Page 147 of My Mafia King

The door hits the wall when I push through.

I first notice that everything is in order, which says a lot about her state of mind. There is no trashing anything, which usually is a sign that things are flying off the handle.

I check the nightstands, the drawers, and her closet.

A sigh of relief falls from my lips when I find her expensive necklace tucked neatly in its box. That necklace alone tells me more than anyone else could.

She’s not a thief.

And she’s not gone for good. I don’t think so. If she is, it’s not through her own volition.

I know how much she needs the money, and after tonight, she might get it if I find her, and she can prove to me that she has nothing to do with all the bad things that have come my way.

There is no easier way to get out of here than grabbing that necklace and trading it for a pittance of money that would be enough to solve her family problems.

She is not gone.

She is out––I try to tell myself.

Of all the hard choices that I have to make, she shouldn’t be one of them.

I just don’t want to be forced to do something bad to her.

I spin around and go through her things in the closet again. Up on the shelf, I find a shoe box, and inside, I find most of the cash I’ve given her.

Another sigh of relief leaves my chest.

This girl wouldn’t have left without her money.

I’m glad I can cross that off the list.

Let’s make sure my beautiful girl is not someone’s prop, mole, or tool.

I would be extremely disappointed. And that would be a horrible ending for her if, in fact, she hadn’t run into me by mistake.

If I’d been set up way before I started to think I was set up.

If that’s the situation I’m dealing with, I have to say my enemies have gotten way more brazen and smarter.

Still, if she’s someone’s tool, she wouldn’t bring all this fire onto her. She wouldn’t want me to suspect something was wrong.

She wouldn’t disregard my instructions.

And that brings me to my next point.

Why the fuck would she do that?

She has nothing to gain and everything to lose.

What’s going on in her head?

What made her walk out? She knows she’s not safe. I thought she’d known better than that.

I exit her space and go to the living room. A half-empty cup sits on the table.

All right.

She came upstairs, had coffee, and then what?

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