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หน้าหลัก / Mafia / He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia / Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

ผู้เขียน: Heliotrope
I shoved him away and slapped him across the face.

The sound snapped through the room. Wilson froze. Chloe sobered up just enough to stumble off the sofa and come at me.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she shouted, hitting me across the cheek. “You do not put your hands on him.”

My face burned. I lifted my hand to hit her back, but Wilson caught my wrist in a grip that hurt.

He shoved me away. My lower back struck the door handle, sending pain up my spine.

Then he stepped in front of Chloe like I was the threat.

“She is drunk,” he said. “Are you seriously fighting with a drunk woman?”

Chloe leaned into him, sniffling. “Let her leave. There are prettier women in New York. You really think you will end up alone because of her?”

Wilson did not correct her. He only looked at me and said, ‘Go cool off. We will talk tomorrow.’

That was when I stopped making excuses for him. He knew exactly how much he hurt me, how close I was to breaking, and how little it took to pull me back before I finally walked away.

I left without another word.

That night, I checked into a nearby hotel and barely slept. By morning, my phone was flooded with messages.

Some people thought I was pulling an April Fools’ prank. Some told me not to make a scene just because I had not gotten a proposal. Wilson’s friends were less polite.

[Vivian, do not be ridiculous. Wilson is willing to coax you. That should be enough.]

[You are usually so understanding. Do not ruin the day.]

[You cannot leave him anyway. Why make it ugly?]

I answered none of them.

People only saw Wilson’s gentle side. They did not see the fourth anniversary, when he filled a room with flowers and candles, let me think he was proposing, then played a fake proposal video Chloe had edited to make me look desperate in front of everyone. They did not see the fifth anniversary, when he knelt with that trick ring and left me shaking in urgent care.

I opened Instagram without thinking.

Chloe had posted a nine-photo carousel. Wilson took her to a midnight movie, a rooftop bar, and an old arcade. In every picture, he looked relaxed. Happy. Like a man on an actual date.

He used to tell me those places were childish and a waste of time.

Now I knew they were only a waste of time with me.

A message from him appeared at the top of the screen.

[Do not get the wrong idea. I took her out to cool off. Come back to the penthouse when you can. She wants to apologize.]

Before I could lock the phone, another notification came through from the building concierge. The anniversary gift I had ordered had arrived at the penthouse.

A pair of black onyx cuff links. I had designed them myself, with his initials engraved on the back.

Fine. I would go once. The gift, the keys, the access card. I could return everything at the same time and leave the story clean.

When I reached the penthouse, the door was unlocked.

The second I stepped inside, two party poppers cracked inches from my face. Confetti burst across the room, champagne sprayed over my dress, and Chloe shouted in my ear.

“Surprise! Happy April Fools!”

I flinched back, half-blinded by glitter and camera flashes.

Chloe was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the center of the room. “Come on, Viv. Smile. This is your apology party.”

My heel slid on the champagne spilled across the marble floor and then I fell.

My chin struck the sharp corner of the console table. Pain burst white behind my eyes, and warm blood ran down my neck.

The room went silent.

Wilson rushed over and grabbed my shoulders. “Vivian? Vivian, look at me.”

Chloe’s smile finally slipped. “I did not push her. She slipped. It was just supposed to be a joke.”

Wilson didn’t even look at her.

I looked at Wilson through the blur, my mouth tasting like blood.

His hands shook as he pressed a napkin to my chin, his face draining of color.

“Call an ambulance,” he snapped. “Now.”

“Vivian, stay with me,” he said, pulling me against him like he could hold me there by force. “Please. Don’t close your eyes.”
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  • He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia   Chapter 9

    The night before April Fools the following year, an unknown New York number called me.I almost let it ring out. Then I answered.Wilson's voice came through rough and drunk. "Vivian."I said nothing."Tomorrow is our anniversary. Last year I said this was the year. I had it all planned, you know. The ring. The place by the water. The whole stupid speech." A glass clinked on his end. "You really left. Everyone said you'd come back. I said you'd come back. I thought if I found the right thing to say, you'd soften." “But you left. You really left.”I looked out over the dark garden. Down below, Luca was speaking with the night guards, his collar turned up against the wind."You still think leaving was one moment," I said. "It wasn't. I left in pieces, Wilson. Every joke took one. Every time you told me not to make a thing of it took one. Every time you comforted Chloe after she hurt me, another piece was gone. By the time I got on that plane, there wasn't enough of me left to stay."His

