Page 43 of Broken Mafia Bride

A cool breeze floats over me, and goosebumps rise up on my skin. I make a mental note to dress Noemi in her sweater. I step back into the house and shut the door, nearly running into Marco.

He grips me by the waist, steadying me when I almost lose my footing. His gaze takes in the empty foyer. “The new neighbor has left already?”

“Yeah, it was odd, she just disappeared.” I shrug. “Maybe she got a call and had to run. Did you manage to get Noemi dressed?”

“I couldn’t find her.”

I roll my eyes. “Did you check her pillow fort?”

His eyebrows furrow. “It was the first place I looked.”

My heart skips a beat, but I tell myself that it’s nothing. She’s probably playing one of her hide-and-seek games.

“Baby, I’m not playing around, you better come out here this second!” I call. “I’m not in the mood to play around, Noemi. I’m already late for work, you’re late for school, and Marco is going to miss his flight.”

“I’ll check my closet,” Marco informs me and walks off.

Letting out a tired sigh, I head to check the living room. The moment I spot the pillow fort under the dining table, achill creeps down my spine. Something’s off. My daughter—so particular, so precise—would never build something this messy. I freeze, my breath caught in my throat.

The pillow fort is lopsided, one side crumpled like it had been trampled in a rush. Panic slams into my chest like a freight train. Something’s not right.

Something’s very, very wrong.

“Noemi!” I scream, the name ripping out of my throat like a raw wound. “Marco! Marco!”

He comes running, eyes wide. “What happened?”

“She’s gone!” I choke out, voice cracking. “Something’s wrong, something’s fucking wrong!”

“Wait—maybe she’s hiding, maybe she just?—”

I spin on him, jabbing a shaking finger at the fort. “Look at it! That’s not her mess. Someone took her, Marco!”

His face drains of color. “The neighbor,” he mutters, already bolting for the door.

I tear after him, feet pounding against the earth as we sprint through the forest path. My breath comes in jagged gasps. The trees blur past me. My vision stings with tears, my legs barely holding me upright.

We burst through the clearing—and my worst nightmare solidifies.

The house is as deserted as it’s always been, the heavy padlock sealing the front door. Nelly doesn’t live here, nobody does. She’s not the new cheerful neighbor.

I don’t know who the fuck she is, but I know she has my daughter.

My knees buckle, and I collapse onto the dirt, a guttural, animal scream ripping out of me, shaking the leaves from the trees. The sound barely registers in my ears—there’s only one thought blaring in my mind:

She’s gone. And I let it happen.

Marco stares at the empty porch, his expression slack with disbelief.

“What the fuck—” he breathes, staggering back a step like the realization just punched him in the chest. “She… she played us. She fucking played us.”

His voice breaks halfway through, and then he’s shouting “Noemi! Noemi!” like she might somehow still be here, hiding, waiting.

“She’s really gone,” I whisper, my throat raw.

“We’ll find her, Giulia. I won’t let anything happen to her. It’s gonna be all right—” he tries again, but I cut him off, reeling.

“Don’t you fucking say that,” I choke, gripping my sides as pain claws its way up my chest. “Don’t stand there and lie to me. I let her in—I opened the goddamn door for her. I watched her smile and chat and I let her walk into our lives like it was nothing!”