Ditching My Ex, Becoming The Mafia Queen

LENA’S POV

As I sat in my new cozy apartment, sipping on a freshly brewed latte, my friends' voices came through the speaker, sounding concerned and relieved.

"Lena, we're just so glad you finally know the truth," Sophia said, her tone sincere. "We've always known that Marcelo was never good enough for you, but your love for him just blinded you to it all."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I can't believe I was so stupid, so blindly devoted to him. All the signs were there, and I just chose to ignore them." I paused, feeling a familiar ache in my chest. "My heart is still in pieces, you know?"

"I’m really sorry, babe," Yvonne chimed in, her voice gentle. "But you're not weak, okay? You're stronger than you know, and you've finally taken the first step to becoming free of that man."

I gave a stiff nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "You're right. I'm not going to let them keep me down any longer."

We laughed and joked till the call ended.

As the evening wore on, I got myself busy in the kitchen, fixing up a dinner of grilled chicken, roasted potatoes, and a tangy, homemade sauce. Cooking always distracted me and it was a great feeling.

Just as I was pouring myself another steaming mug of my favorite latte, my mom's face appeared on the video call. "Mija, how are you holding up?" she asked, her brows drawn together with concern.

I offered her a reassuring smile. "I'm doing better, Mama. This house is so peaceful, and I'm glad I chose it. I think I'm going to spend my time exploring the city later tonight. There's just something about this place that feels... liberating, you know?"

Mom nodded, though I could see the worry in her eyes. "Are you sure you're okay being there by yourself?"

I chuckled, taking a sip of my latte. "I'm a big girl, Mama. I can handle it. Besides, I need this time to myself, to clear my head and figure out what's next."

She sighed. "Okay, sweetie. But please be careful. And there's something else. Your dad's health is declining, and with the look of things, he might not survive it. Wouldn't you come home?"

I felt guilty, but I knew I couldn't go back right now. "I'll return when I can, Mom. But for now, I need to focus on myself. I promise I'll stay in touch."

A message from Marcelo popped up on the screen then.

"Mama, I'm going to have to call you back," I said, my tone clipped. "Marcelo is trying to reach me, and I wanna see what he has to say."

Mom nodded in understanding and the call ended.

I took a deep breath and opened Marcelo's message. To my surprise, it was a series of photos – photos of a wedding dress that was definitely not my style.

I couldn't believe my eyes as I read the text. Along with the pictures of the wedding dress, he had added a message that made my blood boil.

"I let Francine pick it out because she has a higher taste than yours," he wrote.

I felt disgusted. How dare he? He had the nerve to insult me, to imply that Francine was somehow better than me. I was furious. So I was going to wear what Francine chose?

But I didn't let my anger get the best of me. Instead, I calmly read the rest of his message. He told me that the fitting was tomorrow and that I should be at the bridal shop at a certain time. He even sent me the address.

"I would have come to pick you up tomorrow," he wrote, "but I'm going to be engaged with business."

Yeah, right. I knew exactly what kind of "business" he was engaged in. More like engaged with Francine.

"How about having the wedding in seven days instead of twenty-one days from now?" he asked.

I typed back a response, as quickly as I could. "Anything you want," I wrote. "The faster I get married to the man of my dreams, the better."

Pfft. He used to be the man of my dreams but not anymore.

He sent me a heart emoji and a message that made my skin crawl. "I can't wait to make you my wife," he wrote.

I knew deep down that he was trying to rush the whole wedding because he didn’t want me to get my memories back fully.

Just as I was about to respond to his message, the door burst open and a bleeding man stumbled in. He was holding his lower abdomen, and he looked like he was in pain.

I screamed at the top of my voice as he passed out on the floor. My heart was beating fast, and my mind was spinning. What was happening?