MadeleineI wake at the break of dawn, suppressing a cry as my body calls out in pain. Despite the sinfully soft, comfortable mattress, everything hurts. From my head to my toes. It feels as if I went through a meat grinder and lived to tell the tale.Betsy!I have to find her. We must leave. The sooner, the better. I don’t know where we’ll go or what we’ll do yet, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.I slowly and carefully roll to the edge of the bed and swing my legs over. The bed is so high, that my feet dangle halfway to the floor, and the thought of jumping down terrifies me. But I desperately need to pee, and I have to find Betsy. The sun is rising, and if she can’t find me by the time she wakes up, she’ll go mad. Rafael was patient with her yesterday, but he’ll get sick of her meltdowns - everyone does in the end.‘You can do this Madeleine,’ I say to myself and jump down, groaning as pain rockets up my legs and spine.I inhale sharply and hold on to the bed to steady myself b
RafaelI stare at my swollen, bruised knuckles around Madeleine’s wrist. It was the first time in a while that I actually got my own hands dirty. I did it for her. And the landlord was just the first of many.After I broke his face, he finally told me the truth. It wasn’t Bruce who was behind the whole thing - the cops, their assault, Madeleine’s eviction, the destruction of her treasured memories. It was Delilah. And I let her go. Like a fucking fool. I allowed sentiment to cloud my judgement. I won’t make that mistake again.“You are starting to test my patience, Madeleine,” I grit the words past my teeth. “Then let us go,” she says, lifting her chin defiantly. “I didn’t ask you to bring us here.”If she were anyone else, she’d be over my lap right now, getting the spanking she so richly deserves. “A little gratitude is in order.” I purposefully drop my voice lower. “I saved your life yesterday. I saved your sister. I am giving you a home.”Her shoulders slump. “Yes. You are right
RafaelAs soon as everyone vacates my office, I sit down behind the desk and pull a burner phone out of the drawer. I have dozens of them. Use a phone once and destroy it. Technology makes it damn near impossible to be a decent criminal these days.I put a call in to Sforza. He answers after an eternity, voice still thick with sleep. Our business mostly takes place at night, so it’s rare for us to be awake at such an early hour.Still, one would think after losing a million dollars in cargo, he’d be awake and looking for a solution. “What do you want, Andoletti?” Sforza answers curtly. "I just came to bed."“Real nice,” I answer, my tone measured and even. “After what you’ve done at my place of business no less.”“What I did?” he scoffs. “What about you?”He is not on a secure line, and I don’t talk business on our official cell phones.“Phone me back on this number in five,” I cut him off.I throw the burner on my desk and sit back, knotting my fingers behind my head while I wait for
MadeleineI fell asleep again after the doctor’s visit. His news was rather grim. Most of my injuries from the beating I took yesterday would heal just fine, but the poison is another story. He suspects that I might have permanent nerve damage.He wants me to undergo further testing, but after I explained to him that I couldn’t pay for such expensive tests, he simply gave me an injection for the pain and left. Now I’m wide awake and more wired than a bunny on meth. I am restless, not sure what to do with myself.The doctor left a bottle of painkillers for me to take, but I haven’t needed it. He did say it’s only for the nerve pain, and since I don’t know what that’s supposed to feel like, I just left it.He confirmed my own assertion that the best cure for the body aches after the beating is to move around as much as possible but to, in his words, “not overdo it, unless you want to end up in the hospital.”After a few hours of dawdling in the bedroom with nothing much to do apart fro
MadeleineFlabbergasted, I stare at Rafael. “Thank you?”“Yes. That’s usually what people say after someone did them a solid.”“Wow,” I snort. “You really have a set of balls on you, don’t you? You are trying to buy my sister’s love, trying to… get her to turn on me, and you want me to thank you for it?”Rafael’s eyebrows lift into a lazy question. “Do you think so lowly of me? Have I not proven myself to you yet?”“Proven what?” I spit out. “First you poisoned me, then you-” I make air quotes -“rescued me, and now you’re holding me captive.”“Ah.” He tilts his head back, a condescending smile playing over his lips. “The poisoning was… unfortunate, I’ll grant you. I didn’t know it was you. I never saw you without your full habit, Madeleine. I didn’t even know you were blonde.”“So that justifies murder, does it?”“It was self-defence. From my point of view, you were trying to kill me.” He grips his hips and gives me a look that reminds me so much of Dom that I feel my heart break. Wh
RafaelOh God. I almost gave in. Almost.Her innocence is intoxicating, drawing me in like a man starved. It would have been so easy - just one kiss, just one taste. But I didn't bring her here for that. I’m not that man. I refuse to be that man.She is not for me. Not in that way. I didn’t bring her here to fuck her like a common whore. She is so much better than that. But she can never know, and she will never know.She will remain untouched. My Sister Francis. My saint.She wanted me - I saw it in her eyes. But I know what it was. Not desire. Not for me. Just loneliness. Just a need for warmth. Something innocent.I almost took it from her.“Will you come with me willingly?” I ask. “Or would you prefer it if I carry you again?”She looks at me, and I know she sees him. Dom. The man I should have been. The man I buried.And God help me, I wanted to give her that. I wanted to be him again.Just for a moment. Just for her.I thought I loved my life before. My life away from my family
