I Hope You Suffer, My Ex Mafia Husband Chapter 8

Dante's POV

Amanda walked toward him.

Dante was still on his knees, unable to stand, unable to think past the roaring in his ears.

She stopped right in front of him.

He looked up at her through blurred vision.

"Amanda—"

"Did she force you?" Her voice was quiet but it cut right through him. "Did Maggie put a gun to your head and make you kill our baby?"

"I—" His throat closed up.

"Did she drug you? Tie you down? Threaten your life if you didn't sign those papers?" Amanda's eyes were dry, but somehow that made it worse. "Tell me, Dante. How exactly did she *force* you to murder our child?"

He flinched at the word murder, because that's what it was, what he'd done.

"It wasn't... I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't mean to." She laughed, "You just accidentally ordered them to strap me down. Accidentally signed the consent forms. Accidentally stood there and watched while they ripped our baby out of my body."

"Amanda, please—"

"Do you know what it feels like?" Her voice started shaking. "Being awake during a forced abortion? Feeling them scrape your child out of you while you're screaming and begging them to stop?"

Dante's stomach lurched and he thought he was going to be sick right there on the marble floor.

"I begged you." Tears were sliding down her face now, "And you walked away. You chose her over our baby."

"I'm sorry—" The words felt completely useless and pathetic. "God, Amanda, I'm so sorry, I was wrong, I was so fucking wrong—"

"You're sorry." She stared down at him. "You destroyed everything we had. You killed our child for a woman who murdered your best friend. And you think 'sorry' means anything?"

He had nothing to say to that, no defense, no excuse that wouldn't sound like complete bullshit.

Amanda's expression went cold and empty, like she was looking at a stranger.

"Dante Russo, you don't deserve anyone's love. Not mine. Not your child's. Not even your own."

The words carved into him and left him hollow inside.

She turned away and walked back to the altar where Sylvester was waiting with his hand extended toward her. Amanda took it.

"I do," she said clearly, looking into Sylvester's eyes. "I want to marry you, Sylvester Severino. This life and every life after. Till death do us part."

The entire chapel erupted in applause, and Dante was still on his knees, watching his wife marry another man.

"Mr. Russo."

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Dante blinked and realized he was still on the floor. How long had he been sitting there?

His lawyer Anthony was crouched beside him with his face pale and sweating.

"Mr. Russo, we have a serious problem."

"What?" His voice came out hoarse.

"Your bank accounts have been frozen. All of them."

Dante stared at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"The prenup, sir. The adultery clause." Anthony's hands were shaking as he pulled out his tablet. "Your relationship with Mrs. Rossi triggered the 'infidelity forfeiture' provision. Everything reverts to your spouse in the event of proven adultery."

Dante's vision started going dark at the edges.

"How much?"

"The estate, the businesses, the investment portfolios, all real property and liquid assets..." Anthony's voice kept getting quieter. "Current estimated value is approximately two hundred and thirty million dollars."

The number was too big to process, too impossible to be real.

"That's everything."

"Yes, sir. Everything."

Dante thought about the Russo empire his grandfather had built over three generations, and how it was just gone now. He thought about Amanda standing at that altar in her wedding dress, smiling, and realized she'd planned this whole thing, every single piece of it.

"Mr. Russo?" Anthony touched his arm. "Sir, are you alright?"

No. He wasn't alright, and he was never going to be alright again.

A scream cut through the chapel and Dante's head jerked up. Maggie was shoving through the crowd with her face twisted in rage, running straight toward Amanda.

"You BITCH!" Maggie shrieked. "You did this! You ruined everything!"

She was maybe five feet away when Sylvester moved. One second he was standing calmly beside Amanda, and the next his foot connected with Maggie's chest, sending her flying backward.

Sylvester stood over her, completely still.

"Touch my wife again," he said quietly, "and I'll cut the skin from your body one inch at a time, starting with your face."

Maggie was gasping, trying to breathe.

"Sylvester—" Amanda's voice was soft.

He turned to her immediately and his entire demeanor shifted. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. But they..." She glanced at Dante and then looked away quickly, "What happens to them?"

Sylvester kissed her forehead gently. "Don't worry about them. They'll get exactly what they deserve, but you won't have to see it."

He snapped his fingers and six men in black suits appeared, grabbing Dante under the arms and hauling him to his feet.

"Wait—" Dante struggled weakly. "Amanda, please, just let me explain—"

She didn't look at him.

The guards dragged him toward the exit, past hundreds of staring faces. Behind him, he heard Maggie screaming as they pulled her out too. The last thing Dante saw before the chapel doors closed was Amanda and Sylvester standing together at the altar with his arm around her waist.

One Month Later

The brothel was on the outskirts of Tijuana, a crumbling concrete building with barred windows and the stink of cheap perfume and desperation.

Maggie lay on a stained mattress in a windowless room, staring at the ceiling. Her passport was gone, her phone was gone, and the madam had taken everything the first day.

In the darkness, Maggie closed her eyes and tried to remember what hope felt like, but she couldn't.

Dante huddled in the doorway of an abandoned building, trying to get out of the rain. His legs were shattered in three places each and they'd healed wrong, left him twisted and useless. He could barely walk and had to drag himself along the sidewalk on his hands.

The tattoo across his face burned in the cold. TRADITORE. Traitor. In letters two inches high, right across his forehead. No one would hire him and no one would help him.

A black town car drove past, slowing slightly at the red light. Through the tinted window, Dante caught a glimpse of movement, a woman with dark hair, laughing, and a man's arm around her shoulders pulling her close.

Amanda.

The car accelerated and disappeared into the rain.

Dante slumped against the wall with rain soaking through his clothes. "Amanda..." The word came out broken. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry..."

But she was gone, and he was exactly where he deserved to be, in the gutter, in the rain, with nothing and no one, completely alone.