Page 68 of Mafia King's Forbidden Vows

“Don’t be,” my voice is unusually stiff, “some people are fated for misfortune even before birth. I was unlucky to be one of them. I left the house when I was fourteen because I couldn’t take it anymore. Every time I walked around that table, I saw my mom lying there with her brains spilled all around.”

She sniffles, taking a palm to cover her nose and mouth to prevent the sobs from blowing over into wails.

“Ezra found me years later while I was picking food from a garbage can. I started out as his guard and worked my way up to his second-in-command before he finally handed the empire over to me upon his retirement.”

Aria reaches out to place an arm around my shoulders, wiping tears off her cheeks with the other hand. “Listen, you can’t blame yourself for any of this. You’ve always been more than enough—your dad just made some really bad choices. Bad stuff happens to good people sometimes, but that’s all in the past now.”

I smile…a faux, empty one, as I place my arms around her slender back.

Perhaps I’m way bigger than my father’s abuse now, but shadows of the past still loom over me like unappeased evil spirits.

They made me who I am today…ruthless and unforgiving.

Chapter twenty-two

Aria

Our shoes knock endlessly on the tiled floors as we make our way to the DA’s office.

Finally!

I nearly whooshed when Samantha told me she would be heading up here today. This is just the news I needed to hear, especially since I’ve been worrying my head off, wondering what Elio and my father must have spoken about while I was in the kitchen.

Any mistake and my father’s eagle eyes would have deciphered that my relationship with Elio is fake.

Since Dad hasn’t said anything yet or requested to see me urgently, my guess is that Elio probably didn’t mess up and Dad believes that our relationship is real.

As for Joan, I haven’t bugged her about docket systems throughout the past weeks. But I’ve been plotting. And in each plot, I need access to login to the internal docket system. I still haven’t gotten access, but today, I’m seizing the chance, without Joan’s or anyone’s knowledge, to shadow Samantha and find something.

Samantha makes her way briskly ahead of me as if she cannot wait to be in and out of that damned office. Her blonde hair is pulled into a tight bun, a few stray strands clinging to her forehead where sweat is beginning to bead. The DA had called and asked that she bring some case files he forgot to the courtroom, and I quickly followed, hiding under the guise of an intern’s curiosity.

This is the only chance I can actually get to find solid evidence on that bastard Pascal.

My eyes dart around the office space, taking in the dull gray walls, the gleaming fluorescent lights, and the rows of closed office doors. My pulse thuds in my ears, but I keep my face composed. She should feel it any minute now.

“You shouldn’t be here, so stay close,” she says under her breath, her words clipped. Her hand tightens on the coffee cup I handed her earlier.

“You’re overthinking it, Sam,” I reply, my tone breezy, though my stomach churns with guilt. “Just say you quickly needed me to help. Who’s going to care?”

She presses her lips together but doesn’t argue. Her focus is divided now, her steps faltering slightly.

The coffee is working.

This wasn’t the best option; I didn’t want to do this. Samantha has been nothing but kind to me since I started at the DA’s office. But I really need this moment, this opportunity, and she would never let me take it on her watch.

A pang of regret flickers through me as I notice the sheen of sweat above her upper lip. “You okay?” I ask, feigning concern.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she shakes her head. “I don’t feel… great. Must be something I ate…” She stops mid-sentence, doubling over slightly, her hand pressing against her stomach.

I reach out, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. “Sam?”

She grimaces, her face contorting into a series of creased lines. “I need… I need the restroom. Now.”

My heart races, but I force a look of sympathy. “Go. I’ll get the file for you.”

Her hesitation is brief. “It’s on the desk. Don’t touch anything else, Aria.” Her words are forced, and out of desperation, she turns around, hurrying to the restroom, clutching her stomach.

She disappears around the corner before I step into the DA’s office, my hands trembling slightly.

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