The Mafia Heir Called Me a Gold Digger, Then He Lost Everything Chapter 2

"Mess? Filth? And... emotional distress?"

I repeated his words under my breath, and something twisted in my chest.

This house had been bought for Victor.

We had looked at a lot of places together. Some were cheaper. Some were bigger.

This one was smaller, yet it cost far more than the others because of its location.

It was far more than my mother and I could afford.

But after we had seen every one of them, Victor said in a subdued voice, "This house looks like the one I grew up in. Living here would feel like home."

Because of that one sentence, my mother sold our old family house and bought this one.

The mortgage was heavy enough to crush the two of us.

Her illness got worse because she worked herself into the ground to keep up with the payments.

I clenched my fists and tried to steady myself.

But the tears came faster and faster, and my body started to shake on its own.

Victor panicked again.

"Elena, I was only joking. I didn't really mean to..."

Camilla cut him off with a sneer. "Elena, do you think a few tears can erase everything Victor has suffered being with you all these years? Victor, the woman you picked is a real pro. She knows when to threaten and when to cry. She's even better at milking a man for money than I thought."

The concern in Victor's eyes hardened into suspicion.

"Elena, threats didn't work, so now it's the sob story? How did I never know you were this scheming?"

Behind him, Camilla let a satisfied little smile show.

Watching the two of them play off each other, I suddenly felt calm.

Once people had decided to smear you, explanations and arguments meant nothing.

I was done tangling with them.

"Victor, I don't owe you anything. You're not getting a cent of that so-called compensation. What you're going to do is put back every cent of the hundred and fifty thousand you took out of my account. Every cent! Or I'll ask the Sicilian Don whether his heir apparent is so broke he can't repay a hundred and fifty thousand dollars!"

Victor's face went ashen.

"Elena, you're threatening me over pocket change like that?"

Looking at that face, so familiar and so strange, I thought of what my mother had asked of me before she died.

"Elena, Victor is a man you can trust your life to. The two of you should build a good life together."

Back then he really was.

When my fever wouldn't break, he sat up by my bed all night, changing the cloth on my forehead over and over.

When my mother broke a bone, he cooked for her himself and simmered bone broth for her.

What she never knew was that she had trusted penniless Victor, not Victor, the Sicilian Don's heir apparent.

"Victor, let's break up."

Saying those words out loud myself made me feel much lighter.

His face changed and he grabbed my hand. "Break up? You're saying that to me? I don't accept it. Who are you to dump me?"

He had always placed himself above me.

As if being with me were a favor he was doing me.

I simply met his gaze calmly.

"Victor, in your eyes, I've always been some schemer trying to climb my way up to you. So go find a woman you think is worthy of the Don's heir apparent, and have the kind of romance you think he deserves."

I didn't want to say another word to him. I picked up my suitcase, went around him, opened the door, and left.

The door slammed, and Victor roared after me, "Elena, you'll regret this."

I ignored the threat, and I cared even less about who he would be having dinner with that night.

The moment he moved the hundred and fifty thousand dollars meant for my mother's treatment out of my account, we were finished.