Framed as a Gangster at My Girlfriend's House

Bianca stood up and hid behind Antonio. She looked at me as though I were someone she didn't know—or even someone she hated.

A chill settled in my chest. Was this really the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with? Just because of Antonio's instigation, she wasn't even going to give me a chance to explain myself?

Seeing this, Antonio became even more smug. He pulled out his phone with the air of a man about to interrogate a criminal.

"You think you can leave? It's not that easy! There have been several robberies near the neighborhood recently, and the suspect's distinguishing feature is a scar on his hand."

He grinned maliciously, blocking the doorway. "I think that person is you! You're not leaving this house until you come clean!"

The air in the room felt like it had frozen solid.

Antonio's words hit like a thunderclap, scaring Mr. and Mrs. Romano out of their wits.

"He's a robber?" Mrs. Romano screamed. Then, she grabbed a plate from the table and hurled it at me. "Good grief! I knew there was no way Bianca would fall for some security guard! I bet you planned all this to seize the chance to clear your name, didn't you?"

The plate struck my shoulder, splattering food all over me. Instead of dodging, I just stared intently at Bianca.

"Do you believe I'm a robber too?" I asked.

Bianca was still hiding behind Antonio. She was too afraid to even look up.

"Enzo, you can never really know someone. Antonio runs in a lot of circles, so he's a good judge of character," she replied in a trembling voice, each word cutting deep. "Just go. I'm already showing you more mercy than you deserve by not calling the police."

I found it utterly absurd that three years of a relationship could be destroyed by a single rumor spread by some local thug.

I turned around to grab my coat.

"Who told you to move?" Antonio slammed his hand down on my coat, a twisted grin spreading across his face.

"Since you're here, don't be in such a hurry to leave. Think of it as me doing society a favor. If I let you run off today, who knows how many more people you'll go on to ruin?"

He pulled out his phone as he spoke and dialed a number.

"Hey, Fabio? Bring a few of the guys to my aunt's place. That's right—the very same wanted criminal."

I turned around and stared coldly at Antonio.

"Antonio, defamation is a crime. I'd advise you to stop while you still can."

"Oh, you're threatening me?" Antonio hung up the phone and grabbed the empty wine bottle on the table. "I've seen plenty of scum like you. You never learn until it's too late. Once my boys get here, we'll see how tough you really are."

"Antonio, quit wasting your breath on him," Mr. Romano chimed in from the side. "Tie him up first! Don't let him run off and hurt someone!"

Mrs. Romano ran to the kitchen and came back clutching a rolling pin.

The family that had been all smiles moments ago now looked like they were ready for a blood feud.

I watched it happen, and with it went the last warm feeling in my heart.

"Fine, I won't leave." I pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'll wait right here. Let's see who you've called and who the police end up arresting."

My calm demeanor seemed to shake Antonio for a second. But he quickly covered it up and pointed at me as he turned to Bianca. "See that? Textbook sociopath. He's as cool as a cucumber because he's done this a thousand times."

Bianca bit her lip, her eyes full of contempt.

"Enzo, enough with the act. If you're really innocent, why won't you show us your military discharge papers?"

"Yeah! Show us!" Antonio jeered from the sidelines.

My military discharge papers were classified as top secret. They had secret codes on them that no civilian would understand. Besides, I wasn't authorized to just show them to anyone.

I stayed silent.

But to them, my silence was as good as a confession.

"Nothing to say now, huh?" Antonio weighed the bottle in his hand, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. "Pretty soon, we're going to strip you down and see what tattoos you're hiding. The mafia loves their crosses and their saints. I bet you're no different."

In less than ten minutes, the roar of motorcycles echoed from beyond the yard.

The front door flew open with a kick, and five thugs with dyed hair and tattooed sleeves barged in.

"Boss, where's the guy?"

The leader, a heavyset guy with a fleshy face, was holding a steel pipe.

Antonio perked up immediately and pointed at me, shouting, "That's him! This guy's a wanted robber. He just tried to jump my uncle!"