Mafia Lords: On Their Knees Begging For Her Forgiveness

Chapter Five

I stared out at the streets of New York, bursting with fast-paced energy and night lights that made it seem like midday, through the bulletproof black SUV window. Luca was driving, with Marco seated beside him.

Angelo was asleep in my lap while I was questioning my decision to return to this place—the one that brought back memories of that cursed day. Was it a good decision? Or was it a mistake that would reopen wounds I’ve been trying to forget?

My gaze shifted from the window and locked with Luca’s eyes in the rearview mirror. A shiver ran down my spine, and butterflies erupted in my stomach. How could he still affect me the way he always did?

I quickly looked away this time, pretending to be bored. I wasn’t going to let my stupid heart fall again.

I heard a scoffing laugh —but dry— from Luca at my reaction.

Security vehicles surrounded us from the front and back. Why all this tight protection? I remember Papa Gerald always insisting on such measures every time I went out, but I never knew why they were so necessary.

As soon as we entered the street leading to the Hayden estate, my heart began to pound fiercely. I hadn’t realized how much I missed this place until we passed through the massive bronze gates.

“I won’t cry, I won’t cry, I won’t cry…” I kept repeating to myself to avoid breaking down. This was my childhood home. The place where I lived the best years of my life—and the worst moment of it too.

I opened the car door and was about to carry Angelo in my arms—he was sleeping deeply—when Luca said in his deep but dry tone, “I’ll carry him for you.”

I didn’t want him near me or my son—not even an inch—but my legs felt like jelly, unable to hold me, let alone carry Angelo.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as I walked toward the mansion's main door, with Luca on my right carrying Angelo, and Marco on my left, who hadn’t uttered a word since we got into the car after landing from the private jet.

I paused for a few seconds to take in the sight of the grand door.

I lifted my head high and stepped through the door I was once thrown out of. Everything was exactly the same—the antiques, the luxurious furniture, the grand crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. And the scent… that unique scent of this mansion… a mix of comforting safety and blood. Opposites.

Luca glanced sideways at the maid who was dusting furniture, and she disappeared instantly.

“Welcome home,” Marco whispered, so softly I wasn’t even sure he had said it. But I replied anyway, “It was never and never will be my home.”

“Mila! You’re finally here!” Mama Marcellia called out warmly, rushing toward me with a wide smile.

“I’ve missed you so much, my sweet daughter,” she added as she wrapped her arms around me with a tender embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks. I hugged her back, but I quickly wiped away a tear that escaped my eye before anyone could notice.

I wasn’t here for feelings. I came for secrets. Secrets that haunted me for the past four years. I still remember Papa Gerald’s words: “Get out of my house. You look like her. She had born her monster before she died!”

A large hand pulled me away from Mama Marcellia’s arms before I suddenly found myself lifted into the air by Ricardo.

“I miss you so much!” he shouted excitedly.

I laughed despite myself. “Put me down, you crazy man!”

The moment my feet touched the ground, my eyes met Luca’s cold black gaze. He walked over to the couch and gently laid Angelo down next to a girl I hadn’t noticed until now. She stood up and hugged Luca the moment he straightened up.

She was very tall, with fiery red hair, marble-like skin, and a red dress that barely covered her perfectly sculpted body.

It was obvious there was something between them. Could she be his girlfriend? Or worse… his wife?

I turned my eyes away and reminded myself that I was only here for one goal, and then I’d return to my normal life. So I asked immediately, “Where is Papa Gerald?”

“Here,” came Aunt Miranda’s cold voice.

I turned to find her pushing a wheelchair. And in it… was Papa Gerald.

My eyes widened in shock—he was now paralyzed?

I froze, emotions storming inside me. I never thought I’d see the strong, feared man look like this. He looked ten years older instead of just four. Fragile.

When his wheelchair stopped in front of me, I whispered, “Papa…”

He smiled softly and said, “Mila.”

I didn’t run into his arms. He didn’t ask me to. His eyes held nothing but disappointment. I could feel it. That same look from that night was still in his eyes.

He was still blaming me!

So why did he call me back?

I looked up at Aunt Miranda, who extended her hand coldly. “Hello, Mila. It’s good to see you.”

