How I Ghosted My Mafia Wife

"I'll sit in the back."

On the way to the restaurant, Madeline gave me a puzzled look. "Why? You always sit up front."

Because I couldn't stand to sit in the passenger seat where her little lover had been countless times. The thought of them in this car, together, made me want to tear everything apart.

But all I said was, "Just want to watch the city lights."

Madeline thought nothing of it.

When she took my arm as we walked into the hotel, all eyes were on us, a mixture of envy and fear. In their world, a man like me marrying Madeline Windemere, getting the family's protection without having to earn his keep, was the ultimate prize. They had no idea what it cost.

Several of the family's Capos came over to greet us. Madeline clung to my arm, whispering in my ear and kissing my cheek every so often. The Capos showered us with compliments about our love. Madeline beamed, and I played my part, smiling right alongside her.

Dinner went smoothly, at least on the surface. Madeline talked about family business, occasionally asking for my opinion. I played the role of the perfect husband: intelligent, involved, but never overstepping.

At 8:20, Madeline checked her watch. "Darling, I need to step out for a bit. A partner is downstairs, have to discuss some business. I'll be back in half an hour."

"Of course," I smiled. "I'll be here."

A few minutes later, I excused myself to the restroom, stepped out of the hall, and called her. She answered on the third ring.

"Hey, baby. What's up?" Madeline's voice sounded a little rushed.

"I think I've had too much to drink," I slurred, faking it. "When are you coming back?"

"Soon, just give me… fifteen more minutes," her voice was muffled, like she was trying to hold something back.

Then I heard it.

A man's low, teasing laugh. And the soft, metallic jingle of something—jingle, jingle—like the little bells on a piece of lingerie or a sex toy.

"Madeline? Where are you?" I kept my voice laced with concern.

"In… in the office," she answered, breathing heavily. "The partner just arrived."

"Mmm… Madeline…" A man's moan echoed in the background.

My hand tightened around the phone, my knuckles turning white. It was Ryan's voice. No doubt about it.

"Baby, you sound strange," I said, deliberately dragging out the call. "You sure everything's okay?"

"Of course… ah…" Madeline was trying to control her voice, but I could hear exactly what she was doing. "This partner is just a little… difficult."

"Oh yes, Madeline… you're so good…" Ryan's voice drifted through, muffled. He clearly had no idea she was on the phone.

Jingle, jingle. The damn bells were getting faster.

I hit the record button, calmly documenting everything. A trained mercenary knows the value of intel.

"Madeline? Madeline?" I called out, faking urgency.

"What? Oh, sorry baby," she came back on the line, breathless. "The signal's bad. I'm coming up right now."

"Okay. I love you," I said in my gentlest voice.

"I love you too."

The lie rolled off her tongue so easily, so practiced.

I hung up, saved the recording, and walked back to the table as if nothing had happened.

Forty minutes later, Madeline returned to the restaurant. Her hair was a bit messy and her dress was wrinkled, but she wore a satisfied smile.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, baby," she said, sitting down beside me. "That partner was a real handful."

I turned to her and gave her a perfect smile. "It's fine. I know how important business is."

She reached out and took my hand. "You're the best husband in the world."

Just then, my phone vibrated.

"Passport and ticket confirmed. Departure in five days. All set."

I quickly locked the screen, but Madeline had caught a glimpse of the words.

"Passport?" she asked, looking at me with suspicion. "William, are you going somewhere?"