Mafia Puppet

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21 | going home

"SILVIO, HOW MUCH longer?" she had asked. A man sat beside her and it made her uncomfortable. Apparently, in his car, they had spilled some water on the seats and that led to her bodyguard sitting beside her. They thought it was good protection. It probably was.

Francesca had been very uncomfortable, especially being so close to a male. It suffocated her and she felt as if she was doing something wrong. That was all she was taught. Stay away from men.

Silvio hid his groan with an inaudible sigh but Francesca had caught it but she didn't bother commenting. Silvio knew that the Don's wife was uncomfortable. The distress was written on her face and she didn't even bother to hide it. He felt bad for Rocky, the man sitting beside her. The poor man had to face the consequences of rejection from the Donna.

But it wasn't her fault. Every mafia wife was uncomfortable in the presence of another male so close by and Mrs. Giordano, obviously, didn't trust the poor man Rocky.

"Soon, ma'am," he responded. His voice had been small but it was loud in the quiet car. No one dared to make a sound and other than the bustling car of the night, there was no sound.

Until that couldn't be avoided.

The car had stalled at a red light and Francesca was close to closing her eyes and resting them a bit. But that was all it took for Rocky to pull her down harshly and fall over her. A bang was heard and a crimson liquid fell on her forehead as she banged her head on the seat up front. But the blood wasn't hers.

"Fuck! Donna! Rocky!" she had faintly heard Silvio's voice before she fell into a deep coma as firing rang around her.

• • •

My husband, obviously, wouldn't let any other male touch me but Antonio wasn't going to spoil his image in front of his men by helping me.

Or so, I thought.

My expression must've been humorous if not for the stoic people I was surrounded with. My husband had opened the door for me and before I could've got out, he cared me inside bridal-style. For a moment, it felt as if everything was normal. I felt as if I was just a normal housewife who had a mild headache and her newly wedded husband was bringing her to their room to care for.

Then, it all came crashing down. Mya gasped in surprise before following us as he walked inside and up the stairs, me still within his arms. My hands wrapped around his neck and from his shoulder, I could see Mya running with her short legs to catch up. The sight would've made me chuckle if not for the pounding ache in my head.

"I have some business to attend," said Antonio, surprising me. I gave him a small smile which he completely ignored and walked out, leaving an awkward Mya standing by the door.

Mya wasn't an old woman but neither was she too young. She looked to be in her mid-thirties but pretty nevertheless. I watched as she walked towards me, hesitantly.

"Are you okay? What happened?" She looked at me as if I was going to burst. It made me want to roll my eyes but I wasn't that dramatic.

I didn't answer her questions, knowing that I couldn't tell her. "Get my nightdress."

I was in a cranky mood for some apparent reason. It might be the drugs they sedated me. I was really tired and only wanted to sleep.

She did as I asked—well, ordered. I wasn't ashamed that she saw the skimpy clothing. She was probably used to it and I was too tired to care but I could see a blush on her cheeks. She was overreacting. I just couldn't bring myself to trust her.

"Help me change."

We left in a hurry once I was checked. Apparently, they didn't want to take any risks and no one bothered to get me another pair of clothes so I had worn the bloody dress. I was very lucky that I didn't bleed. The blood was of my bodyguards.

Mya quickly sauntered towards me as she helped me get inside the bathroom. My legs felt wobbly as I held Mya for help. She was a good woman but I didn't like her.

But that didn't mean I needed to be so mean. It was my problem that I didn't like her, not hers. "I am feeling a bit drowsy, thank you for asking."

Her eyes widened as if she hadn't expected it and then it turned into a look I was always familiar with. The pitiful look.

"Of course, that happens after a hard hit on the head. You'll feel that for a couple of days." She seemed much more comfortable around me and I was glad for some reason.

Though I didn't like her I was glad that she could trust me. She helped me strip out of my dress and put on the more comfortable clothing. I wasn't going to meet anyone right now anyway and I didn't mind Antonio seeing me like this. He has already seen it all so it didn't make a difference.

Through the mirror I caught Mya staring at the black dress I once had on with furrowed brows before looking at me. I knew what her question was.

"It's not mine. The blood I mean."

She nodded, even tenser. Her body became rigid as she realized that it could be the blood of my bodyguards or the opposing killers. "I hope the men are okay then," she mumbled, looking very disoriented.

"Yeah, but a few died," I told her as I did a loose braid. I didn't like sleeping with my hair out and keeping my hair in a bun wasn't something that would help my head.

Her eyes widened and I knew she had many questions but it wasn't her place to ask.

"Throw this away." I pointed at the dress. "I'm not going to wear it again."

I hated the things that reminded me of murders. This was the first time an attack occurred on me and I was glad I was out through most of it. It didn't surprise me. I had seen Father ordering murders and even killing people. It was the first horrid thing every mafia child saw and had to get used to. I was clearly no exception.

Mya humbly nodded before picking the clothing up, careful not to touch the bloody areas. I held onto her for support before making my way to the large bed. Every moment made my head hurt. It was like someone was pushing pressure on it and I felt extremely sore as if a lot of weight had fallen on me. She helped me lay on the bed as if I was some proclaim doll.

"Mrs. Giordano..." She hesitated. "Do you need something? Anything I could do to help you?"

I shook my head. "I just want to sleep. Can you give me a few painkillers?"

She nodded. "I will try to ask for your prescriptions and diet."

I wasn't really sure how things worked here. I've never had a maid. Father made Mother do everything and I mean, everything. I expected the same.

"Okay." I silently told her to leave and she got the hint because she quickly scurried away.

I felt odd that a woman at least ten years prior to me was scared of me but I also knew that everything came depending on one's status. I was just extremely lucky.

I was quick to fall asleep with the warm blanket covering my whole body, including my head. I was careful not to sleep on my forehead where I knew it would be swollen by tomorrow. Tiredness caught up to me and I didn't bother waiting for my husband.

I just fell asleep, hoping that I wouldn't regret it, yet a question lingered in my mind. How did she know of my injuries?

• • •

I was shaken awake with a kiss on my neck. My eyes pried open and met with the sight of Antonio, my dear husband. But there was something wrong. I could just feel it, literally.

He wasn't being rough. At first, I thought he wanted to sleep with me—not that I'd ever been able to stop him—but he pulled away once he realized that I was up.

He was in a suit, meaning he had already got ready for the new day. I felt lousy and like a bad wife. Mother always got up before Father and she had told me that to be on the best side of my husband and that I should always do as he liked.

"I'm sorry." I cupped a hand over my mouth before getting up. Well, trying to because my head spun as I groaned.

He held the back of my head as I was about to slump back down. "Careful," he spoke. "I need you down for breakfast. Get ready."

Once I was comfortable enough, he got up. Out of impulse, I grabbed his wrist. My eyes widened at the action as he stared down at me with narrowed eyes. I didn't dare hold onto him any longer.

"S-Sorry," I couldn't help but stutter. "I wanted to ask you something."

I thought he was going to leave but he only ended up walking towards the dressing table in the room. We had a walk-in closet but he usually put his next day clothes on the dresser in the room. I watched as he picked up his signature silver watch and blazer.

I just knew he was listening. "How long have you known Mya?"



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