The Secret Tales of a Mafia Boss

The sterile smell of antiseptic hung heavily in the hospital room, mingling with the faint scent of lilies that Caterina had brought for her mother. Isabelle, Catherina’s mother, laid frail and weakened on the hospital bed, her skin pallid, eyes sunken, her head, now bald from cancer. She knew her time had come when she looked at her daughter with her warm, familiar eyes.

“Caterina,” Isabelle’s voice broke the oppressive silence, soft yet tinged with a familiar mischief. “I’ve got a craving. Think you can help your old woman out?”

Caterina’s heart clenched at the sound of her mother’s voice, so fragile, so different from the strong woman who had raised her. Despite the pain, Isabelle’s request carried an almost playful tone, a fleeting echo of the woman she used to be, bringing a bittersweet smile to Caterina’s face.

“What is it, Mama?” Caterina asked, forcing her smile to remain steady. “Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.”

Isabelle’s lips curled into a faint smile, a ghost of her former self. “That apple tart… from the bakery down the street. Remember? We used to get it on those lazy Sunday afternoons.”

Caterina laughed softly, not wanting her mum to see the tears threatening to pour out of her eyes. “Mama, you always did have a sweet tooth.”

“Guilty as charged,” Isabelle replied, her voice weakening but still brimming with humor. She squeezed Caterina’s hand with the last bit of her strength. “Go on, before they sell out.”

Caterina hesitated, her gaze lingering on her mother’s face. There was a deep sadness in Isabelle’s eyes made her want to stay, to hold on to this moment. But Isabelle’s smile still remained, and Caterina, not wanting to deny her mother’s final wish, nodded.

“Okay, Mama. I’ll be right back,” she promised, pressing a gentle kiss to her mother’s forehead before hurrying out of the room. A gnawing sense of premonition tugged at her heart, but she pushed it aside. Isabelle had asked, and she would fulfill her request.

The bakery was a short run away, and as she rushed through the streets, memories of afternoons spent with her mother flooded her mind—laughing, sharing pastries, and weaving stories. It felt like a different world now, one where illness hadn’t cast its dark shadow over them.

She reached the bakery, barely registering the friendly smile from the shopkeeper as she grabbed the tart. Her hands trembled slightly as she paid, eager to return. The warmth of the tart through the paper bag was a stark contrast to the cold dread pooling in her stomach.

Caterina raced back to the hospital, her heart pounding with an urgency she couldn’t explain.

"Why am I feeling scared" she thought as she folded her fists, hitting the left side of her chest softly.

As she rounded the corner to her mother’s floor.

"No..no please God don't let it be what am thinking" thinking as she voiced out her thoughts and her body trembling a bit hurrying to her mum's room.

The door to her mother’s room was ajar, and the scene inside unfolded like a waking nightmare. The doctor and the nurses surrounded Isabelle’s bed, their frantic efforts to revive her marked by the relentless beep of the heart monitor—the single, monotonous tone that signaled the end.

She froze at the scene, the bag containing the apple tart slipped from her grasp, tumbling down to the ground forgotten.

“No!” Caterina’s scream shattered the air as she lunged toward the bed, her voice choked with despair. “Mama, wake up! Please, Mama, wake up!”

But the flat line on the monitor didn’t waver. The room, once filled with the desperate energy of life-saving measures, grew still. The doctor exchanged solemn glances, their silence louder than any words.

“Mama, no…” Caterina’s voice broke into a hysterical cry as her knees buckled. She collapsed beside the bed, clutching her mother’s lifeless hand. It was cold, so cold, as if all warmth had been drained from the world the moment Isabelle’s heart had stopped.

The pain was unbearable, raw and relentless, tearing through her chest like a jagged knife. “Please, don’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face.

In her despair, she didn’t notice the door opening or the hurried footsteps until strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back from the edge of the abyss. Rosa, her best friend, held her tightly, her own face streaked with tears.

“Caterina, stop,” Rosa urged, her voice shaky but resolute. “She’s gone… she’s gone.”

