From Mafia Wife to Rival Queen: I Came Back to Ruin Him

I opened my mouth to answer, but his father interrupted me before a single word could come out.

“Never mind that,” he said, calm and dismissive. “What about Noel? And I heard Lena might be pregnant again. Is that true?”

I stayed silent, fingers tightening around my skirt until the fabric twisted. My chest hurt in a way that felt like something inside me was splitting apart.

His mother clicked her tongue softly, then added with a satisfied tone, “That woman really knows how to bring life into Vincenzo’s world. No drama, no breakdowns. Always composed. Always pleasant. Not like… some people.”

I lowered my eyes and said nothing.

Then his father’s voice dropped heavier, sharper.

“Go assist the kitchen. And bring us tea first. Tell Vincenzo we expect him next week for our anniversary dinner. You may bring your sick child if you insist.”

My voice came out small. “Yes, of course.”

I went to the kitchen, told the chef they wanted jasmine tea, and prepared everything myself. I arranged the tray carefully—porcelain cups, polished edges, everything perfect on the outside. Inside, I was barely holding myself together.

When I carried the tray out and set it down, my hand trembled. One cup slipped.

It hit the floor and shattered instantly.

The sound cut through the room.

His mother inhaled sharply, then turned on me with a glare.

“You’ve always been so careless,” she snapped. “Even something this simple—tea—you can’t manage it. Just like your life. Bitter and useless.”

I stared at the broken pieces on the floor, then slowly straightened my back.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Not for the cup. Not for the mistake.

For the version of me that once believed I could be accepted here.

That version died with Gabriel.

They didn’t stay long after that.

Vincenzo’s parents stood up, their expressions tight with disdain. His mother adjusted her gloves with slow precision, like she was wiping off something unpleasant.

“I’ll make sure Vincenzo knows how far you’ve fallen,” she said coldly. “Maybe this time he’ll finally see it. You never belonged here. You never were worth his time.”

The door closed behind them. Tires rolled away down the driveway. And just like that, the house sank back into silence.

The same silence that had always lived here.

I turned to one of the maids. “You can stop preparing lunch. They’ve left.”

She nodded quickly.

I went upstairs slowly, each step heavier than the last, like my body didn’t belong to me anymore.

Halfway up, I heard voices drifting from the kitchen—low, careless, unfiltered.

“She didn’t even cry when they left.”

“Have you seen the urn in her room? That boy… Gabriel… he’s really gone.”

“Mr. Vincenzo only talks about Noel now. He even brings flowers for Lena. No visits, no prayers… nothing for the other child.”

“And even if he did, what would it change? That boy was always too soft… too fragile.”

“She used to be the lady of this house. Now she’s just… surviving.”

I didn’t stop walking.

I didn’t react.

I didn’t defend myself.

Maybe they were right.

I reached my room and shut the door behind me.

My phone rang.

Vincenzo.

Once. Twice.

I just stared at the screen until it stopped ringing on its own. No message followed. No explanation. Nothing.

The silence came back stronger than before.

Heavier. Familiar. Permanent.

**

I changed my clothes without a sound.

I picked the soft blue dress Gabriel loved—the one stitched with tiny white clouds. He used to hold it in his small hands and smile like it meant something magical.

“Mama, you look like a storybook mom,” he once told me. “The kind that keeps kids safe. The kind that doesn’t disappear.”

I picked up his urn and held it close, pressing it to my chest like I could still feel him there.

Then I left.

I drove to the only place he ever truly wanted to go—Ocean Park.

Every year, he used to ask.

“Just once, Mama… I want to see the dolphins. I’ll be good, I promise.”

And every year, Vincenzo said no.

Too dangerous. Too weak. Too sickly. Always too much for Gabriel, but never for anyone else.

I bought two tickets anyway.

One for me.

One for him.

I sat there holding the urn, whispering to it, laughing softly whenever the dolphins jumped through the water. People probably thought I had lost my mind, talking to something that couldn’t answer back.

I didn’t care.

This day wasn’t for them.

Not for Vincenzo. Not for his family. Not for anyone else in his world.

Only for Gabriel.

I lit a small candle near the railings, shielding it from the wind as the flame flickered.

“Happy birthday, my love,” I whispered.

When I got home, night had already swallowed the mansion whole. The glass walls reflected nothing but darkness, like veins running through a dead body. Even the lights felt dimmer, like they were afraid to shine too brightly.

I stepped inside.

And Vincenzo was already there.

He emerged from the shadows before I could even fully register his presence.

Then his hand struck me.

Hard.

So fast I didn’t even see it coming.

The impact echoed through the foyer like a gunshot. My head snapped to the side and slammed into the doorframe. White flashed across my vision. A sharp ringing filled my ears as my body staggered under the force.