Rafael“Get out,” I say to Claire, one of my maids, as I enter the kitchen with Madeleine.The maid drops the potatoes she’s peeling and rushes to leave the kitchen through the back door that leads out onto the lawn, where one of the groundskeepers is busy putting up Betsy’s new playset.Madeleine sees it, but doesn’t comment. Her disapproving scowl and the nasty looks she’s giving me tells me everything I need to know.“Here,” I say and pull out one of the bar stools next to the kitchen island. “Take a seat.”I have been choked before - I know what it feels like - and the doctor told me that the poison she took was slightly caustic, so her throat has been burned pretty badly, but he thinks her mouth and throat will heal.He’s not so sure about the potential nerve damage.It’s a concern, and something that could follow her around for the rest of her life. And I did it to her, she was right about that. I allow myself a moment to feel the guilt. It’s there, sharp and lingering, but the
RafaelThere’s no sign of Paulie when we pull up to the police station. He’s either inside, or sitting somewhere out of sight, keeping an eye on the situation.“Stay here,” I say to Enzo and slam the door shut before I jog across the street.I have no idea what Bruce’s plan is. He must know that coming here is a fatal mistake - the man is a scumbag, but he’s not stupid.Unless he’s hoping the feds will give him protection if he turns state’s witness.If that’s the case, he came to the wrong fucking place.I step inside the air-conditioned police station. People stop. Avert their gaze. Turn around and flee the other way.Only a few of the officers - the ones with honour - stand their ground, refusing to back down to me.They believe they’re better than I am. And fuck it, they are.I walk up to the front desk. “Where is Bruce Carmichael?”Without even looking up, the officer mutters, “Interrogation room three.”With a curt nod, I turn right and walk through the busy station, my back stra
RafaelEnzo comes sauntering over to our table. We've been drinking and joking around for a while now, and he kept himself seperate from us on purpose. That, in itself, is the height of disrespect - not just for me, but also my captains.The old guys have slipped into ‘nostalgia mode,’ as I call it, and they’re talking about the good old days. When they get tipsy, they get weepy about how things used to be easier and different. I doubt it was any easier than it is now, they just forgot the uncertainty, the fear of not knowing when an enemy would come up to you and pull the trigger.During a war, safety isn't guaranteed. Death is. In our line of work, your life is always on the line no matter what, but when there's a war the risk increases ten-fold.Not that anyone would ever admit that they were scared. Everyone’s a hero in their own minds - and so are all the men who died during that time.Everyone falls quiet when Enzo pulls a chair over and takes a seat at the table. He wasn’t par
RafaelFor the first time since the night of the stabbing, Enzo shows up and actually looks surprised to see me out and about, acting as if nothing had happened.I can feel it though. Every passing minute is nothing short of torture, and it's getting progressively worse. “Look who finally decided ta show up,” Paulie says and shoots a nasty glance Enzo’s way.I haven’t spoken to Salvatore yet. I wanted to wait a few more days until I could formulate my thoughts better Right now, all my decisions are driven by pain and rage - and when you feel like that, it's not a good time to make life or death decisions.“Yeah,” Enzo says and holds the present in his hands out to me. “Sorry I’m late, Boss. I had some business.”I glare at my lieutenant, and completely ignore his apology. “You can put your gift on the table over there,” I say and point to a table that’s piled high with colourfully wrapped presents.Enzo looks taken aback at first, but then he nods and heads over to the table.“That p
MadeleineThe men and women split into two groups. The guys congregate around the grill or the coolerboxes filled with beer. The women gather at their tables, in the kitchen to make salads, butter rolls, or to pour ice tea into pitchers.Rafael has a whole staff in the house, but none of them are here today, and I think it's some kind of traditional thing for the women to hang out in the kitchen. The places is crowded, the women are loud, and all of them are complaining about their husbands or children. I find it strange and endearing at the same time.“You’re quiet,” Angelica says as she dumps a container of mayonnaise over some potatoes.“I’m listening,” I answer her.“Oh honey,” one of the women, I think it’s Clara, snort-laughs at me. “You cain’t afford to be quiet. You’re Rafael's wife.”“Fiancèe,” I correct her.“Potato, poe-tah-toe,” she replies. “It’s the same difference to us. You live together as man and wife, you are man and wife.”I blush at the thinly veiled insinuation,