Now things were clearer. Only Mama Marcellia and Ricardo welcomed me. The rest…

Why am I even here?

I silently questioned their faces.

The silence broke when Marco took Papa Gerald’s wheelchair and said, “Let’s go to Father’s study.”

Without a word, I followed them, asking Mama Marcellia to keep an eye on Angelo if he woke up.

Papa Gerald was seated behind his luxurious mahogany desk. Behind him, two pistols and three bullets were mounted on the wall. I’d never asked about them before, but now I wondered—what were those bullets used for? They must mean something significant for him to keep them on display like that.

“It’s been a long time, Mila,” he said between soft coughs.

Our eyes met for a moment before I smiled bitterly and replied, “Yes. It really has.”

In the office were me, Marco, and Ricardo. Luca stayed outside with that girl.

A glass of red wine glimmered before me. I looked up to see Marco offering it with a strange look in his eyes. Odd. They never even let me taste it before.

I raised an eyebrow, crossed my arms, and said, “I don’t drink.”

The only time I did it was the night I was assaulted. Never again.

Marco took the glass away and raised his brows. “Good.”

The door opened, and Luca walked in—with her. The one who hugged him earlier.

I knew the expression on my face didn’t match what was in my heart. Life abroad and the pain of solitude had taught me not to be an open book as I was before.

Papa Gerald began, “I believe you two haven’t met. This is Louisiana Castellano, Luca’s fiancée. Louisiana, this is Mila Rossetti.” Then he looked at me and added, “My daughter.”

I scoffed. That word—daughter—had no meaning anymore. He never changed my name to his or officially adopted me. He just took care of me.

But, as always, Papa Gerald ignored my emotions and continued, “In the past two years, we’ve been under attack. Massive betrayals from families inside La Cosa Nostra, trying to take the Haydens down. There were two assassination attempts on me and four on Luca. Thank God we all survived.”

My heart clenched at the thought of anyone getting hurt. I looked straight at Luca, who stared at me from head to toe like I was the one who tried to kill him. Why did he hate me so much?

With a tone laced with pain, Papa Gerald added, “Do you remember that night four years ago?”

I looked away. I didn’t want to hear it. But he went on anyway.

“Luca was drugged and lured into having s*x with a girl infected with AIDS to get him to sign some documents. If you hadn’t… that night, maybe we could’ve saved him.”

My mouth dropped open. “So… Luca has AIDS now? But you said—”

“No. I am not infected. Although I don’t remember what happened exactly that night, I’m sure if you hadn’t betrayed us, my father and brothers could’ve uncovered the plan before I even arrived that night. But they were too busy searching the entire city for you. Not knowing you’d decided to become someone’s w***e!”

Oh, now he's blaming me for him f*****g some diseased slut!

Instinctively—with so much hatred—I grabbed the glass of water in front of me and threw it in his face. “You bastard!”

He didn’t even flinch. He turned to his fiancée and said coldly, “Why don’t you wait in the lounge with my mother?” Like an obedient dog, she left immediately.

I scoffed, “Classic mafia wife.”

He shot me a deadly glare and spat, “Better than a filthy whore.”

Marco grabbed Luca by the collar and shoved him against the wall. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Enough!” Papa Gerald yelled.

I looked at all of them and shouted, “Why am I here? To insult me? Great, bravo! You succeeded. Can I go now? I’m disgusted by this filthy mafia life. I have a normal life with my son and I want to live far from your filth.”

Ricardo stepped forward. “No one wants to insult you, Mila. Please, just listen to what Father has to say.”

“I hate you deeply, Mila Rossetti,” Luca muttered, his tone laced with pure hatred that mirrored in his piercing eyes, as he leaned on the wall and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

I won’t lie—that stung. But I ignored him and told Papa Gerald, “Let’s not pretend we’re family. I am not your daughter. You only took care of me because of your loyalty to your friend. But now I’m a grown woman, and I don’t need your protection, okay.”

I stood up and headed toward the door to leave when he said, “Your engagement to Lorenzo Castellano—Louisiana’s brother—will take place in two days. And you will never return to Italy again.”