Too Late, Sir: We Left You

Chapter 3

Word Count: 737 | Released on: Today at 18:10

were closing around my lungs, sl

scent of Valeria's floral perfume clung to his lapel, a cloying note ag

side, the cardboard box scraping h

tening as he tried to bridge the physical gap between us. "I kn

mfor

on of my marriage and his blatant be

s locking onto mine with an intense, unwavering sincerity. "It is my duty to a dead Ca

eloping mine. He pressed my palm flat against the solid, warm

ed solemnly. "I will step back. I swear to you, Siena, I will nev

seeped through the fa

still bearing the traces of his enemies' blood, swearing a sacred oath that his violent world would never touch me. I rememb

s own lies. That was th

is chest, and the sudden los

opened my mouth to tell him that the severance papers were real, that the

-" I s

plica?" Dante ab

dying on my tongue before

s gaze sweeping around the living room. "The o

aid slowly, a knot formi

timepiece on his wrist. "

k me with the force of

fresh wound he was inflicting. "He saw a picture of Leo's replica on my phone and begged for one. I w

spered, my voice trembling with a low

d. "Leo is strong. He unders

wn the hall, and entered Leo's bedroom. He emerged a min

eks for Dante to have a free evening so the

Dante said, grabbing the keys to

anding quietly in the shadows of the hallway, watching his father

shut, its heavy bolts sealin

our home. I looked at the empty space

, finally finishing my interrupted senten

Chapter End

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Too Late, Sir: We Left You

L. FITZGERALD Mafia

“I was married to the city's most feared Mafia Boss, but for the past four years, his true priority was always the widow of his fallen Capo. He claimed it was his sacred duty to protect her and her son. But this duty meant missing our seven-year-old son's birthday, giving my boy's custom-made present to the widow's child, and abandoning us every time she shed a fake tear. Over thirty agonizing days, I meticulously taught my son to sever his emotional bond with his father. I instructed him to stop saying 'Dad' and start addressing the Don coldly as 'Sir'. Blinded by his haste to rush back to the widow's side, my husband didn't even read the complex Syndicate documents I placed in front of him. He unknowingly signed away his full custodial rights and authorized our permanent relocation. He actually believed he could keep us waiting in his gilded cage while systematically destroying every promise he ever made to his own flesh and blood. How could a man who once swore to set the world on fire for our family become so ruthlessly blind to his own son's quiet grief? Today, the thirty-day irrevocable execution window officially closed. "I never want to see the Boss again, Mom. Let's go." As the Don sped off to deal with yet another of the widow's manufactured emergencies, I took my son and boarded an untraceable private jet, leaving the Boss to return to a completely empty home.”