23

MILLIE
On the night we became husband and wife, I had admitted to Gio that I didn’t hold hatred for him. How I wished he would ask me that question again in this moment. Collapsing into an available seat, I tried to steady my trembling form, but the emotional quake persisted. Where was I headed?
The realization dawned that escape was but a fleeting notion. Gio would likely mobilize every available resource to track me down. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, earning puzzled glances from fellow passengers. What did they know? They enjoyed freedom.
Dialing Harper’s number on my mobile, I waited anxiously for her response. Her voice echoed through the line after a couple of rings. “Millie?”
“I found Gio with Alyssa, in bed.” I spoke the words aloud, drawing more attention. But it hardly mattered. No photograph of me had graced the wedding announcements in newspapers. Avoiding the limelight had become my norm.
“Sweet mother of… I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah.” The subway carried me to the next station as I recounted the painful narrative to Harper. Sensing that the underground was a predictable search spot, I ventured out, guided by an instinctual need for refuge. Eventually, I found myself in a dim, raucous establishment, offering comfort food and drinks. Despite ordering a coke and a burger, my appetite was nonexistent.
Harper’s voice chimed through the phone again. “Where are you now?”
“Somewhere. I honestly don’t know. A kind of restaurant, I guess.”
“Please be cautious.” Her concern was palpable. I remained silent. “Are you crying?”
The tears had returned. Once more, words failed me.
“Don’t cry, especially when I can’t be there to console you and pummel Gio’s sorry ass. Always knew he was a jerk. Complete bastard. You two haven’t… you know?”
“No, we haven’t. Probably why he’s out there betraying me.”
“Don’t you dare blame yourself, Millie. A real man would have controlled himself, would have shown restraint.”
Amidst the dim lighting of the restaurant, my order arrived – a hearty burger accompanied by a refreshing coke. Expressing gratitude, I offered a nod and a smile to the waitress who stood by my table momentarily, her gaze fixated on the traces of tears that had welled up in my eyes. It took a moment, but eventually, she understood my unspoken plea for solitude and withdrew.
As I stared at my meal, lost in thought, a familiar voice brought me back to reality. “What will you do now? Are you thinking of coming back home?” The concern in the question was palpable, coming from a friend who knew the turmoil I was navigating.
A heavy sigh escaped me as I contemplated the situation. “Do you really think Father will let me leave Gio because he cheated on me? Father has had a mistress for years,” I mused aloud, realizing the intricate web of complications that bound us. It wasn’t just about my decision; it was about familial dynamics, loyalties, and the intricacies of power within our world.
In response to my cynicism about men, my friend offered a knowing remark, “Men are all pigs.”
The memory of Alyssa’s triumphant expression haunted me. “I can’t forget the look Alyssa gave me. She looked like she’d won,” I confessed, the bitterness of humiliation still fresh in my mind.
Her intent became clearer as my friend analyzed the situation. “She wanted you to see it, she wanted to humiliate you,” she said with conviction. A moment of silence hung between us before she continued, “You are the wife of the future Capo dei Capi. If someone humiliates you, they are practically insulting Gio.”
A bitter scoff escaped me as I mulled over the tangled mess of emotions. “Well, he was busy helping her insult me.”
Amidst the conversation, a glimmer of dark humor emerged. “I hope his dick falls off,” my friend quipped, a reflection of the shared disdain for the source of my distress.
I couldn’t help but manage a wry smile. “I’m not holding my breath.”
The discussion turned to the repercussions that awaited Dario, the man who had let me escape this web. “I bet Dario’s getting his ass kicked for letting you slip away. Serves him right.”
Empathy briefly flickered within me for Dario, but reality hit hard. He had known about Alyssa all along, his guilt etched on his face. The question lingered – how many others were privy to this knowledge, reveling in my vulnerability behind closed doors?
Shifting gears, my friend inquired about my contact with Millie, inadvertently bringing up a slice of my past life. Sienna’s voice intervened, spirited and excited, yet intrusively curious. The spat that ensued between them painted a picture of family dynamics, a bittersweet reminder of what life used to be.
Returning to the present predicament, my friend’s concern remained steadfast. “So what now?” she asked, her voice carrying the weight of uncertainty.
A sigh tinged with resignation escaped my lips. “I honestly don’t know.” Settling the bill, I left the restaurant, venturing out into the bustling streets cloaked in the cover of night. The city was alive with people – some heading home after a leisurely dinner, others seeking the vibrant nightlife of clubs and bars.
The advice turned more assertive, a call to arms against the injustices I faced. “You can’t let him treat you like that. You must fight back.”
The idea of confronting Gio head-on was daunting. “I don’t know if fighting Gio is something I want to do,” I admitted, torn between defiance and the knowledge of the formidable world I inhabited.
The conversation delved deeper into strategies, ranging from vengeance to defiance. “What can he do to you? You aren’t his enemy or his soldier, and he said he didn’t beat women, nor would he force himself on you. What’s left? Lock you in your room without dinner?”
The weight of my circumstances settled in as I sighed audibly, feeling trapped by my own situation.
A more radical suggestion emerged, one that seemed to both intrigue and terrify me. “Maybe you should cheat on him. Go to a club, find a hot guy and sleep with him.”
Yet, the potential consequences loomed large. “He’d kill him. I don’t want blood on my hands.”
In the end, my resolve wavered, but an alternative approach emerged. “Then do something else. I don’t care as long as you pay Gio back for what he’s doing to you. He’ll probably just keep cheating on you. Fight back.”
Acknowledging the fundamental difference between us, I offered a glimpse into my temperament. “But Harper was the fighter. I preferred subtle tactics.”
A plan of action crystallized – a necessary step to regain control. “I should get rid of this phone now. I need more time to think and don’t want Gio to track me down.”
The bond between us was palpable as my friend’s concern spilled over. “Call me as soon as you can. No matter the time. If I don’t hear from you tomorrow morning, I don’t care who I have to take down to fly to New York.”
With a promise made and emotions laid bare, I bid her farewell, knowing the path I had chosen was shrouded in uncertainty. “Okay. Love you.” The call ended, and I took decisive action, severing the last link to my old life by disabling and discarding my phone. Left to wander the shadowy streets, weariness gnawed at me, yet a flicker of determination burned bright. The image of Gio’s frustration and helplessness fueled my steps, a small victory in a world that thrived on power and control.
I purchased a steaming cup of coffee, its warmth seeping through the paper cup and enveloping my fingers. Leaning against the welcoming facade of the corner coffee shop, I watched as the ebb and flow of passersby gradually thinned. The sight of couples strolling by, holding hands, sharing kisses, and lost in laughter, sent a pang through my chest. It was a bittersweet ache, the residue of my earlier tears and emotional exhaustion. Weariness weighed down my eyes, a testament to the battles I had fought within myself.