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Her husband had decided to run in the wrong circles and lost his life, but yet, somehow, I was the one to blame, as if I were just as guilty for taking his life as Nico was.
My head hurt. I couldn’t win with Mya. Everything I did was wrong. Every choice I made she questioned.
The lack of trust between us could possibly destroy what I was trying to build for us. Didn’t she see that?
That evening she didn’t sleep in the bedroom with me. The following day, she avoided eating all her meals with me and instead, ate in various other locations in the house. I would watch her walk by and she would pretend not to even notice me.
It reminded me of our first days as man and wife, when she pretended that I didn’t exist. It didn’t feel any better now than it did then.
I felt desperate now. All my emotions and natural inclinations told me to keep her close. What if this was the straw that broke the camel’s back? What if that letter ruined everything that we could have together?
What if she ran away and got hurt? What if I couldn’t reach her in time and someone hurt her and the baby?
At this point, I couldn’t imagine life without her. The mere idea made me sick to my stomach. I would never tell her that, though.
I had to keep my distance. It was better this way. Too many emotions involved would mean someone would get hurt.
I thought about Jason’s letter over and over. Who had given it to Mya? I went through the security videos and realized that it had been placed there by one of the kitchen staff, or at least someone dressed as the kitchen staff.
Their face had been turned away, so I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. I’d interviewed the entire staff and had their background records pulled, but didn’t find any hint of the person who had left that envelope for Mya to find.
I hated that the letter existed. Deep down, I knew that even if I had seen and read it, the chances that I would have helped Jason were slim. I wasn’t in the business of helping others.
I knew who I was. I understood that people died because of me. I’d placed hits. I’d done things that some would think were unspeakable. But I had done what was necessary.
I’d built an empire and was respected for it. Many would find fault with who I was and the things I’d done, but they weren’t in my shoes.
I had my own moral code, and normally, I didn’t give a fuck about what others thought. But I felt like shit every time Mya looked at me with disappointment in her eyes or worse, looked at me like I wasn’t even human.
Sometimes…I swore that I saw pity in her eyes, and that made me even angrier. I wasn’t to be pitied—I was to be feared. Respected. And when I looked at her, I saw none of those things.
I pressed on, but it was unsettling. My own wife couldn’t stand the sight of me. The life that I built had her in harm’s way.
I had told myself that day in the hospital that I would do better, change her life for the better, and find a way out of the mess I had created, but the power I had as a Mafia kingpin was heady.
Waking up in the morning, knowing that the power of life and death was in my hands, along with more money than anyone could dream of, was like a drug.
For Mya, I had to be better. For our child, I had to be better, but I felt like there was a little devil on one of my shoulders and an angel on the other giving advice. And so far, the devil was winning.
I’d made plans and even started moving money, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. I couldn’t let it all go. At least not yet, and that made me feel like shit.
Briefly, I wondered if Jason had felt that same dilemma when he decided to get involved with my brother…a man who wanted my empire so badly he was willing to kill others for it.
Jason had walked into a snake pit, not even knowing it. He should have walked away a lot earlier, but instead, he’d gotten himself killed. He had trusted the wrong people, miscalculated the situation, and now he was dead.
Was I guilty of the same? Someone was helping my brother to try to kill me. Was it Ivan or Joseph? How soon before they succeeded?
Those thoughts echoed in my mind constantly. I had to stop this. I had to find another way. Too many lives that were precious to me were at stake.
I’d spent so many sleepless nights wondering if my mother had really committed suicide or if her death was a warning to my father…or maybe it had been revenge because he’d fucked over the wrong person.
In my mind’s eye, I could see my mother’s body, limp at the bottom of the cliff. I could feel the disbelief all over again, and then the pain. She was gone. The one person I loved in life had died, and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it.
I’d been an angry young adult then when my psychologist had said I was suffering from survivor’s remorse. I hadn’t cared for him to explain anything to me, so I hadn’t gone back.
I just knew that I hadn’t been able to save my mom, but I’d be damned if I let the same thing happen to Mya.
And I sure wasn’t going to make Mya a widow again. I swore right then and there, I wouldn’t make Jason’s mistake or my father’s. I would protect those who were vulnerable. I would protect Mya and our baby, and I would protect myself because Mya didn’t deserve to have to mourn again.