Waking Up To The Mafia Don's Betrayal

The safe house was a small, nondescript brownstone in Brooklyn that Dante kept for storage. I retrieved the key hidden under a loose brick in the alley.

I stepped inside. It smelled of dust and the stale, heavy air of old memories.

I went to the closet where I had stored Leo's things before the accident. And there I found it.

The stuffed dog. Mr. Barks. It was missing an eye, and the fur was matted from years of love. Leo used to sleep with it every night. He wouldn't close his eyes without it.

I held it to my chest, inhaling the scent of baby powder that still lingered faintly, a ghost of the past five years.

The front door opened.

I froze.

Leo walked in. He was alone. He must have slipped away from the nanny in the car outside, driven by some twisted curiosity.

He saw me. He saw the dog.

His face twisted into a scowl that looked far too old for his features.

"Give me that!" he shouted.

He ran at me and snatched the dog from my hands.

"Leo," I said softly. "I bought you that. Remember? You named him."

He glared at the toy, then at me.

"Mama Sofia says you put a curse on this," he spat. "She says everything you touch turns to poison."

He didn't just drop the dog.

He grabbed a glass of grape juice that had been left on the table by a guard earlier that day.

He poured it over the toy. The purple liquid soaked into the beige fur, staining it like fresh blood.

Then, he grabbed the dog by the legs and ripped. The old stitching gave way. Stuffing exploded into the air like dirty snow.

"I hate you!" he screamed, throwing the ruined carcass at my feet. "I wish you stayed dead! Why did you come back? We were happy!"

The juice splattered onto my shoes.

I looked at my son.

I looked for the baby I had nursed. I looked for the toddler who used to cry when I left the room.

He wasn't there.

Sofia had done a thorough job. She hadn't just stolen my husband; she had rewritten my son's soul.

If I took him now, he would hate me. He would fight me every step of the way. He would be a poison in the new life I was trying to build.

To save him, I had to let him go. I had to destroy the structure that had corrupted him before I could ever hope to rebuild him.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

I bent down and wiped the purple stain from my shoe.

I stood up. My face felt like it was carved from marble.

"Goodbye, Leo," I said.

I didn't try to hug him. I didn't cry.

I walked past him, out the door, and into the night.

I left the door open behind me.

I was done being the victim. I was done being the mother.

Kate Harding was born in that hallway. And she had work to do.