floor. Carlos glanced at it before looking back at her. "Oh." His expression remained calm. "You're home." Francesca stared at the two people she trusted most. Her boyfriend. Her best friend. Together. In her bed. At that moment... the world she had spent years building shattered into a thousand pieces.