Nights With My Husband's Mafia Brother

VENESSA'S POV

I fear that my husband has gone missing. I thought he knew the whole world and couldn't get lost in the middle of the ocean. Yet it has been seven days since he last answered my call, and I have been calling relentlessly like a siren. Could he have left this bleak world and never got a chance to let me know? 

A week ago I borrowed a huge loan from Weiss Bank to fund his event planning business which was encountering financial difficulties. He left home the next day, didn't call me even once to let me know how things were going. 

It's like he became a ghost, because none of his friends claim to know where to find him either. I should file a missing person's report today he has proved to be missing in all versions of the word. I grab my handbag and start to head out when my phone rings. 

I hope it's him and not one of those appalling phonecalls people get informing them that a body of their loved one has been found. 

"Hello Ven," a deep, attractive voice greets from the other side. 

It's not my husband's. Not just because the voice is too attractive, but because Marcus no longer finds it necessary to call me Ven or use pleasant titles. 

"Who is this?" I ask in a respectful tone as it might be someone aware of my husband's whereabouts. 

"Just call me an interested party," the voice answers and I snort before I can stop myself.

"Interested in what?" I ask.

"Your hopeless marriage. I only wish to open your eyes, Ven," the unknown caller answers.

"You should know I hate extortionists. I am ending this call," I say.

"Actually I think you love extortionists, Ven. Otherwise you wouldn't be happily living with one," the voice responds. 

What? The only person I live with is my husband. 

"You're a candidate of a mental facility. Why don't you call someone else and play these games with them?" I say in annoyance.

"I am trying to help you, dear. You need to start seeing what is painted in front of you in black and white," the voice answers.

"I am sorry to announce you're messing with the wrong person. Call my phone again and I will forward your number to the police," I threaten. 

The voice lets out a laugh, a deep, mysterious laugh. "Wow! That's the Ven I was looking for. The one with fire in her heart. Now quit letting a sadistic vampire suck the blood out of you then go flaunting their opulence and masculinity in every social media platform."

"What do you mean?" I ask, now feeling a bit curious.

"Good luck with the hint, Ven. I know you're still a smart woman, you will figure it out," the voice says before hanging up. 

My mouth is gaping. Should I add the call to the list of things I am going to report to the police? What if the mystery man is indeed trying to help me? But why speak in riddles if his intentions are pure or genuine?

He said that I should quit letting a sadistic vampire suck the blood out of me and go flaunting it's opulence and masculinity in every social media platform. I do not need to be smart to figure out that he wasn't talking about vampires. They do not exist. But there are human vampires. People that drain the life out of those that choose to care for them. 

I have always been supportive of my husband and there is no denying that foolish pride is one of his worst traits. He does flaunt his masculinity on his social media platforms even when he is penniless.

I guess what I need to do is check his social media accounts one last time. Problem is I have no idea what identity he uses on I*******m. It has never interested me to stalk or even touch his phone before since he rejected my friend request on F******k and insisted on respecting each other's privacy.

He has a laptop in his home office which I rarely visit. Like I said, I have always respected his privacy. But no more. I need to know that he is actually missing before reporting it.

I get the keys and make my way to the tiny office. I take a sit on his office seat and fire up his desktop. Unlucky for me his I*******m app demands a password.

I first try the common things a loving husband would use as password, my name, my birthday dates, our anniversary dates but they all fail.

Maybe he is not a loving husband. He is sometimes a selfish, egoistic man who doesn't give a shit about anyone besides himself, character traits I only started to notice recently.

I try his own birthday, his full name and I'm almost giving up when I finally realise that I may be underestimating his ego. I type in the password: "KingMarcus," and the app opens, giving me access to a world I have never seen before.

My heart sinks as I scroll through his profile with wide eyes. There are posts of him posing happily on a beach, with a pretty woman in a bikini by his side. His smile is wide and bright. I am sure the woman bears the same joyous expression, if only there wasn't a smiley emoji placed on top of her face to hide her identity. 

The posts are recent, and the location is tagged as a luxurious resort in Miami. That's not where he said he was going before leaving. I just took a massive loan to help him revive his event planning business. I was convinced that he had important clients who he needed to deliver services to and the business would earn it's success and be able to repay the loan. 

Had he lied about it all! He made me borrow a loan I cannot pay back to fund his luxurious vacation with another woman. I haven't slept a night since the second day I couldn't reach him. Yet he was having fun with someone else, at places we couldn't afford to visit even during our honeymoon.

The loan I borrowed cannot be paid by a small interior designer like myself. I am in deep trouble. The little I own will be auctioned and I will still be left with a huge dept.

I open his messages on W******p and conversations with an anonymous woman, discussing their secret getaway fill the screen. There were plans for a romantic dinner at an expensive restaurant, a sunset cruise and a moment of wild fun in a hotel room. I feel like I am drowning in betrayal.

That's literally the case since my life has fallen off a cliff. And I can only see rocks waiting at the bottom. I had great plans for our future. They did not include a massive dept that only I bears the burden of paying when I didn't spend a single coin. 

I save all the evidence, including screenshots of the posts, messages, and photos. If we are getting a divorce, I am sure the evidence will be of great help.

How did I not see this coming? I knew our relationship isn't as delightful as it used to be and that my husband hasn't been romantic towards me. Yet it had to take a mysterious phone call for me to realise that I am no longer the woman my husband loves. In fact he doesn't mind having me drowning in dept. 

I feel like my heart has been crashed  and hot blood is spilling into my stomach, making it feel like it has been set on fire.

I haven't cried for years, yet tears sting my eyes now and I have no strength to hold them back. I need the best therapist to convince me that suicide isn't the best and only solution I have right now. 

I cannot afford a therapist that good right now. So I call my best friend, Bianca. She hails from a wealthy family but we get along. 

"You really have no idea who called you?"   she asks in a worried tone after I have told her everything. 

Above all the distressful news I have shared with her concerning my husband's shameless betrayal the phone call is what she finds most alarming? What about the loan that is definitely going to ruin my life?

"Yes the caller refused to reveal his identity. But it is not the thing troubling me most right now," I answer. 

"Oh yes, your worthless husband is cheating on you. It's horrifying!" she finally says. "I am a little jetlag at the moment. Meet me at Lovington bar tonight at seven. We will figure out ways to help you if there are any," she adds.

She may not sound like salvation, but she is the only help I can get right now. Problem is Lovington is a luxurious bar for the city's elite society. Getting in alone may be another challenge unless I dress like a rich man's wife.