My Mafia Husband Said He Was Broke

The kidnapper stood frozen, staring in disbelief at the dead phone. Then, in a fit of rage, he kicked an iron barrel, sending it clattering across the concrete.

"Damn it! So this is your precious family bond?"

"I wasted my damn time!"

Luca had already fainted from sheer terror. I collapsed in a heap, my forehead striking the concrete. I felt a warm trickle of liquid but registered no pain.

"Since I'm not getting any money, this mother and son are a liability."

The kidnapper grabbed me by the hair. "Don't blame me for this. Blame your cold-blooded Don."

I felt a moment of weightlessness as I was lifted into the air. Then, ice-cold seawater engulfed me.

The salty water flooded my nose and throat. My lungs burned.

I reached desperately for Luca, but a swift undercurrent tore us apart.

As I sank into the depths, only one thought filled my mind.

Santino, I regret it all.

I wish I had never met you.

Some god must have been watching over us, because we didn't die. The next thing I knew, I was waking to the steady beep of a heart monitor.

"Luca... where is my son?!"

As memory returned, I shot up, yanking the IV from my arm.

A nurse rushed to hold me down. "Don't move! A fishing boat rescued you and your son. The boy is in the ICU. He's out of danger."

Ignoring the nurse's protests, I pulled the needle from the back of my hand and stumbled barefoot into the next room.

When I pushed open the door, I saw his small figure.

Luca sat numbly on the bed, staring at his bandaged body, his eyes terrifyingly empty.

"Luca..." I called, my voice choked.

He slowly turned his head. After a moment, he spoke.

"Mommy, can we go now?"

I glanced at the calendar on the wall. Today was the last day of the divorce review period.

"Yes," I said, gently kissing his cold forehead. "Mommy is taking you away right now. We're never coming back."

When I received the official divorce decree, stamped with a wax seal from the Family's administrative office, I felt a moment of unreality.

Five years of marriage, all the love and hate, reduced to this single, flimsy piece of parchment.

I took Luca back to the apartment, a place full of cold memories, and started to pack.

We had very few things, just enough to fill a small suitcase and some essential documents.

The cheap, counterfeit things Santino had bought for his disguise, the dusty plastic wedding ring, I threw them all in the trash.

"What's this charade now?"

A mocking voice came from the doorway.

Santino leaned against the frame, watching me with cold eyes. "The kidnapping stunt failed, so now you're playing the runaway wife?"

"Erin, you have quite a repertoire."

I ignored him, tucking the last toy into Luca's small backpack.

"Erin." He strode over and grabbed my wrist. "I've had enough. Stop testing me."

I finally looked up at him. "Let go."

Santino laughed, a humorless sound. "Fine. Very good."

"Throwing my things out? Playing the runaway? Fine. Then get out."

He let go, flicking his hand in disgust. "I'd like to see how long you last before you come crawling back. Without the Connor family's protection, the two of you wouldn't survive three days in New York."

"When you're done with your tantrum, you know where to find me. Don't expect me to come get you."

Even now, he believed everything I did was just another attempt to get a sliver of his attention.

"You won't have to worry about it."

I picked up the suitcase, took Luca's hand, and walked past him.

I walked away without a hint of hesitation.

"Santino, this time it's real," I said, pausing for a moment without turning back. "Goodbye."

The single word made Santino's back stiffen. Unseen by me, his hand, hidden behind his back, clenched into a white-knuckled fist.

He took a half-step forward as if to chase after me, but finally, he just stopped.

He was sure she loved him the way a dog loves its master. How could she ever truly leave?

Erin leaving Santino was the biggest joke in the world.

Reaching the door, I took a document from my bag and placed it on the entryway table.

This time, I didn't look back.

Half an hour later, at Grand Central Station.

The train whistle blew, and the giant wheels began to turn.

I sat by the window, watching New York City recede, everything from my past fading with it.

Luca was pressed against the window, asking in a small voice, "Mommy, are we really never coming back?"

"Never."

The train picked up speed, the wind whistling past.

I stared at the blurred scenery outside. Tears finally streamed down my face, but a smile of liberation touched my lips.

Santino, I hope you can still smile when you learn the truth.