Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father

My father leads me to a little sitting room just off the dining room, built for little chats like this. We settle on a sofa where we can still see most of the
action at the party, and where, indeed, I have a direct view of Tristin, who glares daggers at me while she holds my baby sister on her lap. Romulus
leans across her, stealing a piece of chocolate from her plate, about which she doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
She’s too busy hating me.
I grimace a little, but turn my attention to my father, who focuses on me.
“What is wrong, daughter,” he says, raising a hand to my cheek and cupping my face softly in his palm. “I can see that you are worried.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, laughing a little and raising my hand to cover my father’s, pretending a fondness and affection that belies the rage that burns in
me whenever I look at this man.
Because I have not forgotten, not for a moment, what Ivan told us: that my father was the one who, alongside him, sold Kent out. That in exchange
for his information, my father was also able to pass a significant number of his crimes onto Kent’s shoulders, adding them to the Lippert rap sheet and

wiping them off his own.
And that, though Ivan’s sudden departure from the city’s drug scene devastated it and has resulted in a great deal less heroin on the streets of our
fair city – which was, in retrospect, probably part of his plan – that my father has absolutely benefitted from this lack, as well as the vacuum in
businesses that was left when Kent was arrested.
My father is now, hands-down, the Mafia King now that Kent has been dethroned.
And yet here he is, looking down at me like the kindest, gentlest man who has ever lived - so concerned for his daughter’s happiness he’ll do
anything in the world to help her.
And suddenly, quite suddenly, as I look up at him I want nothing more than to bare my teeth and to use them to rip out his throat for taking my world
from me, from Daniel, from Kent.
But I have work to do before I can savor that particular pleasure.
“Please, daughter,” my father says, taking his hand from my face and wrapping it around my shoulder. “I want to make you happy. I know that the rug
has been pulled out from under you – that your wedding was hastily done, to account for the miracle growing in your belly. It makes sense that you
are worried – please, let me help you, as a wedding gift.”
I look down at my hands, demure, twisting my fingers together and pretending to hesitate.

Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father
Chapter 0344
Even though there’s no hesitation in me at all. This is precisely what I was waiting for.
“Well,” I say, looking up at him, shy. “I – I admit that...well, father,” I say now, all in a gush, “you know I love Daniel – I don’t want you to think that I
don’t –“
“Of course, of course,” he says, placating, “anyone who looks at the two of you couldn’t help but see it, plain as day.”
Yeah, I think. Anyone who hasn’t seen him with Jerome. Inwardly I roll my eyes, but outwardly I press on with my act.
“Well, he’s so good to me father, and so kind, and thoughtful, but...” I take a deep breath and look fully up into my father’s face, “I don’t think he’s very
good with money.”
My father nods slowly, making soft understanding noises and encouraging me to tell him more.
“Kent left us some,” I say, speaking of him as if he’s dead – which is how I want my father to think of him as well. “But – you know it’s all tied up in
legal issues. We have plenty to get by,” I continue hurriedly, “but...it’s not enough. Not for forever. Especially...” I look down at my stomach now,
letting him fill in the blanks.
“Not enough for the child’s future,” he says, understanding.
I nod, agreeing even though inwardly I laugh. Daniel and I still have the greater part of four million dollars in cash, alongside my beach property and
whatever it is that Daniel has in Europe. If a single baby can’t be raised on this?
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