Too Late For Regret: The Mafia Don's Lost Wife

Bennett left for the sit-down with the Russos draped in a suit that cost more than my father's annual salary.

He kissed me on the forehead before he walked out the door.

It was a perfunctory press of lips.

A kiss of distraction.

It was the kiss of a man already thinking about the blood he was going to spill.

Or the woman he was doing it for.

His Consigliere had begged him not to go.

He warned him that it was a trap. He insisted the Russos were baiting him, using his ego against him.

But Bennett didn't listen.

He wasn't going to that meeting to secure the ports.

He was going to prove to Aria that he was the king of this concrete jungle, capable of burning down the world just to keep her safe.

I stood by the window, watching his motorcade snake through the rainy streets like a funeral procession.

I felt nothing.

No fear.

No worry.

Just a dull, rhythmic thumping in my chest that reminded me I was still alive.

Aria found me an hour later in the library.

She didn't knock.

She sauntered in, pouring herself a drink from Bennett's crystal decanter as if she already owned the house.

"He's going to kill them all," she said, taking a sip of the amber liquid. "For me."

"He's going to get himself killed," I said, turning a page of my book without reading a single word.

"That's the point, isn't it?"

She sat on the edge of the mahogany desk, swinging her legs with childish delight.

"He loves me enough to die for me, Kelsey. Does he love you that much?"

I looked up at her.

She looked triumphant.

But beneath the gloating, I saw something else.

Calculation.

"You don't love him," I said quietly. "You love what he can do for you."

Aria laughed.

It was a sharp, brittle sound that shattered the quiet of the room.

"Love is for fairy tales and fools," she said. "I love that he pays my brother's debts. I love that no one looks at me like trash anymore because I have the Vitale name protecting me. Bennett is a tool. A very sharp, very useful tool."

She leaned forward, her eyes glittering with malice.

"And I know how to wield him. I cry, he kills. I bleed, he burns cities. What do you do, Kelsey? You just sit there and fade."

My throat felt tight.

Not with tears, but with the sheer weight of the truth.

She was right.

I was fading.

And Bennett was letting it happen because he was too busy being her weapon.

The phone on the desk rang.

It was the secure line.

Aria's face lit up. She snatched the receiver before I could even shift in my chair.

"Bennett?" she breathed.

She listened for a second, and then her smile twisted into something cruel.

She looked at me.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, no."

She hung up the phone.

She didn't look sad.

She looked excited, fueled by the sudden rush of chaos.

"That was a soldier," she said. "Bennett walked into an ambush. They say he's down. Critical."

My cell phone started ringing in my pocket.

It was Bennett's personal number.

Probably a soldier calling the next of kin.

Calling the wife.

Aria watched me, challenging me to break, to scream, to rush to the hospital and play the grieving widow.

I looked at the screen.

"Husband" flashing in white letters against a black background.

I thought about the contract hidden in the archives.

I thought about the scarf left in the lounge.

I thought about Aria's words. He is a tool.

I pressed the red button.

I declined the call.

Aria's eyes widened in genuine shock.

"He might be dying," she whispered.

"I know," I said.

I placed the phone face down on the table.

"If he dies, he dies for you, Aria. You can go hold his hand."

I walked out of the library, leaving the silence heavy and suffocating behind me.

For the first time in years, I felt light.