He Thinks I Betrayed Him

In my fifth year of mopping floors in a speakeasy, my ex-boyfriend—the one who had sworn he'd kill me—became the Capo running the territory.

Duke Costello, in his custom Italian leather shoes, stomped on the burner phone I clutched in my hand. With a sharp crack, the screen spiderwebbed.

I lunged for it, but he kicked the back of my hand, an angry red welt blooming instantly on my skin.

Duke loomed over me, his thin lips moving, a cruel, vengeful glint in his eyes.

I read his lips: "Scarlett Hayes. Five years ago, during that shootout, you were so damn clever, weren't you? Selling me out to save your own skin. Look at you now—a deaf, mute wreck."

The men behind him erupted in laughter.

Duke raised an eyebrow, pulled a wad of cash from his wallet, and scattered it contemptuously at my feet.

"Pick it up. Isn't money what you love more than anything?"

I lowered my eyes and numbly began to gather the bills.

My silent compliance seemed only to enrage him further. He grabbed me by the throat. "Stop playing fucking dead! Speak!"

He didn't know.

The explosion five years ago, the thick smoke—it had torn my voice from my throat.

And I had never betrayed him.

All I had done was drag his unconscious body for miles through an abandoned industrial park. The blast had shattered my eardrums, forever silencing the sound of him saying he loved me.

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1

Suffocation crushed me. My vision swam with black spots as my fingers clawed weakly at his wrist.

One of his men, a guy named Nick, tried to intervene. "Capo, easy. We're not here to kill her."

Duke abruptly let go, and I collapsed to the floor, clutching my neck and coughing violently.

He gestured to the bar manager.

"Tonight, she cleans the whole place."

The manager glanced at me, troubled. "Capo, this..."

"What? Is my word no good anymore?" Duke shot him a cold glare. "Or does the Costello family's protection now extend to a cleaning lady?"

The manager’s face immediately contorted into a sycophantic smile. "Of course not, Capo! Scarlett, what are you waiting for? Thank the Capo for this opportunity."

I struggled to my feet, retrieved the mop, and silently resumed my work.

These were the rules here: obey to survive.

My stoic silence seemed to burn him, and he took a half-step back as if scorched. He gritted his teeth, muttering, "So damn boring," before turning to leave.

A woman in a sequined dress hurried after him. "Duke, don't get angry over a piece of trash like her..."

Their voices faded.

Only after they were all gone did I squat down and pick up the dollar bills one by one.

The burner phone in my pocket vibrated. A text from the clinic:

'Ms. Hayes, your account has an insufficient balance. If payment isn't made within three days, we will have to release your treatment slot.'

I stared at the words for a long time, until the screen timed out.

Duke returned, standing in the shadows, watching me with cold eyes.

"Next Saturday is my engagement party with Victoria Russo. I need a server. Five thousand for the night. You in?"

I clutched the bills in my hand and signed my reply. 'I'll do it.'

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

"You're that desperate for money?"

I nodded.

"Suit yourself." Duke turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Dress decently. Don't embarrass me."

The door slammed shut.

My phone vibrated again.

This time it was the building manager, Mr. Henderson. 'Scarlett, next quarter's rent is due. Pay up, or I'm changing the locks.'

I neatly folded the crumpled cash and tucked it deep into the lining of my bra.

Then I picked up a rag and continued wiping the grime from the bar.

Just like five years ago, kneeling on the floor of our rundown apartment, wiping the blood from Duke’s jacket.

He had said then, "Scarlett, when I make it, I'll buy you a mansion. You'll live a life of luxury, so you'll never have to touch filth like this again."

Now, he had made it.

And I was mopping the floor beneath his feet.