All Chapters of The Mobster’s Menu: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

The taste of champagne lingered sweetly on her lips. A happy memory from the toast. Violetta’s head felt heavy against the car window. The world outside was just a blur of color and light.Adam squeezed her knee. “Almost home, baby.” His voice was smooth. Too smooth.She tried to speak. She wanted to say it had been a perfect night. That her new ring felt like a crown. But her tongue felt thick and wouldn’t cooperate.The party played back in her mind. Friends were laughing. Proud smiles surrounded her. It was all perfect.Too perfect.A sick feeling rolled in her stomach. This was not champagne; it was something else. Something was wrong. The car felt small. Adam’s cologne was too strong. It choked her.“Adam…” The word felt heavy in her mouth.“Just rest,” he said. His hand on her knee felt tight. It didn’t feel like love; it felt like ownership.The last thing she saw was his face illuminated by a passing streetlight. His jaw was hard. His eyes were cold. This was not the face of h

The woman, Eleanor, stayed silent. Her face was expressionless. She helped Violetta to her feet and led her down the hall. They moved away from the broken vase, away from him.They entered a new room. It was larger. The bathroom had white marble and gold accents. A simple, severe white dress hung on the door. It looked cold to wear.Eleanor went to work. She cleaned the cut on Violetta’s foot and put a bandage on it. Then, she helped her into the dress. The fabric felt stiff and smelled unfamiliar. Eleanor brushed Violetta's hair and pinned it up with cold, sharp clips that tugged at her scalp.No words were exchanged. The only sounds came from their breathing and the quick pounding of Violetta’s heart.Eleanor stepped back and examined her work. She nodded sharply. It was complete.The door opened to reveal Damon. He had changed into a darker, sharper suit. He looked at her, his gaze moving over the dress and her face without showing any emotion.“It’s time,” he said.He didn’t offer

Violetta did not move. Her eyes were fixed on the bed and the shape of her husband.He had not moved. Not a single sound. The entire time.Did he sleep through it? Was it a dream?The room brightened. The sun rose. It was a new day, her first as Mrs. DeLeon.The door opened. Eleanor walked in. She saw Violetta on the floor, still in her wedding dress. She didn’t seem surprised."Breakfast is ready, Mrs. DeLeon," she said. The name hit hard.Eleanor led her to a new room, a dressing room. Clothes were laid out on a chair: a soft sweater, dark pants, underthings. All expensive, all wrong.On top of the clothes lay the contract. A black pen rested beside it.Eleanor waited. Her message was clear: get dressed and sign.Violetta’s hands shook. She took off the wedding dress and put on the new clothes. The sweater was soft like butter; it felt like a costume.She picked up the contract but did not sign it. She carried it with her.Eleanor took her to the dining room. The table was long enou

Time moved oddly. Violetta sat on the floor of her room. She did not sit on the bed. The bed was not hers.She looked at her hands. They were clean, but she could still see the blood. She could still smell it.She had asked for a phone call. He had walked away. She knew what that meant. No.The sun began to set. The room turned orange, then gray, then black. No one came. No food. No water. No word.She was alone with the dark and the quiet. She thought about her mother. She would be making dinner now. She would be looking at her phone, worrying. Violetta never went a day without calling.A soft knock came on the door. It was not the loud sound of Damon’s knock. It was different.The door opened. It was Marco. His face was serious. In his hand, he held a phone. A simple, black phone.He did not step all the way in. He stood in the doorway. “He says you can call,” Marco said in a low voice. “You have five minutes.”Violetta’s heart jumped. She stood up too quickly. The world spun. She