Beauty and the Mafia Beast

Amanda's heels clicked down the hallway, leaving me alone with the weight of her words crushing my chest. I gripped the marble counter, my knuckles white against the stone. The bathroom's soft lighting cast shadows across my face in the mirror - I barely recognized the woman staring back.

Seven years. Seven years of memories in that bed. The first time he'd pulled me close, whispered that he loved me. Countless Sunday mornings tangled in those silk sheets, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin.

Bile rose in my throat. Tuesday. While I'd been learning about aperture settings and shutter speeds, dreaming of capturing our future together, he'd been...

My stomach heaved. I lurched for the toilet, but nothing came up. Just dry, silent retches that shook my whole body.

The counter felt cool against my forehead as I pressed it there, fighting back tears. I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not where they could see the mascara tracks on my cheeks and know they'd won.

The same bed. Our bed. The sheets I'd spent a month's salary on because he'd mentioned loving silk against his skin. He'd taken her there deliberately, tainted every memory we'd built in that space.

My reflection trembled in the mirror.

I smoothed my hands down my dress, adjusted my hair. Forced my breathing to steady. The tears burned behind my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. Not yet. Not until I was alone, away from their cruel smiles and knowing glances.

Seven years of memories, destroyed in one afternoon on silk sheets.

I walked back, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like lead. Ethan and Amanda sat across from each other at a pristine white tablecloth, their soup bowls steaming between them. The picture-perfect couple. My stomach twisted.

I slid into the empty chair beside Ethan. His jaw clenched, shoulders tensing as I settled in. The air felt thick enough to choke on.

Amanda's red lips curled into that knowing smirk, but the moment Ethan glanced her way, her expression crumpled. Those perfectly lined eyes went wide and wounded, like a kicked puppy. My fingers itched to slap that fake look off her face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ethan's voice cut through the silence, sharp as a blade.

"What?" I stared at him, thrown by the venom in his tone.

He slammed his hand on the table, making the silverware rattle. "Don't play innocent. How dare you speak to Amanda that way about her mother? Her mother just passed away, and you have the nerve to make cruel comments?"

My mouth fell open. The room spun slightly. "I... what? I never said anything about-"

"Stop lying," he snarled. "Amanda told me everything about your little bathroom chat. I knew you could be jealous, but this is low, even for you."

I gaped between them, my mind reeling. Amanda dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, the picture of grief, while Ethan glared at me like I was something scraped off his shoe.

The same man who'd held me last night, kissed my forehead, promised forever - now he believed this stranger's lies without a second thought. Seven years meant nothing in the face of her tears.

The other guests turned to stare, forks frozen halfway to their mouths. Heat crept up my neck as whispers rippled through the room. My humiliation burned deeper with each passing second.

Amanda pressed her perfectly manicured fingers to her chest. "No, Ethan, it's fine. I understand she's... going through things." Her voice wavered as fresh tears welled in her eyes. "We shouldn't make a scene."

The syrupy sweetness in her voice made my skin crawl. Every sob, every trembling lip - a performance worthy of an Oscar.

"Shut up!" The words burst from my throat before I could stop them. "Just shut up with your fake crying!"

The crack of Ethan's palm across my face echoed through the silent room. My cheek stung, but the betrayal in that strike cut deeper than any physical pain. I touched my fingers to the spot, still burning from his hand.

Amanda gasped, her eyes wide with mock horror. "Oh God, I can't... I need some air." She pushed back from the table, dabbing at her eyes as she rushed toward the exit.

"Amanda, wait!" Ethan jumped up, knocking his chair backward in his haste to follow her. He didn't spare me a single glance as he chased after her, leaving me alone at the table with dozens of judgmental stares boring into me.

…

I stumbled out of Amanda's penthouse, my legs shaking beneath me. The night air hit my face, cooling the spot where Ethan's hand had struck. A yellow cab crawled past and I waved it down, sliding into the leather backseat.

"Where to, miss?"

I rattled off my address, then slumped against the window. The city lights blurred through my tears, streaking across my vision like shooting stars. Each sob ripped through my chest, but I couldn't hold them back anymore.

Nine years ago, I'd fled from fists and cruel words, leaving everything behind. Now here I was, crying in the back of a cab because I'd let another man hurt me.

No more.

I wiped my eyes roughly with the back of my hand. I was done letting men like Ethan Shaw destroy me. Done being the weak little girl who ran away.

My phone felt heavy in my purse. I pulled it out, scrolling through my contacts until I found his name. Adam. My finger hovered over the number - the same one he'd had nine years ago when I left. I'd never deleted it, though guilt had stopped me from calling all these years.

My brother. The only person who'd tried to protect me back then. Who'd taken the hits meant for me until I couldn't bear to watch anymore.

The screen blurred as fresh tears welled up. Before I could second-guess myself, I pressed call.

One ring. Two rings.

The line clicked. Silence stretched between us, heavy with nine years of unspoken words.

Then, his voice. Deep, familiar despite the years between us.

"Emma?"