My Husband Chose the Wrong Mafia Princess novel · Chapter 1 of 16
Chapter 1: The Shower
Three days before her due date, Mara's husband walks into her baby shower with his pregnant mistress and leaves her in front of everyone, and that night she wakes to the nursery on fire.
Three days before I gave birth, my husband walked into my baby shower holding another woman's hand.
She was pregnant too.
Five months, maybe.
She wore a tight white dress so nobody could miss it.
Twenty people stood in my backyard with paper plates of cake.
My coworkers from the dental office. Two neighbors. Nate's cousin.
Somebody's phone was still playing a lullaby playlist.
Nobody turned it off.
"Nate?" I said.
I was sitting in the only chair with arms, because I couldn't get out of the others anymore.
My feet were in a bucket of ice water.
He didn't look at my feet.
He looked at the pink balloons on the fence.
"We need to talk," he said. "Might as well be now. Everybody's going to hear anyway."
The woman smiled at me.
She had red nails and winged eyeliner and a very expensive bag.
"This is Gianna," Nate said. "Gianna Ferro."
He said the last name like it should mean something to me.
It did.
I kept my face still.
"Hi, Gianna," I said. "Are you lost?"
Somebody laughed and turned it into a cough.
Gianna's smile got smaller.
"Nate's moving in with me," she said. "The baby's his. I figured you should hear it from me, woman to woman."
My friend set her plate down on the gift table.
It slid off and hit the grass.
"You're pregnant," I said to Nate. "I'm pregnant. I'm due Friday."
"I know when you're due, Mara."
"Then why is she here?"
He finally looked at me.
Five years of marriage, and I had never seen his eyes that flat.
"Because I'm done pretending this works," he said. "Look at you."
I looked down at myself.
A stretched-out blue dress. Swollen ankles in a bucket.
"You're weak," Nate said. "You've got no family, no money, no connections. You're a bookkeeper for a dentist."
"I kept your books for free for three years."
"You're powerless," he said, louder. "And you're useless to my business."
Nobody moved.
The lullaby ended and the next one started.
"Gianna's father runs the docks at Port Newark," Nate said. "For the Albaneses. You know what that means?"
I knew exactly what it meant.
He didn't know that I knew.
"It means I'm finally going to get somewhere," he said. "And I'm not dragging dead weight along."
Gianna touched his arm.
"Tell her about the house, baby."
Nate cleared his throat.
"Gianna likes the house. It's close to the port. She wants to raise our kid here."
I laughed.
I didn't mean to.
It came out of me like a hiccup.
"This house is in my name," I said. "My mother's money bought it. Every brick."
"We're married. Half of everything is mine."
"Then take your half and go."
Gianna walked over to the gift table.
She ran a red nail along the white crib my friend had built for me that morning.
It still had the ribbon on it.
"This is cute," she said. "I'll keep it. Our baby's due first anyway. Oh wait."
She laughed at her own joke.
A couple of Nate's friends laughed with her.
His cousin did not.
"Get away from that," I said.
"Or what?" Gianna said. "You'll waddle at me?"
I pulled my feet out of the ice bucket.
It took me two tries to stand.
My friend grabbed my elbow.
I walked across the grass, wet feet and all, and put my hand flat on the crib.
"Get out of my yard," I said to Gianna.
Her eyes went sharp.
She leaned in close enough that I smelled her perfume.
"Do you know who my father is?" she whispered. "I'm a Ferro. I'm a mafia princess, sweetie. People who talk to me like that disappear."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Get out of my yard," I said again.
Nate grabbed Gianna's hand and pulled her toward the gate.
At the gate he turned around.
"You've got until tonight to see sense, Mara. Sign the house over and you'll get something. Fight me, and you get nothing."
"I'm not signing anything."
"Then you'll get nothing," he said. "I promise you that."
The gate banged shut.
Everybody left fast after that.
They hugged me on the way out without looking at me.
My friend stayed and helped me carry the crib upstairs into the nursery.
I had painted it yellow myself in January.
In the closet was the box with my mother's pearl rosary.
The only thing of hers I'd kept.
I touched it for luck, the way I did every night.
Nate didn't come home.
At eleven I locked the doors and lay down on my side with a pillow between my knees.
The baby kicked me in the ribs.
I told her it was okay.
I didn't know I was lying.
At two in the morning the smoke alarm screamed.
I opened my eyes and the hall was orange.
The nursery door was glowing around the edges.
It was on fire.
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