Page 72 of Dark Mafia Vows

The image of Ginny in a hospital bed, pale and fragile, shoots through my mind like a nightmare. I can’t handle that. I’ve barely started letting her in, and the thought of her leaving tears me apart.

I close my eyes, and suddenly, I’m seventeen again, back in that cold, sterile hospital room with my mother. The soft, rhythmic beeping of machines fills the room. She’s trying to smile at me, but her face is so tired, so worn from the sickness.

We were watchingFriends, her favorite show. Joey said something funny, and she laughs. But then the laughter turns into violent coughing, so hard I thought she was choking.

Panic flooded me, and the nurses rushed in, her hand squeezing mine, weak and frail. My father burst into the room moments later, alerted to the emergency. His eyes mirrored mine—helpless, broken, afraid.

That same helplessness claws at me now, just like it did back then. My chest tightens, my throat feels like it’s closing up. I can’t lose Ginny. Not her. I’ve already lost too much, and I know—Iknow—I’m not strong enough to go through that kind of pain again.

I might not lose her to something tragic or out of my control, but that doesn’t mean I won’t push her away with my constant hot and cold behavior. The way I keep pulling her close, then shutting her out—it’s not fair to her. It’s not fair tous.

Trapping her in this marriage, forcing her into a life with someone like me... It was never the right step. And if I don’t change, if I don’t start doing better, I’ll lose her.

I’m going to start now. For her. For me. For whatever this thing is between us that’s growing stronger every day.

Because losing her? That’s a pain I wouldn’t survive.

I push away from the desk, unable to breathe. I need to see her. I need to be near her.

The drive back to my house is a blur, my hands gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles ache. I almost told her this morning while she slept. The words were right there, lingering on my lips. But I held back. Fear—a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time—clawed at my chest, whispering that I had time. That I could tell her later.

Now? Now, it feels like every second I don’t say it is wasted.

I drive into the compound and pull into the driveway, my eyes instantly drawn to her window. The soft glow of her bedroom light spills out onto the garden, casting shadows across the flowers below. My heart pounds hard against my ribs as I cut the engine, but I don’t move right away. I sit there, gripping the steering wheel, my breath heavy, my chest tight.

I need to calm down. I need to think. But all I can feel is the urgency building in me, the sense that this moment is different. Thatthisis the moment everything changes.

Finally, I step out of the car, and the cool night air greets me, brushing against my skin. As I walk toward the front door, each step feels heavier, like the weight of the past is pressing down on me, trying to drag me back to where I’ve always been—guarded, distant, untouchable.

But everything in me is screaming that this I should bury it all—the pain, the old wounds, the fear I’ve carried for too long.

Before it’s too late.

31

GINEVRA

I’ve been lying in my bedroom all day, locked away in my room. Rosa knocked a couple of times, her soft voice filtering through the door, asking if I wanted something to eat. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Except for the breakfast I forced myself to eat this morning, I don’t think I can stomach anything else. Even the mere thought of it makes my stomach churn.

Everything feels too heavy. Too painful. Just when I thought what we had was real, just when I let myself fall for this man, I was brought crashing back to reality. There is no us.

Maybe all the sex and spending time with him because he took some days off made me delusional. Or maybe I just fell for his irresistible charm. But I’m back to my senses now. Nothing good, real, or genuine, can come out of a union built on revenge and blackmail.

So why does it still hurt?

I know all these things, so why does it still feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest? I think about the text again, and I wonder if there are other women other than her. Other women he meets up with in his office, their office, a hotel room, his bedroom...

Of course there are.

The weight of this sham marriage presses down on me, harder now, more than I expected it would. Surely, at some point during our marriage, Dario will get tired of pretending and show his true colors. He doesn’t even seem like the kind of man who would pretend, especially not for ten years.

When his flings come here, will I have to act as if nothing is happening? Will I be expected to ignore them and focus on performing my duties as a good wife instead? A shudder wracks through me at the thought.

Yes, I’m committed to keeping up appearances for the sake of the company. I owe my brother that much. But pretending with Dario—pretending this relationship is anything more than a business deal while he fucks other women is something I don’t think I’ll be able to handle.

Outside, I hear the muffled sounds of the house—footsteps of the domestic staff walking around, the faint rustle of wind against the windows, and above the wall hangs a wall clock that ticks loudly in the silent room.

My body curls deeper into the blankets, wishing the world around me would disappear.

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