MadeleineThe woman with the big hair throws herself in Rafael’s embrace. I let him go and stand back, watching on as he awkwardly hugs her with one arm. “Raffie,” she exclaims and stands back, then grabs his face between her hands. “Let me look at you. Are you eating enough? Sleeping. You look sick.”Rafael sighs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn't push her away. "I'm fine," he answers and gently pulls her hands from his face.She looks like the grown up version of the girl in the portrait - only with bigger hair and a lot more make-up. I just assume she’s his sister.Out of nowhere, she punches Rafael in the arm. “You don’t call, you don’t write. I should strangle you.”“I'm sorry Angelica,” Rafael says, almost indulgently, and rubs his arm, shutting her out at the same time. “I've been a little busy." He looks around the lawn at the people milling about. "Where is David this time?”“Oh, who knows?” she answers, completely unbothered.“And the kids?”“With Uncle Frankie. You know how
RafaelMadeleine keeps the nightmares away. Her presence alone is enough. She doesn’t need to hold me, or whisper comforts in my ear. Just knowing that she’s next to me helps.I drift off to sleep and don't wake again until the sun lights up the room, and the sound of chirping birds pierces the through my dreams.For the first time in weeks, I feel rested. Refreshed. Still in pain, but I am almost my old self again. I should be able to make it through the cookout okay. I will not be drinking and laughing along with the rest of them, but I will be able to grin and bear it.Frankie can take the children out on the boat. It’s usually my job, something I always enjoy, but I have a feeling my stomach won’t thank me if I take it out on the choppy lake today.“Morning,” Madeleine chirps and comes walking out of the bathroom with wet hair and only a towel wrapped around herself.My heart jumps into my throat, and my body reacts in a surprisingly violent way. If I could move at my regular sp
RafaelI feel a lot better after the transfusion. Ethel was right, I definitely needed it. And so was Madeleine when she told me I had to get proper medical care.But neither of them will ever hear the truth from my lips.The pain is still ever-present. Betsy's kick to my gut did more damage than I thought was possilbe - a little girl like her shouldn't be able to put a grown man out of commission. Part of it is my own, stupid fucking fault. I shouldn’t have picked her up mid-tantrum. Not in my current state anyway.At some point, as I drift in and out of consciousness, Madeleine gest up and leaves the room with Ethel. It’s just me and my thoughts. I try to conjure the image of Sister Francis. The quiet, pretty, understanding girl with her gentle eyes, but she’s gone. Everytime I try to recall her, I see a blank face surrounded by the grey habit of their order.Or Sister Francis melts away, and is replaced by Madeleine.I feel as if I went through a wormhole to an alternate reality
RafaelI am pain. It’s become one with my being. It’s a part of me. At least for now.Walking down the hallway, leaning heavily on Madeleine, is like trekking through an obstacle course filled with broken glass and razor blades tearing at my flesh.God. Even my feet hurt.I didn’t know a person could be in this much pain, bleed as much as I have, and still live to tell the tale.With a sigh and a grunt, I fall on Madeleine’s bed, and just lie there with my feet dangling on the floor. Ethel is close behind, fussing over me like she’s my mother as she lifts my legs up and pulls the comforter over me.She always did like me. Even when we were children. She’d follow me around like a mama hen, making sure I didn’t fall in the water or run off to the guard house. Whenever she was around, she made it her personal mission to keep me away from the wiseguys.She was pissed when I came back. After my father’s funeral, while everyone sat around in the parlour remembering the old man, she pulled
MadeleineBetsy destroyed her room. I knew she would. Thank goodness Rafael removed everything of value from the room - including that expensive looking ballerina figurine.The pretty room, fit for a little princess as she wanted it to be, is now a dump. She destroyed the dollhouse. Her dolls have no heads or legs. The potted plant with the little pink flowers has been overturned and the dirt scattered.She shredded her bedding and tore her pillows open, scattering stuffing all over the room. The pink curtains are in tatters. On the floor, next to the room, is the pair of scissors she used to do it.I’ve never seen this level of destruction from her.Rafael is going to lose his damn mind.I’m going to lose my mind.The anger that washes over me is something I’ve never experienced before. For the first time since I’ve had to take her into my care, I want to put her over my knee and spank her.Betsy is sitting in the middle of the room, covered in dirt, stuffing stuck in her hair like l
MadeleineI watch on in horror as Rafael sinks to the ground, clutching his middle. His shirt is soaked in blood. Ethel rushes over to his side and lifts his shirt, while Marco just stands there like a statue, pale and shocked.I turn on my guard and say the first thing that pops into my head, “Tell no one about this."The young man may be too soft for this line of work, but I know he’s loyal. He sits outside my door, day in and day out, all in an effort to get Rafael’s approval.“Are you sure? Maybe-”“I’m sure,” I interrupt him. “He told me no one can know.”I glare at Ethel who looks up and just nods. “Patient confidentiality. I understand. What do you want to do?”The door rattles as Betsy screams and throws herself against it. It jars my nerves and eats away at my sanity one little bite at a time.All my senses are in overdrive. I don’t know what to do or where to turn. Betsy in one room losing her everloving mind, or Rafael who is bleeding out on the floor.I’m in desperate need