I became the Mafia Bride

ChapterThree

Two days after my mom died, I went back to work.

I knew it was too soon. My sister had begged me to stay home, to take time, but I couldn’t afford to listen. The bills were already piling up, hospital charges, funeral home estimates, and debts I hadn’t known existed. I couldn’t afford to miss any more hours.

Everyone was kind.

That was the worst part.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“If you need anything…”

“Take care of yourself.”

They said the right things, their faces soft with sympathy, and then they moved on. Back to their desks, their projects, their lives.

I didn’t blame them. I wouldn’t have known what to say either.

I sat at my desk, staring at my computer screen, and felt completely alone in a room full of people.

I tried to work.

Opened emails. Read the same sentence multiple times without because I couldn't focus. Typed responses that didn’t even make sense and had to delete them.

My mother was gone.

The thought kept surfacing, cutting through everything else.

I checked my phone looking for updates from my sister, from the hospital. Part of me was hoping for some miracle and hoping it was just a bad dream, the other part knew she was gone.

I stood abruptly and headed towards the stairwell.

I sat down on the stairs, dropped my head into my hands, and tried to breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

It didn’t help.

The grief hit me all at once, a wave I couldn’t brace against. My chest tightened, my throat closed, and suddenly I was crying, ugly.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t sit at that desk and pretend to be fine. Couldn’t smile at coworkers and answer emails and act like my world hadn’t just collapsed.

But I didn’t have a choice.

The bills. My sister. The job I’d worked so hard for.

I had to hold it together.

Except I couldn’t.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they kept coming. My breathing was ragged and uneven, and I felt like I was drowning.

The door above me opened.

I froze, mortified, and looked up.

Cassius stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Sorry,” I choked out, scrambling to stand, to wipe my face. “I’m fine. I just needed a minute—”

“Sienna, right?”

His voice was quiet. Not pitying. Just… present.

I nodded, “I’m fine,” I repeated, but my voice cracked on the words.

He stepped into the stairwell, letting the door close behind him. For a moment, he just looked at me, not judging, not uncomfortable. Just seeing me.

Then he gestured toward the stairs. “Sit.”

“I should get back—”

“Sit.”

I looked at him gently and sat.

He didn’t sit next to me. Instead, he leaned against the railing a few feet away, giving me space but not leaving.

“You don’t have to be fine,” he said after a moment.

I laughed, bitter, broken. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a job. Bills. My sister. I can’t just—” My voice broke again. “I can’t fall apart.”

“You already are.”

The bluntness of it should have stung. Instead, it felt like permission.

I buried my face in my hands again, and this time I didn’t try to stop crying.

Cassius didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stayed, and somehow that made it easier to let go.

Eventually, the tears slowed. My breathing evened out. I felt wrung out, exhausted, but slightly less in panic mode.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be.”

I looked up at him. He was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read—something softer than I’d seen from him before.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I saw you leave. You looked…” He trailed off. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, clearly.”

Silence settled between us.

“Come on,” he said finally, pushing off the railing. “Let’s get you out of the stairwell.”

He led me to an empty conference room on the far side of the floor, one of the smaller ones, with frosted glass.

I sat in one of the chairs, staring at the table, while Cassius closed the door and leaned against it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”

“Huh?”

“At work, you shouldn’t be working at this moment”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Why not?”

I laughed again, sharper this time. “Because I can’t afford to be. The funeral alone costs more than I expected. The hospital bills—” I stopped, shook my head. “I need every hour. Every paycheck. I can’t take time off.”

Cassius was quiet for a long moment.

Then: “How much do you need?”

I looked up, confused. “What?”

“For the funeral. The bills. How much?”

“I’m not—” I stopped, realization dawned on me. “No. Cassius, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t take your money.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t even know you.”

His mouth curved slightly, not quite a smile. “Well, not yet but you will.”

I stared at him. “I can’t accept that. It’s too much.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Sienna.” He stepped closer, his expression serious now. “Let me help. Take the time you need. I’ll cover it.”

My throat tightened. “Why would you do that?”

He hesitated. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked uncertain.

“Because no one should have to choose between grieving and surviving,” he said finally. “And because… I know what it’s like. I lost my brother a few years ago. I didn’t get to take time either. I wish I had.”

The admission hung in the air between us.

“I can’t just accept that,” I said, but my voice was weaker now. “It’s thousands of dollars.”

