Page 7 of Mafia And Maid

I drop the polish and rag into my basket. Each breath isn’t bringing enough oxygen to my lungs. My chest heaves, but it’s on fire with every movement.

Gently, I push against my side, ignoring the loathing that washes over me whenever I feel the plumpness of my figure.

And when I reach a particular area, I nearly scream when my fingers gently push at the rib. White hot pain blinds me, and I grasp at the counter to stay up. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

I need a doctor. One who won’t ask the wrong questions. One who doesn’t report back to my husband. One whose help won’t mean that my husband ends my life before it ever really gets to begin.

I’ve been bruised and beaten so many times, but always in places that won’t draw attention. My stomach, my back, my arms, my thighs. Anything to keep prying eyes from asking too many questions.

I fumble with a bottle of aspirin, watching as the bottle rattles from my grasp and tumbles to the counter. Sucking in a sharp breath, I gather the pills I can reach, trying to put them back into the bottle.

Swallowing two pills, I stumble up the stairs, praying I don’t wake him up. Praying that I can make it to Ethan’s room.

By some miracle, I do, slowly edging the door open and closed without a sound. Ethan is in a ball under his covers, his favorite stuffed toy, Bernie Bear, clutched to his chest as his face buries into the fur.

My heart breaks for him. And a pained sound escapes me before I can stop it.

His big brown eyes, which are so like mine, widen as he wakes.

I grit my teeth, putting on my best smile. But the image of him recoiling away from his father flashes before me.

My mind moves before my body. Instantly, a checklist forms in my head.

I hold Ethan’s watery gaze before turning toward his closet and throwing it open. Frantically, I pull out the small backpack we bring to the park and hastily shove what I can fit into it. A few outfits, a spareblanket, a book or two. I grab another empty bag, put in a few more items, and sling it over my arm despite the way my body protests.

I wish I could get some of my own clothes too, but I can’t risk going back into the master bedroom and waking up Grayden.

I press my finger to my lips and motion Ethan to me, unwilling to make a single sound that might lead to us being caught.

My plan is hazy and wild. It’s only partially formed, but I hang on to it for dear life.

Ethan slips his arms into a light jacket and then into the straps of the backpack.

Kissing his head, I clutch his tiny hand in mine, pull the hood over his head, and move as fast as I can to the door.

Ethan stares at me, his brow puckered and confused.

I squeeze his hand in reassurance as I let the door click softly shut behind us. Moving despite the agony in my ribs, I will myself to make it down the stairs without a sound.

In the kitchen, my fingers fumble with my purse as I hastily throw it over my shoulder. Each step sends another wave of pain through me. But if we don’t leave, we’ll both end up dying here.

Outside, the chilly night air energizes me. I hurry down the long winding drive, through the gate, and into the luxurious neighborhood. It isn’t until I’m gasping for breath that I pause for a moment, bracing myself against the wall of the nearest building.

Taking a deep breath, I clutch my side and keep walking, Ethan’s hand firmly in mine.

I wish I could run back to my family. But my father will be furious when he discovers I’ve left Grayden—he married me off to him because he wanted an alliance with the powerful Devlin family.

Should I try to appeal to my mother? I shake my head. She will only tell me that we have to do what Father wants—and he’ll order me to go back to my husband.

I have few friends. My family largely kept me sheltered at home while I was growing up, going so far as to having me homeschooled, due to their desire to keep their children out of the public eye—except for when it came to that ridiculously over-the-top wedding. And since my marriage, Grayden has made sure to keep me as isolated as possible.

After what seems like an age, we’ve walked to the area we need. It’s here somewhere, I know it…

My eyes fill with tears as the clinic’s sign comes into view. I saw a poster for this place when I took Ethan for his pediatrician check.

I jump at the sound of something tipping over in the alley beside us, but then I tell myself that Grayden will still be out cold and it’s far too early for him to notice that we’re missing.

This is the right choice. An ER would notify Grayden. And the family doctor is paid by Grayden. Those options won’t keep us safe.

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