The Mafia Widow's Revenge

They said I was supposed to serve five years.

I’d only done three.

Even as the prison gate shut behind me this morning, I kept expecting someone to call me back. A mistake. A mix-up. Something. But it didn’t come.

Just the cold morning breeze and the words the warden had muttered when he handed me the release papers.

“Orders from above. That’s all I know.”

He hadn’t looked me in the eye. None of them ever did.

I signed the forms, handed over the worn uniform, and went through the same exit procedures as everyone else. But it didn’t feel the same. Nothing did.

Outside the gates, a black sedan waited. Clean. Shiny. Too polished for this place. A new driver stood beside it.. tall, stiff, expression unreadable. I didn’t recognize him. They must have changed staff. Or maybe the old one had finally gotten tired of ferrying other people’s dirt.

He opened the back door without saying a word.

I got in.

My thoughts swirled as the car pulled onto the main road, the prison fading behind us. The same thoughts I’d buried for three years.

Why now?

What could my stepmother possibly want? She was the one who made sure I got locked away to begin with. The one who twisted the story and called it justice.

Had she finally grown a conscience?

I almost laughed.

Unlikely.

My palms were clammy, despite the cold air blowing from the car vents. I rubbed them against my pants and stared out the window, watching the city roll past like a memory I wasn’t part of anymore.

I didn’t belong in that prison, and I sure as hell didn’t belong in this car.

The driver didn’t speak. Neither did I.

An hour later, we turned down a street I hadn’t seen in years. The Bennett family estate.. huge, old, trimmed to perfection. Exactly the same as I remembered. Neatly sculpted hedges, tall white gates, an over-polished fountain that hadn't worked since I was fifteen.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the house, and my chest tightened.

I stepped out slowly.

The first memory that hit me wasn’t the prison or the courtroom.

It was my mother.

She used to stand by the top window, watching the garden while humming under her breath. She died when I was seventeen. They called it an accident. A hit-and-run. I never believed that. Not once.

But I never got to ask questions either. They buried her and moved on like she was just a chapter they wanted to close.

And then, three years ago, they dragged me out of this very house. In handcuffs. Accused of embezzling company funds. Funds I never had access to. They’d shoved papers in my face, fake spreadsheets, false signatures.. proof of a crime I didn’t commit.

I still remember my father’s face that day. Blank. Cold.

And my stepmother’s?

Smirking. Like it was her birthday.

I clenched my fists and stepped forward.

The door was already open.

Inside, nothing had changed. The air smelled the same.. like lemons and expensive furniture polish. Too clean. Too forced.

I walked into the living room, and there she was. Evelyn Bennett. My stepmother. Sitting on the cream leather couch like she owned the world.

She barely looked up from her tablet.

“Well,” she said. “Look who’s back.”

I didn’t sit.

“I wasn’t supposed to be released yet.”

She gave a soft, fake laugh. “Clearly, someone thought it was time.”

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why now?”

She finally looked up. Her eyes were sharp. Cold. “Oh, that.”

Before she could say anything else, footsteps sounded from the hallway.

Johanna.. my stepsister.

Perfect Johanna.

Hair curled. Skin glowing. That same stupid charm smile on her face, the one that fooled everyone but me.

“Well, this is awkward,” she said with a grin, crossing her arms. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

I didn’t answer her.

I looked back at Evelyn. “Why did you bring me back?”

Evelyn stood slowly, brushing invisible dust off her sleeve. “You’ll want to sit down for this.”

“I’d rather stand.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. We’ve had... an opportunity come up. A situation that needs someone in your position.”

“My position?” I echoed.

Evelyn stood and walked to the bar cart. Poured herself water, none for me. She sipped, then turned.

“There’s been a development. A chance to fix your reputation. Maybe even restore your standing in this family.”

I frowned. “What kind of development?”

She held up a hand. “Let me finish. You remember the Grahams?”

“Barely.”

“They’ve come calling. The second son, Ryan, needs a wife. It’s a long-standing contract. One that Johanna was supposed to fulfill.”

My eyes shot to Johanna, who looked bored now, picking at her nail polish.

“But their terms changed. They need a bride now. And Johanna…” Evelyn trailed off with a dismissive glance. “Wasn’t suitable.”

I took a step back. “So you pulled me out of prison to marry a stranger?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” I snapped. “You framed me, sent me away, and now you’re what? Offering me a peace offering in the form of a forced marriage?”

Evelyn set her glass down and walked over. Her heels clicked against the marble.

“This is not a negotiation, Lucia. This is your one and only chance to clean up your name. To be useful.”

I laughed bitterly. “Useful to who? You?”

“To your father,” she said.

The room went still.

I hadn’t seen him. Not even when I arrived.

“He’s been ill,” Evelyn said casually. “Collapsed a few months after your arrest. He’s barely conscious most days.”

My mouth went dry.

“And the doctors say stress is bad for his heart,” she added. “So imagine how he’d react if you caused another scandal. Like refusing the Grahams’ offer.”

I blinked at her.

“You’d let him suffer to protect your pride?” she said, voice low. “After everything you put this family through?”

“I didn’t.. ”

“Save it.”

She leaned in. Her perfume was strong.. sweet and sharp, like her smile.

“Refuse this marriage,” she whispered, “and I’ll make sure your father never hears your name again. You’ll be nothing to him. Nothing to us.”

A small laugh broke the silence.

Johanna.

She stood now, arms folded, expression smug.

“Oh, and by the way,” she said lightly, “Ryan’s practically a ghost. Crippled. So we heard.. You probably won’t have to stay married long. He’s already halfway in the grave.”

She grinned, like it was funny.

I stared at her. My chest tightened.

“Think of it as community service,” she added with a shrug. “You do a little time with a dying man and get your freedom in return. Doesn’t sound so bad, right?”

Evelyn didn’t stop her. She didn’t even blink.

I looked at both of them.. one dripping with cruelty, the other with cold calculation.

My hands trembled. My jaw clenched.

I felt cornered all over again.

Evelyn stepped back, adjusting her ring. “So. What’ll it be?”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

She moved back to her seat, calm again.

“You’ll do it,” she said. “Because you don’t have a choice.”

Again, I didn’t say anything.

Not because I agreed.

But because I didn’t know how to fight someone who had already taken everything from me.