My Mafia Husband Turned Our Son’s Party Into His Mistress's Wedding
Hannah Air · Completed · 6.8k Words
Introduction
The next day, the Miller family summoned me and my son back to the estate and announced in front of everyone: Betty was pregnant. She would be the new Donna. And I -- a “blind woman” -- was only fit to be a maid.
As if that wasn’t enough, they demanded I hand over the bracelet Harvey once gave me, like they were peeling away the last shred of my dignity.
I thought if I endured it, at least my son could keep some decency -- he had taken first place in a piano competition, and all he wanted was for his father to keep his promise.
But Harvey tricked us to the “victory party”... only to announce, in the grand hall, that it was his wedding to Betty.
My son was shoved down in front of everyone, humiliated, and in the end he could only whisper, calling him “Don Harvey,” begging them to stop hurting me. That night, he was forced to grow up. And I gave up completely.
Chapter 1
The church bells of Christmas night had already rung. It wasn’t until after midnight that the lock finally clicked open and Harvey came home.
I’m blind, which means my sense of smell is sharp. I could catch him from far away: that faint smoke on his clothes, and the perfume on his “sister” Betty -- tuberose, white musk, and a whisper of silverleaf underneath.
That scent is famous for one thing: it makes people want each other.
It wasn’t hard to picture what kind of breathless, heated scene had happened between him and his Betty.
He walked up to me and opened his arms, pulling me into a hug.
The weed smell hit harder. My stomach rolled so violently I almost gagged.
Calmly -- deliberately -- I pushed him away.
“Harvey. Go take a shower first,” I said flatly. My nose caught the damp, sticky after-smell of sex.
He took a reflexive step back.
“I’m sorry, Skyler,” he murmured. “Blame it on the fact that I’m only the Miller family’s adopted son. But don’t worry. Betty’s pregnant now. Soon, you’ll be able to become the Miller family’s Donna.”
He said it like those words could magically stitch up the raw, bleeding wound in my chest.
I pressed my lips together, drawing in a deep breath, forcing down the pain that was about to swallow me whole.
“Harvey... I don’t want to be the Miller family’s Donna.” My voice shook anyway. “I just want to be with you openly... like a real family.”
“Do you even know what you’re saying?” Ever since he got hooked, Harvey’s moods had become unpredictable. “If I leave the Miller family, who’s going to pay for my expensive heroin?”
My hands were trembling. My voice came out thin. “You said you wouldn’t touch it anymore.”
He paused for a second, then sat down beside me and pulled me into that disgusting cloud of smell.
“Skyler, I swear to you, you’ll always be the one I love most. Once Betty gives birth to the heir, I’ll cut her off completely. I’ll make you my wife. Okay?”
His words softened me for a heartbeat.
But the second my mind flashed to him tangled up with Betty, the fire inside me flared right back up.
“Go shower,” I repeated. I slipped free of his arms and stood, feeling my way back to my room.
Harvey didn’t even sense my disappointment. He said casually, “Don’t worry, Skyler. I’ll spend more time with you. Betty understands. She wants me to be with you more, too.”
I didn’t answer. I kept my back to him.
How ridiculous.
Even as his wife, wanting time with him still required another woman’s permission.
I felt like a mistress -- like an inconvenience that got in the way of his inheritance and his drugs.
Just then, one of Betty’s maids screamed, “Miss Miller fainted!”
“I’m coming!” Harvey’s voice turned sharp and urgent. “Go get the doctor. Now.”
Then, as if something suddenly occurred to him, he muttered under his breath, “That’s weird. She was fine after we finished... I even helped her shower...”
His voice cut off abruptly, like he’d realized he’d said something he shouldn’t have.
“I’ll make it up to you, Skyler. Betty’s just pregnant, she needs me with her.”
He didn’t wait for my response. He was already moving toward the door.
Our son’s voice floated out of his room.
“Dad... where are you going?”
Harvey was probably looking at me. I could feel his gaze.
I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms.
“Harvey... you just got home. Can’t you spare even a little time for me and our son?”
He hesitated for one second.
“Wait for me. I’ll be right back,” he said. “My parents aren’t home. Betty needs me. She’s scared to be alone. I have to stay with her.”
Then the door slammed shut with a hard bang.
My heart ripped apart into pieces.
My son walked over to me and asked in a small voice, “Mom... is Dad going to see Auntie again? Aren’t you his wife? Why does he sleep with another woman every night? Isn’t she his sister? How can they sleep together? Why won’t Dad spend Christmas with us?”
I crouched down and hugged him, forcing a smile onto my face.
I opened my mouth -- and realized I couldn’t explain this filthy, humiliating mess to a child.
So I changed the subject. I distracted him. I played games with him until he finally fell asleep.
After that, I lay in bed, my mind a storm, turning over and over, unable to sleep.
Years ago, for Harvey, I gave up my position as the Johnson family’s heir.
My family all believed he wasn’t worthy of me. But I defied them anyway. I ran away with him and followed him to the United States -- to Wall Street.
I had been naive enough to think we’d finally live happily ever after.
But not long after we arrived, I realized Harvey had gotten addicted.
I couldn’t see, but my son told me: Dad was always thin, always pale.
Then Harvey’s father laid down the final order: “Only if you have an heir with Miller blood can you inherit the Miller business and become the new Godfather.”
Every time Harvey came home, he carried Betty’s perfume and a thick smoke smell on his skin.
And every time, he gave me the same hollow promise: “Skyler, wait for me a little longer. I’ll quit. It’ll be over soon. Once I become the Godfather, I’ll give you everything.”
Eight years of love, and in the end all that was left was a pile of shattered promises.
I knew I couldn’t take it anymore.
I called my family in Italy.
“Skyler? Is that you? My daughter -- where are you?” My father’s voice cracked. “Come home, sweetheart. We miss you so much. Your three brothers miss you too.”
Tears blurred my eyes.
It was time to leave.
For my son.
And for myself.
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