Mafia Boss Husband’s Regret After My Death
I died five years ago. Now my husband, the Don of our Mafia family, wants me to take the fall for his sister again—this time for accidentally killing a British noble's heir during an arms deal.
He's holding a fake confession letter with my forged signature, storming into my old apartment in the rust district, only to find it empty.
Frustrated, he grabs the corner store owner downstairs, demanding to know where I am.
The owner pauses, wiping his hands on his apron, calmly tells him:
"Serafine? She died five years ago."
"Heard it was retaliation from a rival family during the gang war. They ambushed her in an alley... shot her over a dozen times. She died immediately."
My husband, Lucien, refuses to believe it. Convinced the owner is on my payroll, hiding me to help me escape his reach.
He scoffs, his eyes filled with scorn:
"Oh, so what? Because I called her out for messing up that last job, now she's throwing a tantrum?"
"You tell her, if she doesn't come back and take the fall in three days, I'll revoke her grandmother's 'special family protection'! Let the old woman rot!"
With that, he storms out, his rage still simmering.
The owner watches him leave and sighs, shaking his head. "There's no grandmother left to protect... That woman passed away not long after Serafine did... couldn't survive the winter without our family's medical supplies and protection..."