Too Late For The Mafia King's Regret

Nora POV

On the morning of the second day, I baited the trap.

I sat at the vanity in the guest room, weighing a small black velvet box in my palm. Inside sat the Marino Signet Ring.

It was more than an heirloom; it was the crown, passed down from Don to Don for four generations. Lucien had given it to me for safekeeping during the war with the Russians last year. He said as long as I had it, his power was safe.

He had forgotten to ask for it back.

I tucked the folded divorce papers underneath the ring, snapping the box shut.

I walked downstairs. Lucien was in the dining room, nursing an espresso. Weariness was etched into his features, but when he saw me, his face lit up.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," I said.

I placed the box on the table in front of him.

"What is this?"

"An anniversary gift," I said. "But you can't open it until tomorrow. I want it to be a surprise."

He smiled-that arrogant, devastating smile that used to bring me to my knees. He picked up the box, weighing it in his hand.

"You spoil me, Donna," he said. "I will put it in the safe."

He stood up to kiss me.

Then, the intercom buzzed.

"Sir," the gate guard's voice crackled over the speaker, tight with panic. "We have a situation. It's... Miss Vittori. She's hysterical."

Lucien froze. His eyes darted to me.

"Handle it," he barked at the intercom. "Send her away."

"She says it's an emergency, Boss. She says... she says she has medical records."

Lucien's face went ashen.

I stood very still.

"I'll deal with this," he said, turning to me. "Go upstairs, Nora. Please."

"Why?" I asked calmly. "Is my sister okay?"

"Just go!" he snapped.

He stormed out to the garden.

I didn't go upstairs. I went to the window overlooking the driveway.

I saw Sophia. She was crying, her makeup smeared into jagged lines. She was waving a manila envelope. Lucien was trying to quiet her, dragging her toward the rose bushes, away from the house.

I opened the window just a crack.

"...nine weeks!" Sophia screamed. "Look at it! It's a boy, Lucien! A son!"

The earth didn't just stop; it shattered.

A son.

I watched Lucien. He stopped dragging her. He took the envelope. He stared at the papers.

His posture changed. The anger evaporated, instantly replaced by something primal. Awe.

He looked at Sophia's stomach. He reached out, his hand hovering over her belly with trembling reverence.

I touched my own flat stomach. The doctors had told me it was unlikely I could conceive due to the stress and a hormonal imbalance. Lucien had always told me it didn't matter. He said we were enough.

He lied.

He looked at Sophia like she was the Holy Grail. She carried the bloodline. She carried the future.

"Get Dr. Rossi," Lucien yelled to his guards. "Now! Get her in the car. Gentle!"

Sophia was sobbing, but I saw the smirk she flashed at the house. She knew I was watching.

Lucien helped her into the car. He looked protective. He looked like a father.

He turned back to the house, pulling out his phone. He dialed me.

I let it ring twice before answering.

"Nora," he said, breathless. "I have to go. The Romanos are moving on the docks. It's war."

"War," I repeated.

"Yes. I might be gone for a few days. Stay inside. Lock the doors."

"Okay," I said. "Be safe."

"I love you," he said.

"Goodbye, Lucien."

I hung up.

He got into the car with her.

That afternoon, my phone buzzed. An unknown number.

A picture. An ultrasound. And a second photo-Lucien kissing Sophia's stomach in the back of the car.

Text: He finally has a real woman. Don't wait up.

I stared at the screen. I didn't feel pain anymore. I felt cold. Surgical.

I spent the next forty-eight hours systematically erasing Eleonora Marino.

I burned my journals in the fireplace. I shredded my photos. I wiped the laptop. I packed a single suitcase with plain clothes, cash, and my passport.

I left the diamonds. I left the furs. I left the wedding ring on the nightstand.

Departure Day arrived.

It was raining. Fitting.

Sophia texted again: It's a boy. He's going to legitimize us. You're just a placeholder, Nora.

I typed a reply.

Congratulations. You can have the life you so desperately want. I hope it's worth it.

I hit send. Then I took the SIM card out of my phone and snapped it in half.

The extraction team was waiting in a black van two streets over. I walked out the service entrance. The guards were changing shifts-a schedule loop I had discovered three years ago.

I slipped into the van.

"Go," I said.

As we drove past St. Mary's Cathedral, the traffic slowed.

I looked out the tinted window.

Lucien and Sophia were coming down the steps. She was wearing white-a cream suit. He was holding an umbrella over her, shielding her from the rain. He looked attentive.

He was ushering her into his armored car.

Suddenly, a gust of wind caught the umbrella, jerking it back. He looked up.

His eyes locked onto the passing van.

He couldn't see me through the blackout tint. But he stared right at where I was sitting. He frowned, a look of confusion crossing his face. He mouthed a name.

Nora?

I turned my head away.

I didn't look back.