The Broken & Reborn Mafia Matriarch Chapter 02
I bit down so hard on my lip that I tasted blood, swallowing the sob rising up my throat.Â
The two voices outside the door dropped toÂ
whispers.Â
“Shh, keep it down. She should be waking up anyÂ
minute.”Â
Eric walked into the hospital room with that perfect, concerned look on his face–no trace of the monster who’d been whispering just outsideÂ
the door.Â
When he saw my eyes open, he flinched slightly,Â
as if he were guilty.Â
“Mia? When did you wake up? Why are your eyesÂ
red?”Â
“Just now. My eyes sting from the surgery.”Â
He let out a small, relieved laugh and reached upÂ
to touch the bandages on my face.Â
“It’s probably just part of the recovery process. Once you heal from this, the scars will barely beÂ
noticeable. We’ll finally get to take our wedding photos, yeah?”Â
He still remembered his promise.Â
We’d put off our wedding photos because of myÂ
injuries. Eric had sworn we’d take them theÂ
moment my face healed.Â
But now, his words only turned my stomach.Â
“Mia, Zoe stopped by earlier. She wanted to seeÂ
you, but you were still asleep. She said she wouldÂ
come back another day.”Â
I kept my face blank., my voice flat.Â
“Oh, how sweet of her.”Â
Eric visibly relaxed, grinning like he thought he’dÂ
pulled off the perfect act.Â
“Good, I didn’t want anyone interrupting our aloneÂ
time anyway. Whenever Zoe comes over, youÂ
spend the whole time talking to her and ignoreÂ
me!”Â
I nodded, fighting the urge to retch.Â
How could he make love look so real?Â
A few days later, I was discharged home. Eric.Â
continued to play the perfect husband, cooking allÂ
my meals.Â
He even fried my eggs into perfect little hearts.Â
My phone pinged with a text from him:Â
[Mia, I’m heading to work. Rest up at home, okay?Â
Your face is going to look perfect again. Don’t stress about it.]Â
He was a brilliant actor. He had every single detailÂ
down to a science.Â
To secure the woman he loved’s place in theÂ
world, he’d pretended to love a woman heÂ
despised.Â
He’d even convinced himself of the lie.Â
I sat down to draw up divorce papers, but myÂ
laptop died.Â
There was another computer in the study.Â
Eric had always told me never to touch it, saying itÂ
contained confidential patient files.Â
I’d respected his wishes, once.Â
The screen asked me for a password.Â
Only one date came to mind.Â
I typed in Zoe’s birthday.Â
The computer unlocked instantly.Â
His desktop background was a photo of ZoeÂ
laughing on a sun–drenched beach, her smileÂ
dazzling.Â
There was a folder labeled “THE ONE“. I clicked itÂ
open.Â
Inside were thousands of photos of Zoe, from childhood to the present day.Â
And there was a video from Zoe’s wedding. Eric’s voice, low and broken, played through theÂ
speakers.Â
“Zoe, you look breathtaking today. It should’ve been me standing at that altar with you.”Â
“I’ll be your knight. No one will ever take yourÂ
place. I’d die for you–even if that means keeping his useless trophy wife on a short leash.”Â
Tears streamed down my face as I watched. NotÂ
work files. Just her.Â
This was why he’d never let me touch hisÂ
computer.Â
It held all his love, all his devotion, all his soul, forÂ
another woman.Â
I thought back to the nights after the fire, when I’d wake up screaming from night terrors.Â
I’d developed severe PTSD and depression.Â
I’d hidden my worst breakdowns from him, sneaking to extra therapy sessions because IÂ
didn’t want to be a burden.Â
And yet, the man who spent his days diagnosingÂ
broken minds never once noticed his own wifeÂ
was falling apart.Â
I was such a fool. It had been right in front of me this whole time.Â
I finished writing the divorce papers.Â
Then I zipped up all my old modeling competition videos and sent them to the international agency that’d been hounding me for years, along with a note explaining my current condition.Â
It was time to wake up from the gilded cage Eric had built for me.

