All Chapters of FRAMED FOR MURDER WHILE PREGNANT: NOW I'M THE MAFIA'S WIFE: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Marissa POV FCI Phoenix Week Three, Tuesday On day twenty one, something changed.Officer Hayes wasn't at morning inspection. Instead, a male guard I'd never seen appeared at my cell door."Sanchez. Medical wants to see you.""Why? I didn't request medical.""Routine evaluation. Monthly check for segregation inmates. Let's go."Everything about this felt wrong. I'd been here three weeks not a month. And Hayes had said nothing about scheduled medical appointments.But refusing would draw attention. So I followed him down corridors I'd never seen before, deeper into the facility.We passed through three locked doors, each requiring his security card.Too many doors. Medical was supposed to be in the main building."Where are we going?" I asked."Medical wing. Segregation inmates have separate facilities."Lie. I could hear it in his voice.We reached a door marked "Interview Room 3." Not medical. Interview.He opened it. "Inside. Doctor will be with you shortly."The room was small, wi

Von POV Los Angeles Week Three, Tuesday Night Marcus called at 11:47 PM."We have a major problem."I was instantly awake, phone pressed to my ear. "What happened?""Jennifer Park is dead. Found in her apartment this evening. Staged to look like suicide pills, note, the whole setup. But Von, Park wasn't suicidal. She was excited about taking these people down. This was murder."I felt the floor drop out from under me. "Do they know she was working with us?""I don't know. But we have to assume yes. Park had been documenting everything, gathering evidence, preparing to testify. If they discovered that, they might have traced her communications back to us.""What about the evidence she collected? The files?""She was smart. Everything was backed up to encrypted cloud storage that only she could access. But without her credentials, we can't retrieve it. We just lost months of investigation and our best witness."I stood and started pacing my office. "What's our next move?""I'm pulling

Von POV Los Angeles Wednesday Evening I was putting Mateo to bed when my phone rang with a number I didn't recognize.Northern Virginia area code. 703.My instincts screamed trap , but I answered anyway. "Hello?""Mr. Castellano, this is Special Agent Jennifer Reeves, FBI Public Corruption Unit. Your wife asked me to call you."Every muscle in my body tensed. "My wife is dead.""No, sir. She's not. She's in protective custody at a federal facility in Arizona under the name Maria Sanchez. And she just spent four hours briefing my team on a criminal conspiracy that involves federal officials, private corporations, and a trafficking network operating for over thirty years."I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.Marissa had exposed herself. Had told the FBI everything.Either this was legitimate and we were finally getting help, or this was a trap and I'd just confirmed my wife was alive to someone hunting her."I need verification," I managed. "Credentials, badge number, supervisor contac

Marissa POV Los Angeles Monday Evening The first few hours home were overwhelming.Sofia refused to leave my side, literally holding onto my hand or my clothes at all times. Mateo kept asking questions "Are you hungry? Are you tired? Do you want to see my room?" desperate to anchor me in reality through mundane details.Isabella was quieter. She'd hug me, then retreat, then come back for another hug, processing in waves.Von orchestrated everything with quiet efficiency. Kept reporters away, fielded calls from Catherine and Marcus, made sure I had space to just be with the children.My mother in law had prepared dinner all my favorite foods, too much food, a feast meant to celebrate my return.We sat around the table together, all five of us, and I couldn't stop crying."Mom, why are you sad?" Sofia asked, concerned. "You're home now. You should be happy.""I am happy, sweetheart. These are happy tears. Sometimes when you're overwhelmed by good things, you cry anyway."Mateo studied

Marissa POV WednesdayBy day three at home, the initial shock was beginning to fade, and reality was slowly settling in its place.The PTSD had arrived without warning. I flinched at loud noises, felt my chest tighten near locked doors, and struggled to be alone in small spaces. Von had already scheduled therapy. I didn't argue. Some battles you know better than to fight.The children were carrying their own weight too. Trauma, grief that had been devastatingly real even when the death wasn't, confusion about what was true and what had been fabricated, a quiet fear that I might vanish again without warning. We were all broken in different ways, all somewhere in the middle of healing. But we were together, and that made the unbearable feel survivable.That afternoon, Isabella asked if we could speak privately.We settled in my office, the room that felt most like mine, most like safety."I need to tell you something," she said, folding her hands in her lap the way she always did when s