LOGINShare
Chapter 5 Confrontation
Last Updated:
2025-05-15 18:17:08(Emmeline)
I can’t breathe properly.
I can’t think.
My heart is beating so fast I’m worried I may pass out and there’s no time for that now.
Jackson’s been gone for over an hour. They waited to call me until they’d searched the entire school.
I knew he was up to something this morning, I should have pushed him for an answer.
Where could he have gone?
What if he was kidnapped?
Jackson is such a beautiful boy and there are so many predators.
He’s smart as a whip, but he’s still 4 years old and he’ll trust anyone.
My head seems to be filled with static, thoughts coming and going arbitrarily.
I have to do something. Anything.
What if he’s trapped somewhere, screaming for me?
I’ll die if anything happens to him. He’s my entire life.
The moment they put him in my arms the day he was born, I knew my heart would be living outside my chest for the rest of my life.
He wants to find his dad. He saw him on television and he has a name now, but it’s not like mafia bosses publish their addresses online.
I type Asher Giordano into the search bar on my phone and I’m inundated with results. None of them telling me where he lives.
“I’m going to drive around and see if I can’t find him,” I tell Rosa, grabbing my keys.
“Honey, the police are already doing that. Maybe you should go home and see if he hasn’t gone back to the apartment?” she suggest gently.
She’s right. Why didn’t I think of that?
I can’t allow panic to get the better of me. I have to stop spinning in circles right away. I’ll find Jackson.
Going off the rails won’t help anyone.
Tears pour silently down my cheeks and I keep scanning the sidewalks for any sign of him.
He’s so small, would I even see him amongst the sea of people?
His hair is like a beacon, as fiercely red as mine, but if he’s behind someone taller, that won’t help me.
I’m out of the car before it comes to a full stop, my hands shaking so badly it takes me 3 tries to get the security door downstairs unlocked.
We’re on the 4th floor and the elevator in this old building is fickle and slow.
Taking the stairs 2 at a time, I start calling Jackson’s name when I’m on the last landing.
There’s no response, but my heart leaps in my chest when I see the front door of our apartment is ajar.
Maybe the super let him in? He should have called me, but I’m too grateful to really care.
“Jackson, baby, you scared me half to-”
The words die in my throat when I rush inside and find Asher standing in the middle of my living room.
Asher.
I can’t tell whether I’m shivering or just falling apart.
Every breath tastes like ash and panic.
“What have you done with Jackson?” I demand.
“My son?” Asher asks calmly, looking around my small apartment disdainfully. “The one you’ve been hiding from me and forcing to live in this…pigeonhole, when I could have been taking care of him?”
My heart is a trapped bird, slamming against my chest.
“Our son, not yours. And you’re the one who disappeared without as much as a ‘see you later’. If you left me a forwarding address to contact you at, I must have missed it.”
Asher’s brows shoot up as he regards me coldly.
I don’t know this person.
The boy I fell in love with was warm, giving and open.
This man is frostier than the arctic.
He hardly seems human to me as I stare into his glacial eyes.
“You can’t take Jackson from me, he’ll never forgive you,” I warn Asher.
I don’t know what else to do. Asher has money, connections and hitmen.
All I have is the desperate love of a mother for her child.
“I’m not letting him come back here,” Asher informs me with great finality. “If you want to see Jackson again, you’ll do what I say and I’ll take you to him.”
All that matters now is getting to my son. “What do you want?”
Asher nods at me condescendingly, like I’m a pet who’s come to heel, and I want to fly at him in fury.
I hate feeling this helpless when Jackson needs me to be strong.
“I believe you work at the DA’s office,” Asher says, his brow wrinkled in distaste. “If you wish to be reunited with Jackson, you’ll resign with immediate effect and tell me exactly what they think they have on me.”
“I need that job. I can’t just resign-”
I start to protest, before Asher abruptly interrupts me.
“You have one minute to decide. Do as I say, or never see Jackson again. The clock is ticking.”