“Then pay me back. Whenever you want. If you want. I don’t care.”

“You don’t even know if I will.”

“I trust you but again I don’t care.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Part of me wanted to refuse. Pride, maybe. Or fear of owing someone something I couldn’t repay.

I knew that I worked at a prestigious company now but I hadn’t accumulated enough money yet. I was only a few weeks into work and knew for certain my first paycheck wouldn’t even cover half the funeral costs.

But I was so tired.

And he was offering me something I desperately needed; time. Space to breathe. To grieve without the crushing weight of financial panic.

“I can’t,” I said, but the words came out weak. Unconvincing.

“You can.”

“Cassius—”

“Sienna.” He crouched down slightly, bringing himself to eye level with me. “Let someone help you. Just this once.”

My eyes burned with fresh tears. “Why?”

“Because you need it. And because I can.”

I looked at him, really looked at him. At the genuine concern in his eyes, and the patience in the way he waited for my answer.

“Okay,” I whispered finally. “Okay. But I’m paying you back.”

“If you want.”

“I will.”

“Alright.”

Relief and shame and gratitude all tangled together in my chest. I felt like I should say more, explain more, but I couldn’t find the words.

“Thank you,” I managed.

He nodded. “Take the rest of the week. Longer if you need it. I’ll talk to HR.”

“You can do that?”

A small smile. “I have some pull.”

I thought about the CEO’s hand on his arm, the easy familiarity. The way people gravitated toward him.

“Why?” I asked quietly. “Why do you have pull? Why does everyone treat you differently?”

He looked at me for a long moment, something unreadable crossing his face.

“That’s a longer conversation,” he said finally. “For another time.”

Now I knew it obviously had something to do with his family but his generosity made me more curious for some reason.

I wanted to push. To ask more questions.

But I was too exhausted.

“Thank you, Cassius,” I said instead.

“You’re welcome, Sienna.”

He straightened, moved toward the door, then paused.

“When’s the funeral?”

“It hasn’t been decided yet.”

He nodded slowly. “I want to be there. If that’s okay.”

I blinked, surprised. “You don’t have to”

“I know. But I’d like to. If you’re comfortable with that.”

I didn’t know what to say. Having him there felt… intimate.

But I also didn’t want to be alone. Or rather, I didn’t want my sister to only have me.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”

He gave me a small smile and left.

I sat there for a long time after, staring at the empty conference room, trying to process what had just happened.

Cassius Moretti, someone I’d barely spoken to before today had just offered to pay for my mother’s funeral.

And promised to be there.

I didn’t know what to make of him or the situation.

But for the first time since my mother died, I felt like maybe I could breathe.

I texted Cassius the time for the funeral; Friday, 2PM.

The funeral was small.

My mother hadn’t had many friends left by the end. It was just hospital rooms and the people who loved you enough to sit in them.

Still, standing in front of the modest casket in a funeral home, I wished there were more people. More proof that she’d existed. That she’d mattered.

My sister stood beside me, her hand clutched in mine so tightly I’d lost feeling in my fingers. She hadn’t stopped crying since we’d arrived.

I still hadn’t cried.

Not during the viewing. Not during the brief service. Not when they closed the casket and I realized I’d never see her face again.

I felt hollowed out.

A few of my mother’s old coworkers came. They offered condolences in hushed voices, squeezed my hand, and left quickly. I didn’t blame them. No one knew what to say.

Then I saw people from work.

A handful of coworkers I barely knew filed in quietly, staying toward the back. They nodded at me, sympathy in their eyes, but kept their distance after paying their respects.

I appreciated it. I didn’t have the energy for conversation.

But then Cassius walked in.

He wore a dark suit, simple and perfectly fitted, his usual easy expression replaced with something more somber. He caught my eye from across the room and gave a small nod.

He’d actually come.

He stayed through the entire service.

While my coworkers slipped out early, checking their watches, Cassius remained in that back row. When it ended and people filtered out with murmured goodbyes, he approached slowly.

“Sienna,” he said quietly. “I’m very sorry.”

“Thank you.” My voice sounded strange. Distant. “And thank you for coming. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Sadie looked up then, her face blotchy and swollen from crying. She studied him with red-rimmed eyes, clearly trying to place him.

Cassius turned to her, his expression gentle. “You must be Sienna’s sister. I’m Cassius. I work with her.”

