Undressed By The Mafia God

Voss was waiting for her near his desk. He looked exhausted, and still deeply disappointed. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and anger sitting hard around his mouth. "The DA threw out the case,"

She felt nothing. She had used up her ability to react. There had to be a limit somewhere. She did not say anything.

What was there to say? With what she had heard the night before, Voss had no case anyway. Vito had made a deal with Luca. Her father had been negotiating.

She had lost. She had lost everything else along the way too, one piece after another. Her husband would not talk to her.

He had run off to Singapore. Carol was not picking her calls either. That almost hurt as much as Marco’s silence. Carol, who had welcomed her, laughed with her, loved Matteo like he had been born straight into her arms.

Valentina was losing everyone. One after another. And it was only a matter of time before she lost Veronica too.

Luca would tell her. If he had not already.

"Where’s Vito?" she asked.

"We cut him loose. He should be at your old house. Whatever happens to him now," Voss said, "it is none of my business."

"So Luca wins again."

"He would not have this time," he said. "You were just too impatient."

Valentina looked away.

Voss sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "Go be with your son. I had to pull a lot of strings to get you out."

Valentina nodded. "Thank you," She turned and left. She stood on the pavement for a moment, squinting against the light, feeling painfully visible. She stopped a cab and headed home.

As the city moved past the window, she made a mental note to pick up her car at the pizza parlour later.

When she got home, the nanny had already bathed and dressed Matteo. He sat in the living room.

"My baby," she whispered.

The nanny stood, worried. "Madam, are you all right?"

Valentina could not answer. She crossed the room and picked up Matteo. He came to her easily, arms lifting. He patted her cheek with one soft hand, babbling something meaningless and perfect. She pressed her lips to her son’s hair and shut her eyes.

The nanny said something again, but Valentina barely heard it. She only turned away. There were no more plans in her head.

She walked upstairs to her room and cried. Later that night, Valentina was finally able to drag herself out of bed. Her body felt heavy. Her eyes felt swollen from crying, and her chest had a hollow, scraped-out feeling.

Matteo was asleep again. She had held him for most of the day, refusing to put him down for more than a few minutes at a time.

By evening, she had cried herself into numbness. Then numbness gave way to restlessness. She could not stay in that bedroom another minute.

She called the nanny over, gave instructions for Matteo then left the house. She took a cab back to the pizza parlour where her car had been sitting since the night before.

When the cab pulled up near the abandoned pizza parlour, her stomach tightened. The building stood in the dark like a bad memory.

She paid the driver and got out. Standing there, staring at the shop. Some places did not need bodies to feel haunted. She walked to her car, unlocked it, and slid into the driver’s seat.

Then she just sat there. Her hands rested in her lap. The keys remained loose between her fingers. She had thought she was being clever.

She had thought she was finally moving the pieces. She had thought she could force Luca into a mistake, trap the monster, save her family, and drag Marco back into her arms with proof that everything she had done had been for them.

Instead, Luca had played her. And now she was alone. So completely alone. The loneliness pressed down until breathing hurt.

She pulled out her phone and stared at Marco’s name before calling him. The number was still not reachable. She shut her eyes. "Please," she whispered. She wanted him to listen. Just listen. She could explain. She could make him understand why she did what she did. She had been afraid. She had been trying to protect them all. Luca was dangerous. Luca brought death wherever he went. Surely Marco knew that. Surely, beneath the loyalty, he knew.

Tears welled in her eyes again. She wiped them away angrily. She was tired of crying. She summoned what was left of her courage and called Carol.

Her thumb hovered over the button before she pressed it. The phone rang. Then Carol picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Carol," Val said. "It’s me. Val."

"Yes, I know," Carol replied. "I see that."

Valentina swallowed. "Of course... uh... can I talk to Marco?"

"He’s not here."

Valentina’s grip tightened around the phone. "Carol, I know he is there."

"How?" Carol asked. "Your police friends give you that information?"

"Carol, you don’t understand..."

"I perfectly understand."

"No, please. Just let me explain."

"There is nothing you can explain to me that will make me less disgusted. You thought you could meddle with things beyond you."

"Please," Val said. "I need to talk to him."

"Keep away from my son before you get him into any more trouble."

"Carol..."

The line was already dead. She slammed her palm against the steering wheel. Again and again until pain shot through her hand and the horn gave one startled, pathetic sound into the empty street.

Still, it was not enough. Nothing was enough. She screamed. The sound filled the car, trapped and raw, bouncing off the windows and returning to her twice as ugly. She screamed for Marco. For the father who had sold her. For Luca, who kept winning.

She screamed until her voice cracked. Until her throat burned. Until the anger had nowhere to go but inward.

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