Latest chapter
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 80 Curtain Call
EmmelineWe spend the morning packing and the afternoon pretending it’s spring.The new glass in the pantry shines like a lie that wants to be forgiven. The chalkboard reads basil, sunscreen, patience, written in my hand on purpose.Maria hums at the stove, stirring home-made tomato sauce, because some rituals are laws. The kettle behaves. The house has learned better manners since it bled.Sebastian appears in the doorway with a banker’s box and the look of a man who made it out of a burning building by counting breaths.The charges died on impact once our lawyers showed their teeth and the beacons sang the right tune, but a career doesn’t grow back because a judge signed a piece of paper.“Compliance work,” he says, setting the box down. “Boring. Indestructible. No cameras.”“You say that like it isn’t salvation,” I answer, and he smiles, the tired kind, and lets Maria feed him until his stomach is bulging and his problems temporarily forgotten.Caterina moves through the dining roo
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 79 The Last Cut
AsherNew York welcomes us back with terrible weather and worse smells. As much as I want to go to Emmeline, I have to finish this.You don’t sleep between a war’s penultimate page and its last.We choose Pier 37 as our meeting place. Where they left Nico propped like a cautionary tale with a black-wax card on his lapel.Bruce stands at my shoulder. “You’re sure he’ll bite?”“He wants to be seen,” I say. “Newly minted heirs crave acknowledgment.”He arrives in a dark sedan. Three men with him. Two peel off too late when the first floodlight hits. My shooters own the angles. Lines of red dance across coats and make decisions for men who think they still have them.Luca Vescari steps out looking like a photograph of an uncle I never liked. Hair too careful, grief worn like cufflinks, a ring with the V pressed deep enough to make skin complain. He looks at the grey water, then at me, as if I should apologize for geography.“Asher Giordano,” he says, as if he’s naming a chess piece.I nod
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 78 Palermo Night
AsherThe stairs down to Santa Maria del Gesù sweat history. Lime dust, candle smoke, the wet breath of stone. Beneath the nave, the crypt opens like a throat. Men in black suits and old rings line the aisle.At the left of the altar, they have Alessia, wrists bound, mascara boiled into salt. A relic they plan to parade when the pledges kiss the ring.Bruce breathes once in my ear, his voice a whisper under my collar. “Two on the stairs. Three by the bowl. One, left niche, long barrel.”“Hold,” I say. “We go when the Confiteor starts.”The words roll out. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. The room bows. We don’t.CaterinaI count bones in the walls so I don’t run at the first sight of her. Then Alessia lifts her head and I am a child again, choking on a laugh we weren’t allowed.“Cati?” Her mouth shapes it, no sound.I want to tear the crypt in half with my hands. Bruce’s hand finds my hip without looking. “We’re getting her out,” he promises.Nonna is not here. Of course she is
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 77 The Queen’s Gambit
Emmeline“Nonna Vescari won’t come for trucks and ledgers,” I say. “She comes for weaknesses. So I’ll give her one.”Asher’s eyes cut to me. “No.”“You don’t know what it is yet.”“It’s you,” he says, and there’s too much love in it to bear. “So no.”I pick up the tin of black wax they left like a calling card and turn it in my hand until it squeaks.“She thinks women are currency. Wives, daughters, cousins. She thinks we belong to the ledger’s notes. Let her think that and come close enough to learn math has changed.”I set the tin down.“We send a message through the channels she respects. Propriety and prayer. A condolence mass notice, bought by ‘a friend’ in my mother’s maiden name. A florist order. White lilies and a black ribbon delivered to Santa Maria del Gesù with an old-fashioned card. And a private note to her fixer that reads like a confession.”Asher’s jaw knots. “What confession?”“That I’m tired.” I meet his gaze. “That the crown you put on is crushing what’s under my r
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 76 Captains’ Revolt
AsherThis is starting to feel like déjà vu. Being back in the warehouse for another meeting in less than 48-hours rankles, but it’s necessary.Bruce drops a woven basket in the center. “Phones.” He waits with that patient, immovable look that makes men remember they are mortal.“We’re done playing nice,” I say. “Their bridge hit failed. A team tried our back stair and left a stain on my pantry door. Sebastian is sitting in a federal room because someone put my bait in his pocket and waved a camera. This is not random.”DeLuca clears his throat. He always clears his throat before he crawls. “With respect, Boss-”“Say it without the sugar,” I tell him.“Sebastian’s a liability,” he says, words tumbling out once permission lands. “Let the Feds have him. We keep our distance. The Sicilians-” he tilts a palm, like we’re weighing produce “They’re offering routes. We bend the knee, keep our ports and live to fight later.”“Later is what cowards call never,” Bruce says mildly.Ferro leans in
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 75 Blood Debt
CaterinaHe makes me meet him in a side chapel, as if God is a better witness than lawyers.The church is one of those narrow, old-world pockets squeezed between laundromats and a locksmith that never seems to be open.Candles gutter in red glass. Plaster saints pretend not to listen. Bruce stands at the door and becomes part of the architecture. Hands loose, eyes counting exits. He moves a little stiff from the knife that kissed him this morning, but he refused to let anyone else come with me.My father arrives on time because he believes punctuality is morality. Black coat, darker eyes, two men who look like they could be carved from the same block as the columns. He doesn’t sit. He fills space the way old money does, with silence and disapproval.“Papà,” I say.“Don’t,” he answers, and the word is clean as a blade. “You forfeited it.”He looks at Bruce, then past him, deciding whether the man at the door is furniture or weather. He chooses weather and faces me again. “You embarrass
You may also like
The One Night Stand Mafia Heir
Peyton Iuga119.9K viewsForced By The Mafia
~S.Y309.3K viewsTormenting Her Innocence
Taevya293.9K viewsHer Obsessed Stepbrother
Taevya101.8K viewsA Pet for the Mafia Dons
S.K.Taylor16.0K viewsBETRAYED BY THE MAFIA LORD
Sherry_writes1.7K viewsDestroying The Mafia Boss
Winnie39 viewsTaming The Devil's Queen
Ruthie. C61 views
