My Mafia Husband Said He Was Broke

Luca, wincing with each wheezing breath, raised his small hand and clumsily wiped away my tears. "Don't cry, Mommy. It... it doesn't hurt as much anymore. I don't blame Papa. Maybe I'm just not strong enough."

His maturity was a blade twisting in my heart.

I took a deep breath, forced myself to sit up, and said, word by word, "Luca, listen to me. We don't need Papa anymore."

Luca froze, his eyes wide above the oxygen mask.

My eyes were resolute. "As soon as the review period is over, we're leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"To a place with no Connor Family, no lies, and no pain."

Luca nodded forcefully. "Okay! As long as I'm with Mommy, I'll go anywhere."

Just as he finished speaking, the door to the room was thrown open.

The loud noise made Luca flinch, and he broke into another fit of harsh coughing.

Santino stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on us. "Leaving?"

"And where do you think you can run with my son?"

The moment Luca saw Santino, he scrambled into my arms in terror.

"Don't come any closer," he whimpered. "Mommy, I'm scared."

I held my trembling, feverish son tightly and looked up. "Get out. Luca doesn't want to see you."

Santino stopped, his displeasure clear on his face.

Before, this child had always clung to him like a puppy, looking at him with worshipful eyes. And I had been utterly obedient.

This sudden coldness was new to him, and he was offended by it.

But he quickly reverted to the arrogance of a Don. He adjusted his cuffs, his tone detached.

"Riley just returned to New York. As a family ally, it's my duty to look after her and her son. The test was a success, Finn has been diagnosed, and Luca is alive. Stop being so dramatic."

Still alive. The words were a slap across my face.

"So you admit he's not your son?" I swayed, my body a live wire of rage. "But Luca is!"

"For an outsider, for a woman you have no formal ties to, you forced your own sick son through a medical stress test that nearly stopped his heart and left him with severe respiratory distress!"

Santino took a step closer. "Erin, you knew the situation five years ago. You chose to stay. You insisted on having this child."

"All these years, whether you were suffering in the slums or enduring this for Finn, you did it all for me, didn't you? A testament to your love?"

He reached out to touch my face, but I flinched away.

Santino's hand froze in mid-air, a flicker of disappointment flashing through his eyes.

"This is the path you chose, isn't it?"

My ears were ringing.

Yes, it was my choice.

I was stupid enough to think love could soften a stone. I was naive enough to believe that if I endured enough, he would eventually turn back to us.

In the end, the only one I'd convinced was myself.

I reaped what I sowed.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the tears fall. "You're right, Santino. I made my choice."

Finally, the adoration in my gaze was gone.

"You're being irrational," he said coldly before turning to leave.

For the next few days, Luca and I were kept in the private ward.

It felt less like treatment and more like house arrest.

The nurses in the hallway were always whispering.

"Did you hear? Don Connor bought Miss Riley a pink diamond necklace yesterday. A million dollars."

"Yeah, they say it was to celebrate her son's diagnosis. He really spoils them rotten."

"What about his actual wife and son in that room? I heard they put the poor kid on a stress treadmill until he collapsed, just for a test for the other boy."

"Shh, keep your voice down. It's just pitiful."

Every word was a slap in the face.

But I couldn't feel the pain anymore. Once a heart dies, all that's left is the will to escape.

The day we were discharged, the sunlight was so bright it hurt to look at.

Luca stared at a cake in a shop window, swallowing hard, but then obediently looked away without a word.

For five years, to play along with Santino's "going straight" act, Luca had never had a decent meal or a new set of clothes.

I felt the small wad of cash left in my pocket.

"Come on, Luca." I took his hand, forcing a smile. "Mommy's taking you out for a nice meal."

I wanted him to know that even without his bastard of a father, I could still give him the world.

A waiter showed us to our table.

I was holding the menu, explaining to Luca which pasta was which, when a familiar, grating laugh came from the table next to us.

"Santino, this truffle is delicious. Finn loves it."

I slowly turned my head. At the best table by the window, Santino was gently cutting a steak for Riley.

Finn sat beside them in a custom-tailored suit, his face glowing with health, looking nothing like a child who had just undergone major surgery.

"Papa, I want that lobster!" Finn demanded, tapping his fork against his plate.

Santino didn't correct him. Instead, he tenderly cut the lobster meat and placed it on Finn's plate. "Alright, eat slowly."

Luca saw it all. He gripped his fork tightly, his eyes fixed on the fatherly love he had never known.

"Should we go?" he asked in a small voice.

"No," I said, placing my hand on his. "We paid. We have a right to be here."

Finn saw us.

He jumped down from his chair, picked up a steaming bowl of soup from the table, and walked straight toward us.

Riley saw him but just covered her mouth with a light laugh, making no move to stop him.

Finn stopped in front of Luca.

"Hey, who let you in here?"

Finn's voice was sharp and cruel. "What are peasants like you doing in a place like this?"

After he spoke, he flicked his wrist.

The bowl of scalding lobster bisque tipped, without warning, right toward Luca.