Sadje managed a weak smile. “Thank you for being here.”

“Of course.” He paused, then added, “I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mother… Sienna spoke highly of her.”

I had? I didn’t remember telling him anything about my mother. But the kindness in his voice made my sister’s eyes well up again.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I pulled her closer, and Cassius took that as his cue.

“I’ll leave you both,” he said quietly. “But if you need anything either of you please let me know.”

He started to walk away, but my sister called out.

“Cassius?”

He turned back.

“I’m Sadie, thank you,” she said again, more firmly this time. “For… for helping Sienna. She told me what you did.”

His expression softened. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t anything,” she said, her voice cracking. “It meant everything.”

He nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude, and gave us both a small smile before leaving.

My sister watched him go, then looked at me.

“That’s him?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“He’s nice.”

“Yeah,” I said again, not knowing what else to say.

She squeezed my hand. “We’re going to be okay, Sienna.”

I wanted to believe her.

The days after the funeral blurred together.

I stayed home like Cassius had told me to.

My sister and I existed in a strange limbo. Sleeping at odd hours. Eating when we remembered. Going through our mother’s things and breaking down over a sweater or a coffee mug.

True to his word, Cassius had spoken to HR. They’d approved an extended leave, two weeks, paid, which shouldn’t have been possible for someone so new.

But he’d made it happen.

The funeral costs were handled too. I didn’t know the details. Cassius had told me not to worry about it, that it was taken care of. When I’d pushed, he’d simply said, “We’ll figure out repayment later. Focus on your family.”

So I did.

My sister and I cried together. Laughed at old memories. Sat in silence when words felt impossible.

Slowly, slowly, the sharpest edges of grief began to dull.

Not gone. But bearable.

Work felt different when I returned.

People were still kind, but the sympathy had faded into normalcy. Life had moved on.

I was grateful for it.

I spent the morning catching up on emails and settling back into routines. It felt good to have structure again.

Cassius stopped by my desk around eleven.

“Hey,” he said, that easy smile back in place. “How are you doing?”

“Better,” I said honestly. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course.” He hesitated. “Listen, I know you just got back, but… would you want to grab coffee tomorrow afternoon? Just to catch up?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great. I’ll swing around then?”

“Sounds good.”

He walked away, and I returned to my emails, feeling almost normal for the first time in weeks.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Meetings, projects, the familiar rhythm of work.

By the time six-thirty rolled around, most people had gone home. I stayed late, trying to get ahead, making up for lost time.

Finally, I packed up my things and headed for the elevator.

I headed for the stairs, taking a longer route toward the garage. There was a bus stop director outside the underground garage.

The underground garage was nearly empty at this hour.

My footsteps echoed on the concrete as I walked toward the exit.

Then I heard voices.

Tense. Angry.

I stopped, instinct telling me to stay quiet.

The voices were coming from around the corner, near the executive parking spaces.

I should leave.

But something made me duck behind a concrete pillar instead.

Carefully, quietly, I peered around the edge of the pillar.

Four men stood in a tight cluster near a black SUV.

Three of them I didn’t recognize, older, expensive suits, the kind of men who radiated authority and danger.

The fourth was Cassius.

My stomach dropped.

One of the older men was speaking, his voice low and harsh. Italian. I couldn’t understand the words, but the tone was clear.

He was furious.

Cassius responded, his voice calm but with an edge I’d never heard before. Defensive.

The older man’s expression darkened.

Then he moved.

Fast. Brutal.

He backhanded Cassius across the face.

I gasped, clapping my hand over my mouth too late.

Cassius’s head snapped to the side from the force of it. But he didn’t fight back. Didn’t even raise his hands to defend himself.

He just took it.

The older man grabbed Cassius by the collar, pulled him close, and said something, low, threatening, his face inches from Cassius’s.

Cassius responded quietly, and I saw him nod.

“Padre” Cassius began his sentence saying.

I didn’t speak Italian but I for sure knew what Padre meant.

The older man released him with a shove, said something else, then turned and walked toward the SUV with the other two men.

They drove away.

Cassius stood there alone, touching his lip where blood was already beginning to well.

I pressed myself against the pillar, heart hammering, trying to decide what to do.

Leave. I should leave. Pretend I didn’t see anything.

But I couldn’t move.

“You can come out now, Sienna.”

I froze.