Page 100 of Heartless Mafia Prince 2: Rocco & Ryah

How could Dad betray me like this? I never thought I’d have to escape my parents.

I washed my hands, discarded the paper towel, then held onto the IV poll as I opened the door.

Stone faced; Mom stood glaring at me. My heart plummeted to my feet. Did she hear my conversation? Did she call Dad? So many questions ran through my mind, all while keeping a pained look on my face.

“Who were you talking to?”

I dropped my head. “Me,” I paused.

“This is so embarrassing. I gave myself a pep talk to get off the toilet. I was in so much pain.” Leaning on the poll, I peeked up at her through my long lashes.

“Ryah, you should’ve told me you wanted to go to the bathroom.”

“No, Mom. I needed to try.” I waved my hand for her to step aside.

“I’ll make it back on my own.” I winced, as I slowly walked back to the bed.

“How does he expect me to walk down the hall? I can barely go to the bathroom.”

She walked beside me. “Ryah, you’ll build up your strength.”

“I hope so. Walking across campus will be a nightmare. It will take thirty-minutes instead of ten.”

She chuckled.

Sitting on the bed, I rolled over, clutching the back of the gown to cover my exposed ass.

Mom pulled the blanket over me. “Get some rest. Your meal will be here around eight.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

She kissed my head as my face hit the pillow.

I was eager to meet the new guys. My very own crew. They’d follow my orders, not Dads.

My eyelids felt heavy, and my hand slipped over the edge of the bed as I dozed off.

“You can’t sit here. The waiting room is downstairs,” Art growled.

One eye popped open, and I watched Mom turn her head to the door. I glanced at the food tray sitting on the table. It must’ve been after eight a.m.

“We’re here on Dominic Magarelli’s orders. That means, we aren’t going anywhere.”

My lips tipped up just as Mom faced me.

Her eyes widened. “I knew you were talking to someone earlier.” She jumped out of her chair, chest heaving.

“What have you done, Ryah?”

I sat up straight and winced as my bare feet touched the cold floor. Pain tore through my belly.

“Doing what had to be done,” I hissed.

Limping to the door, I clenched the back of the gown shut, leaning on the IV poll. Sunlight peeked through the clouds, and slivers of light darted through the window. I smiled through the pain at the thought of hope.

Mom grabbed my arm, forcing our eyes to meet. “What does that mean?”

“I, Ryah Conti, am releasing Art and Smitty, the men who worked for me,” I shouted.

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