The Mafia Wife's Revenge novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: The Table

Helena's POV

The Table met in the back room of a closed Italian restaurant in the Bronx.

There was one long wooden table, five chairs and a plate of bread nobody touched.

Four bosses sat in the chairs.

The oldest was a bent man in a cardigan who had to be helped into his seat.

Damian sat at the far end in a black suit.

Vernon stood behind him, released into Damian's keeping after the night at the firehouse, with three of Damian's men against the wall.

I stood alone in the middle of the floor.

Cillian waited at the door, and he had not looked at me since dawn.

"Mrs. Keane has named a sanctuary," the old boss said. "The seven days are done. What does she ask?"

"Her husband's seat," I said. "And the truth."

Damian smiled at the others.

"Gentlemen, my wife has been ill. She has been misled by people who want my place."

He nodded to the man beside him, who laid a folder on the table.

"Here is her letter, in her own hand, forgiving the woman she now accuses. She signed it in open court, and the judge accepted it."

"If she forgave, why is she here?"

The bosses looked at the page, and one of them nodded.

"The letter is clear," he said.

"It is," I said. "I wrote it."

Every head turned.

"It is my hand, and it was never my word."

"My word alone won't be enough for you."

"So I'll give you other people's."

I turned to the three men along the wall.

The one on the left had a thin face and a nervous throat.

"You," I said. "You cough before you laugh."

He blinked.

"Seven nights ago, in a private room at a hotel on West 44th Street, you said, 'I nearly fell off my seat.'"

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Mafia Wife's Revenge from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.