  • He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia   Chapter 8

    Wilson did not stop coming. Every Friday afternoon, he drove out to Long Island and parked beyond the Vescari gates. Sometimes he brought flowers, sometimes coffee from my old neighborhood, once a black forest cake that sagged in the rain before anyone touched it.The guards reported each visit at first. After the fourth week, Matteo only raised an eyebrow and said, "Your admirer has arrived.""He is not my admirer.""No," Matteo said dryly. "Admirers usually know when admiration is unwanted."I almost laughed, which was probably why he said it.Chloe lasted less than a month before she tried to turn herself into the victim. She posted a tearful video online, all smudged mascara and shaking voice, claiming I had used family connections to ruin her life over one harmless joke. She said Wilson had been like a brother to her. She said I had lied about being ordinary just to make them look foolish.For an hour, people bought it. Then the Vescari lawyers moved. The video vanished. So did tw

  • He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia   Chapter 7

    The Vescari estate was awake when I came home. My father was waiting on the front steps when I came home.Alessio Vescari had silver at his temples and the kind of stillness that made rooms behave. People called him ruthless, and they were not wrong, but when his eyes landed on the gauze at my chin and the bruise blooming along my cheek, ruthless became personal.When he saw the gauze on my chin, his eyes went dark. “Who did this?”Matteo Russo took my luggage from the driver. “The doctor is waiting upstairs, Miss.”My father came down one step and adjusted my coat himself. “You don’t have to talk tonight. But my daughter does not come home bleeding and protect the people who made her bleed.”My throat tightened. For six years, I had told myself leaving proved I was strong. I had forgotten that real strength did not mean having no one behind you.“Wilson’s friends,” I said. “And Wilson let it happen.”My father did not raise his voice. That was how I knew he was furious.“No Hale, no M

  • He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia   Chapter 6

    The penthouse was silent when Wilson got there.Vivian’s slippers were gone from the entryway. Her books were missing from the side table. The bathroom counter had been cleared of her perfume, her lip balm, the little pearl hairpins he used to find everywhere. The closet held empty hangers where her dresses had been.In the kitchen trash, he found the paper sign he had taped up years ago.[Danger Zone. Vivian Not Allowed.]He picked it up and stared at the words until they blurred. He had made that sign after she burned herself trying to take care of him. Back then he had sworn he would keep anything that hurt away from her.Somehow, he had become the thing that hurt.On the coffee table sat a black gift box. Inside were the onyx cuff links she had designed for their anniversary. His initials were engraved on the back. Beside the box lay her keys, her access card, and the plain band she had dropped at the club.No note. That was worse than a note.Wilson called the hotel where she had

  • He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia   Chapter 5

    Wilson waited in the hospital room for ten minutes before the first real fear slid under his ribs.He kept looking at the door, then at his phone, then back at the bed she had left rumpled. He told himself Vivian was in the bathroom, or with a nurse, or cooling off somewhere because that was what she did. She got quiet. She walked away. Then she came back when he found the right words.Only this time, the room felt too empty.Chloe sat on the edge of the visitor chair, swinging one heel. “Where is she? If she takes much longer, I’m not doing the apology speech. I already said I didn’t push her.”Wilson looked at her. “You should apologize whether she comes back or not.”“Wow. Listen to you. Started as a bet, and now you’re acting like the grieving husband.”The words should have rolled off him. They always had before. Instead, they scraped.He remembered the small sound near the stairwell earlier, the soft brush of fabric. He had almost turned around, but Chloe had caught his sleeve an

  • He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia   Chapter 4

    I woke in the hospital with gauze on my chin and a throbbing ache along my cheekbone.A nurse told me I had needed stitches. Nothing life-threatening, she said, as if that should comfort me.Wilson sat beside the bed. When I opened my eyes, he grabbed my hand.“Viv, thank God. You scared me.”For one weak second, I almost believed he had finally seen me.Then he said, “Chloe didn’t mean for you to fall. She thought the bridal thing would make you laugh. You know how she is. She pushes too hard, but she didn’t mean to hurt you.”I stared at him until my eyes burned. “The biggest mistake I ever made was believing you would protect me.”His phone lit up before he could answer. Chloe’s name glowed on the screen.He stood too quickly. “I will be right back. Rest, okay?”When the door closed, the room went quiet enough for the truth to breathe.I pulled the IV tape from my hand, put on my coat, and walked toward the stairwell.Chloe’s voice drifted through the cracked door. “Stop acting like

  • He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia   Chapter 2

    Six years ago, Wilson asked me to be his girlfriend on the back steps of that same jazz bar.Back then, I was Vivian Gray, not Vivian Vescari.The Vescari name meant old money, locked doors, and men who smiled too politely because they wanted something from my father. Alessio Vescari was one of the

  • He Made Me the Joke, So I Went Home to the Mafia   Chapter 1

    The slab of cream cake hit me in the face the moment I opened the private room door.The room exploded.Chloe was perched on the arm of a leather sofa, phone in hand, laughing like she had just won a trophy.“Told you she’d show,” she said. “Pay up, Wilson.”Cream slid into my lashes and down my chi

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