From Unread To Cherished: My Mafia Second Chance

y mafia Capo boyfriend's ba

I accidentally swiped i

to every single voice message I ha

, my unwavering love, and my midnight pl

op was a chat with his fe

mplaint she made about her bitter coffee

ied from a ruptured appen

ing for a doctor, but he only typed a

hen Sophie cried over a burst water pipe i

and call

he pouring rain and

erent. He used to listen. But som

ceived myself, thinking his quick replies meant he was

meant absolutely nothing to him, while her trivial off

, my heartbreak suddenly vanished, r

ked a single black suitcase, an

m, we a

d message, and walked out t

pte

a P

ct my mafia Capo boyfriend's secondary phone to its charging

e beside every last voice message I had

d utterly

ly above another thread-a fully consumed, sixty-second co

utable notion began to ferment in my gut, bit by bit devouring what little hope I had left: if I did not pack my bags and find my way out of this European manor, with its twenty

ny man. He was a Capor

pon shipments at the docks, and determined the blood

rmies-a ruthless rising star whose

hich had drawn me in seven years ago, back when he was just a fo

our heavily guarded estate, ho

to confirm his backup device held a sufficie

ped on the polished scr

I accidentally swiped into his

ddenly lodged itself in my windpipe; the act of swallowing was forcibl

he glass, was my chat

mb moving mechanically,

t him over the past five years was m

eds o

my most private thoughts, my noc

m had ever

ad audio file, there wa

erst

good

ith the

lexus, pulling so tight it seemed

bove the screen, the nail bed turning a dead, ashen w

ifted to the

tions, set in place above the Syndicate Boss a

ph

ate in the Family's legitimate

sickness rose in my throat,

creen was thick w

s a full, meanderin

gle one carri

d to every las

ed to stone, at his

ated. They were not

her in meticulous,

rs to drive you home, t

bistro you mentioned

in my mind, but in my stomach, a c

office drama could move the most ruthless C

p in the dead of night only recei

fee table. It made a sharp, def

the cushions, a dead weight, while my th

icturing the black suitcase stowed i

ck, to leave a heavy

chat thread a final time, and press the micr

chitecture of his betrayal held me in p

ight, I would never escape his control clea

ing the seconds in my head as the world I

n

w

re

sage I would send him w

erst

at single, aseptic wo

ollapse, a sudden, chilling se

d been pressing on my ribs for

thin, bri

ot listened to