The Unqualified Mafia Wife

I didn't want to die in this house, nor did I want to remain trapped in their world after I died.

Nevertheless, my belongings still had to be taken care of.

That room of mine—the smallest storage room in the Gardner residence—was less than 100 square feet. The wallpaper was peeling, and there were cracks in the floor.

It was full of old books from my high school days, examination papers that had yellowed under the sun, and I also had a few T-shirts that had been washed till they faded almost white.

A discolored desk and a rusty chair sat in a corner.

In comparison to Stella's room, which was fit for a princess and came with an en-suite bathroom and wardrobe, we seemed to live in two entirely different worlds.

At this residence, I wasn't even treated like a guest—more like a maid. I was just a shadow that no one would miss.

I started sorting through my belongings. There were old photographs, letters, and a medical record that was once soaked in sweat.

Everything felt as insubstantial as dust.

A folder lay on the desk. It was a quotation from when I contacted a funeral parlor a few days ago.

My phone screen lit up. A woman spoke in a gentle tone, asking, "Ms. Gardner, we have reserved a time for cremation services and a floral memorial display for you. May I confirm your reservation?"

I fell silent for a moment before answering, "I don't need it anymore."

"Alright. I'll cancel it for you, then."

I ended the call. No one needed to know about my funeral either.

All of a sudden, footsteps came from the other side of the door. I looked back, only to see Zachary Hood standing at the doorway.

He wore a flawlessly-tailored black shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the tattoo on his wrist—the symbol of his mafia family, nicknamed "The Falcons."

He held control over the underworld in this city, and he was also an ally of the Gardner family. More importantly, he was my husband.

The husband who hid me and with whom I didn't even have a wedding celebration.

A marriage alliance between the Gardners and The Falcons should have been a merging of power that was the envy of all.

However, although I was the one eligible for the marriage pact, the marriage was kept a secret temporarily because I wasn't qualified to become the wife of the Hood family's mafia boss.

They said that they could only acknowledge who I was publicly after I passed the physical training. My hands should not shake when I held a gun, and I had to hit my targets accurately.

As such, I had never been acknowledged as Zachary's wife these three years.

"You're back," I said in a low voice that carried a tinge of exhaustion.

Zachary spoke frigidly, his face gloomy. "Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough through that act of yours at the hospital today?"

I pressed my lips together tightly. As expected, just like the others, he assumed that I was putting on an act.

"Did you know how many strings I had to pull in order to stop the news outlets from reporting on that ridiculous behavior of yours?"

He took a step forward. In a deep voice, he continued, "Winifred, what in the world are you trying to do by registering for organ donation on the day of Stella's coming-of-age ceremony?

"Are you aware of how others will perceive this?"

I chuckled, my voice hoarse. "I just wanted to do one thing that I decided for myself."

"Oh, don't lie to me," he replied frostily.

"You were just trying to draw attention to yourself. You always felt like you were neglected and overlooked, so you wanted to validate your existence through extreme measures like this. Am I right?"

Every word he said was like blades stabbing straight into my chest. I wanted to speak, but I couldn't make a sound.

He fixed his eyes on me, the fury in his eyes turning into exhaustion. "Winifred, Stella once lived under the care of others and was criticized since she was young.

"Now that she's finally having her coming-of-age ceremony, you, as her elder sister, created such a fuss. Can't you just be more tolerant of her?"

"I've never had a proper birthday celebration…" I muttered.

Zachary furrowed his brows, his tone impatient. "Your birthday was over a long time ago. What's the point of bringing it up now? Don't be so calculative."

I lowered my eyes and did not reply. He couldn't see my pain or hear the stutter of my heartbeat.

The sound of the doors unlocking broke the silence in the room. Stella entered the room with Mom and Dad in the lead.

They beamed from ear to ear, as if they had just returned from a success.

"Oh, Winnie, you're home."

A hint of hesitation flashed across Stella's face when she saw me. Immediately after, she put on a tender expression.

"Mom, I'd like to have the chocolate cake that Winnie makes."

My mother gave me a sidelong glance. "Winnie? What is she capable of doing? Quit joking around. We've ordered custom desserts from the hotel for the banquet."

"That isn't an issue, Mom."

In a gentle voice, Stella insisted, "I just want to have the cake that Winnie makes. It tastes really unique."

As she said that, she walked to my side and tugged on my sleeve gently. She pleaded, "Please, Winnie. Just make me a small cake, will you?"

My lips curled into a smile.

"Aren't you allergic to cocoa, though?" I asked.

Stella froze. All the color drained from her face instantly as the air in the room came to a standstill.

"I was so excited that I forgot I was allergic to cocoa."

She hung her head low as tears trickled down her face.

"You won't blame me, will you, Winnie?"

As she uttered those words, she wrapped her hands around my arm all of a sudden and squeezed up close to me.

Instinctively, I wanted to retreat. However, she tightened her grasp, clawing at me.

The sharp pain forced me to pull my hand back abruptly. In the next second, she let out a gasp of shock and staggered a couple of steps toward the tea table and leaned against it, looking as white as a sheet.