Page 56 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

Curiosity piqued, I flip forward through the file, pages whispering against each other. My gaze sweeps over meticulously organized bank statements, credit reports splashed with red flags, and a detailed timeline that makes my stomach twist.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, scanning the list of women—five before Elena—with each name accompanied by dates, initial net worth, and final financial status. All financially stable when they met him. All left with significantly less money after he vanished.

“His first mark…he was barely eighteen to her fifty, and she was his foster mother’s best friend?” Anton nods as I grimace. If I couldn’t see what a swindler he is, I’d wonder at the woman’s lack of discernment and common sense, but a con artist can con just about anyone.

I trace a pattern of destruction across years, a predator’s hunting ground mapped in numbers and names. “He didn’t just stumble into Elena’s life. This was calculated. A professional con, just like we suspected.”

“He has a type,” says Anton, sipping his coffee. “Independent women with money and no family to interfere.”

I nod, continuing through the file until I reach the text message transcripts. These make my blood run cold.

Elena: I don’t think adding you to my account is necessary. We can keep finances separate.

Casey: Don’t you trust me? We’re living together. It’s what couples do.

Elena: I just prefer keeping things separate. My mom always taught me to maintain financial independence.

Casey: Your mom isn’t here anymore, and I’m not her. I thought we were building something together.

I flip through more exchanges, watching the manipulation unfold over months. Casey never directly asked for money. He was smarter than that. Instead, he worked on her insecurities, made her feel guilty for not trusting him, and positioned himself as the victim.

Elena: I’m sorry for being difficult about the bank account. You’re right, we’re partners.

Casey: It’s okay, babe. I just want what’s best for us. This way I can help with bills when you’re busy with rotations.

“He knew exactly what he was doing,” I say, looking up at Anton.

“Keep reading.” Anton leans forward. “The timeline shows he researched her mother’s death and the inheritance before they even started dating. It started right after she treated him in the ER following his ‘mugging.’ He targeted her deliberately after that. We knew it, but now, there’s proof.”

I turn to the surveillance photos. Casey with another woman at a hotel, dated just two weeks before he cleaned out Elena’s accounts. The woman is blonde, flashy, and wearing expensive clothes Elena could never afford on a student budget that she maintained to ensure her inheritance covered her education without resorting to loans.

“Who’s she?” I ask.

“Tiffany Mendez. Cocktail waitress at The Royal Flush Casino. One of Nikolai’s places. They’ve been seeing each other for months. She thought Casey was single.”

I close the file, my jaw tight. “And now he wants Elena back.”

“Maybe, or maybe, he’s doing what Nikolai tells him. Either way, he’s desperate,” says Anton. “He blew through her money in three months. Gambling debts, luxury purchases, and trips with Tiffany in addition to paying off our casino and some of what he owed Nikolai. Now Nikolai’s people are pressuring him to earn his keep. I haven’t found proof yet, but I’m sure what we think is true is the case. He’s noticed the former connection between your wife and the piece of shit, so he’s putting him in position to get information or whatever from or about Elena to get to you.”

“So, he comes crawling back to Elena, hoping she’ll take him back, but she doesn’t. Or, he projects that as his intent to get close to her again to do Nikolai’s bidding?” I don’t like either option and intend to put a stop to this immediately.

“Because she’s with you.” Anton studies me. “What are you planning to do with him?”

“Nothing yet. I want Elena to see him for what he is first. She knows, but now, she can see the proof.” I give him a crooked smile. “She’s already asked me to destroy him, up to the point of death. I can’t kill him, but that’s her only limit.”

“Then we have our work ahead of us. Good times destroying garbage like that one.”

I nod at his grin while walking to the safe hidden behind a moderately priced painting on my office wall, chosen so it doesn’t stand out or garner attention. Moving it aside, I enter the combination. “I have something for her.”

The safe clicks open, and I remove a small velvet box. Inside rests a necklace with a delicate platinum chain and emeralds surrounded by diamonds in a vintage setting.

Anton’s eyes widen. “Is that?—”

“My mother’s. One of the last things she sold before selling me.”

Anton knows the story. Everyone in my inner circle does. My parents sold everything of value to cover my father’s gambling debts, including me, eventually. This necklace was one of the first things to go.

“How did you find it?” asks Anton.

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