Page 3 of Bad Husband

“That might take a little bit of time,” Paulie said. “I’ll have to strip the images back, and it depends on how good they were at covering the original footage.”

“Do it,” he said.

It was time for him to know the truth. Part of him wanted Chiara to be in the wrong, because if she wasn’t, he banished his wife without giving her a chance to explain.

****

“Ouch,” Chiara said, and winced as she looked down at her bleeding finger. Of course, she would be the one to give herself a papercut on a freaking tissue. Admittedly, these tissues were a little on the hard side, and not exactly soft ply.

She shoved her finger into her mouth, sucking the blood, and the metallic taste made her feel sick to her stomach. Once she was sure there was no more blood, she grabbed the latest burgers and fries order, and carried it over to the visitors of No Point. That was where she ended up, of all places—No Point.

Never in all of her life had she been so afraid than the moment she stepped into No Point. Broken, bleeding, and terrified, with no money. Thankfully, Rosemary, who ran the diner, had taken pity on her. She’d seen her bruised face and somewhat broken personality, and she had taken her in. Although Arnold, the local cop, hadn’t been too pleased.

If it weren’t for Rosemary, she had a horrible feeling she’d have been thrown out of this town, which consisted of one long stretch of road, and then off from it, multiple streets and houses. Most of the locals went out of town to work, and there were only a few shops left open. There was a mall about thirty minutes away, but that didn’t stop the town from being busy.

At first, she had been afraid at how many people were always around, but it was a place where families, hikers, truckers, and anyone who was anyone liked to pass through. Especially if they wanted to take the scenic route. No Point was the journey to make, as it was a place that literally ran straight through one road, and there were no points.

After working for Rosemary for a couple of weeks, she earned some tips by her excellent customer service, and that didn’t mean giving men blowjobs in the bathroom, like Heather did. Chiara was a good listener. She talked with the people, enjoyed conversation, and she got tipped for it. No job was ever too big. She was always happy to serve them.

Sometimes, she did find it funny thinking if they knew she was the daughter of a mafia capo, they would treat her differently. That was all in the past.

She used her money and tips to rent a small place not too far from here. Actually, it wasn’t even a house, but an old trailer. Heather had warned her there was the good trailer park and the bad one. Taking Heather’s advice, she got onto the good trailer park, and she was set back far from anyone else. It wasn’t much, but it was home. A warm bed at night, food she was able to eat. Thankfully, Rosemary had been happy to give her cooking lessons.

The assumption from the locals was, she was a battered wife running from her husband, which was kind of accurate. Marco didn’t do the hitting, however, he did point a gun at her forehead and was convinced she was a lying, cheating bitch. That stung. If their roles were reversed, she would have given him the benefit of the doubt. Not now.

Now, she just wanted to find a way to clear her name, but to do that, she needed to pay a private investigator. This was proving even more difficult as the PI at No Point, Raul, was a scam artist, time waster, and just not someone she wanted to employ. He was a giant pain in the ass.

And that was just when it came to his order. He’d even attempted to get food for free, although she watched him pull out a strand of his own hair and shove it in his mashed potatoes. It helped that he had red hair, and no one serving had red hair. Rosemary had slapped him around the back of the head with her towel. That seemed to be a thing Rosemary was known for. If you pissed her off, you got the back-of-the-head towel treatment. Heather had gotten that a time or two. So far, Chiara was in the clear. Chiara didn’t know if that was because she was very good at her job, or Rosemary had taken pity on her. Either way, she didn’t mind that she’d not been spanked with a towel.

She offered a smile to the customers and told them to have a nice day. Next, she got to Martin, who was the local DIY specialist—plumber, electrician, and general know-it-all when it came to housing. There was nothing he couldn’t do.

She got him his slice of cherry pie, then got back behind the counter, filling the containers with paper towels and wiping down the surfaces. Next, she filled the salt and pepper, and like every other time, she sneezed. The whole diner said “bless you,” and she smiled.

Six months was all it took to make herself one of the locals. She looked down at her wedding finger. The only sign that she had been married was the slight mark from wearing her ring.

She shook her hand out of the way, because what made her life easier was she didn’t think about those moments. That fear wasn’t worth it. She was never going to forgive Marco for what he did. She never saw the footage that was so damning. There was no chance to defend herself.

She missed her dad. Marco hadn’t let either of them say goodbye. They’d been torn apart at the whim of her husband. She had been falling for him so badly, but that man was a terrible husband.

This was the best thing that could have happened to her. An easy break. She needed to see it as such. This was now freedom. She was finally free to live her own life, and she was no longer a Bove Mafia princess.

She was Chiara, waitress and trailer park renter.

Chapter Two

Marco was the world’s biggest fool.

It had taken Paulie a week, that was all, one week to show him the real images of that video. His wife was nowhere near any of them, because as it turned out, Chiara had been at the doctor’s during one of those days. Paulie had cross-referenced every outing.

All the videos were taken around Christmas, a time of the year his wife absolutely loved. She’d been preparing for Christmas, organizing food, gathering presents, including Poodles, the labrador puppy that had come to his home, and immediately been sent away. He went and got Poodles, which is what his wife had called him. The labrador he had always wanted, even as a boy. During their honeymoon, Chiara had asked him to tell her something no one else knew about him. So, he told her about being a young boy and his father had loved dogs but considered them a huge responsibility. His father had told him he would tell him when he was able to have a dog of his own.

In the end, his father would end up dying, being killed in a hit-and-run, with his dog and his wife. Marco took over as the Volpi Capo, took his rightful place, and he buried his father’s dog, along with him, as he knew that was what he wanted. He never got the go-ahead from his dad, and now as he sat with Poodles on his lap, he knew Chiara had actually been listening to him. He stroked Poodles’ head, and then looked up as Angelo, Chiara’s father, came into his office.

“What is it?” Angelo asked.

Marco spun his laptop around and clicked a button. The moaning and sounds came across the screen.

“What is this?” Angelo asked.