Unwanted Wife: The Mafia Boss's Regret

Bailey POV

The soundproof room reeked of rust and bleach.

It was a space designed for breaking people, usually reserved for interrogating rivals.

Now, however, they were using it on me.

Kane shoved me, sending me crashing to my knees on the unforgiving concrete.

"Admit it," Kane snarled. "You faked the video."

"I didn't," I gasped, my voice trembling.

"She betrayed you. She sold the codes."

Blake unbuckled his belt.

As the Enforcer, it was his job to punish disobedience.

"Don't lie to us," Blake said, his voice deceptively calm. "Haleigh is sick. She wouldn't hurt the family."

He folded the heavy leather strap.

"This is for your own good, Bailey. To cleanse the envy out of you."

Suddenly, Maria burst into the room at the top of the stairs.

"Stop!" she screamed. "She is your sister!"

Derrick grabbed Maria instantly.

"Get her out of here," Jameson said from the shadows.

He was leaning against the wall, watching with cold detachment.

He wasn't stopping them.

He was letting it happen.

He was the Underboss, and he had to uphold order—even if it meant breaking me.

Maria was dragged away, screaming my name, until the heavy door slammed shut, cutting off her plea.

The first lash hit my back.

I bit my lip until it bled.

I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of screaming.

Instead, I focused on the island. I focused on the coordinates.

I just had to survive.

Three days later.

I was lying in my bed, my body throbbing.

My back was a landscape of fire.

I hadn't eaten since that night.

The door opened, and Jameson walked in.

He didn't ask how I was.

Without a word, he threw a dress on the bed.

"Get up," he said. "We're going on the yacht."

"I can't move," I whispered, my throat dry.

"Haleigh wants a family barbecue," he said, his tone final. "She wants to forgive you. You will be there."

It wasn't a request.

Fighting the agony, I put on the dress.

It was long-sleeved and high-necked.

Designed to hide the bruises.

Designed to hide their shame.

The yacht was docked at the private marina.

The sun was shining brightly.

It was a beautiful day for a torture session.

Haleigh was lounging on the deck, looking pristine in a bikini.

She looked perfect.

"Bailey!" she chirped, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. "I'm so glad you came. I told Jameson we couldn't leave you behind."

She winked at me.

She knew.

She knew I had taken her punishment.

The brothers were grilling steaks nearby.

They acted like nothing happened.

Like they hadn't whipped their sister in a basement only three days ago.

I sat on a bench, far away from them.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, and the sky turned gray.

A sudden squall hit the harbor, causing the boat to rock violently.

"Whoa!" Derrick yelled.

The heavy gas grill on the stern wasn't secured properly.

The boat lurched hard.

The grill tipped over.

Hot coals spilled across the teak deck, and the propane tank hissed.

A wall of fire erupted.

And I was sitting right next to it.

The flames caught the hem of my dress.

Cheap synthetic fabric.

It didn't just burn; it melted instantly.

"Help!" I screamed.

I batted frantically at the flames climbing up my legs.

"Haleigh!" Jameson shouted.

He wasn't looking at me.

Haleigh had fallen off her lounge chair.

She had a small scratch on her knee.

"My knee!" she cried. "Jameson, it hurts!"

Jameson, Derrick, Blake, and Kane.

All four of them rushed to Haleigh.

They formed a human shield around her.

They turned their backs on the fire.

They turned their backs on me.

I was burning.

The heat seared my skin.

The smell of burning hair and flesh filled my nose.

They didn't even look.

They were too busy checking Haleigh's knee.

I realized then, as the fire ate through my clothes, that I was already dead to them.

I rolled onto the deck in desperation.

I screamed, but the wind swallowed the sound.

Or maybe they just chose not to hear it.