“No! She can’t be!” Caterina fought against Rosa’s embrace, her hysteria rising as she tried to break free, to reach her mother. But Rosa’s grip was firm, a lifeline in the storm of her grief.

Renata, Rosa’s mother, stood in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth, her expression stricken with sorrow. Isabelle had been her closest friend, and seeing Caterina like this wrenched at her heart. She stepped forward, kneeling beside Caterina, who had crumpled to the floor in Rosa’s arms.

“Caterina, darling…” Renata whispered, her voice heavy with grief. She reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Caterina’s tear-streaked face, cleaning her tears with her hands. “She’s at peace now.”

Caterina’s sobs gradually slowed, her body trembling as the weight of Renata’s words settled over her. Isabelle was truly gone. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, leaving her gasping for air.

Renata’s heart ached as she remembered Isabelle’s final request: “Take care of Caterina for me.” Isabelle had known her time was near and had prepared for it in her own way, entrusting Renata with her most precious treasure—her daughter.

Gently, Renata pulled Caterina into her arms, holding her tightly as the younger woman cried, her tears soaking into Renata’s blouse. Rosa knelt beside them, her hand resting on Caterina’s back, offering silent support.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they remained huddled on the cold hospital floor. Eventually, the room cleared, and the sounds of the hospital faded into the background, leaving only the quiet sobbing of a daughter who had just lost her mother.

The Burial

A gray sky hung over the cemetery like a heavy shroud, the air thick with the scent of rain that never seemed to fall. Caterina stood at the graveside, her black dress fluttering slightly in the chilly breeze, her face was pale and expressionless. Around her, mourners whispered their condolences, their voices mixed together into a low, indistinct murmur.

The coffin, adorned with flowers, was being lowered into the ground, each inch sending a fresh wave of anguish through Caterina’s heart. She stared at it, her vision blurring with unshed tears. The scene felt surreal, as if she were watching someone else’s life unfold, detached and distant.

But it was her mother being buried, her world collapsing. The priest’s words about peace and eternal rest seemed like cruel mockery. How could there be peace in this? How could there be anything but an endless, aching void?

When the final clod of earth was thrown onto the grave, a cold numbness settled over her. People came to offer kind words and embraces, but she felt nothing. She was hollow, a shell of the person she had been just days ago.

Rosa and Renata stayed close to me, Rosa squeezing my hand, her eyes filled with concern. “Caterina, let’s go home.”

Home.

"Do I even have one?" her thoughts voiced out

The word "Home" felt so foreign to me, almost kind of meaningless. There was no home without her mother. Caterina shook her head, pulling her hand free. “I… I need to be alone.”

“Caterina, you shouldn’t be alone right now,” Rosa’s voice trembled with worry.

Tired of enduring empty words and pitying glances, Caterina could no longer bear it. “Please, Rosa. Just… give me some space.”

Rosa hesitated, glancing at her mother, who gave a reluctant nod. With a heavy heart, Rosa stepped back, giving Caterina the space she craved, despite every instinct urging her to stay.

"Just know we are here for you" Rosa said to her with a look of concern

"We are your family" Rosa continued, not getting any answer from Catherina.

Caterina turned and walked away from the gravesite, her steps driven by an unfamiliar force. The house she returned to was as it had always been, but now it felt emptier than she could have imagined. She knew the reason why and didn’t want to grieve anymore. Seeking escape from the crushing reality, she decided to dress up and head to the bar, the last place she should be.

She needed something to numb the pain, something to momentarily escape the harsh truth. She hoped that a night of drinking might help me momentarily forget the pain and give me the strength to regain control of my life, despite knowing it was a fleeting and potentially poor decision but she didn’t care.

Caterina stared into the bottom of her glass, the amber liquid swirling lazily as she turned her wrist. The dim lighting of the bar cast long, wavering shadows across her face, masking the vulnerability in her eyes. Tonight wasn’t about merely drowning her sorrows; it was about obliterating them.

The bass of the music thumped through her chest, matching the erratic rhythm of her heart. She could feel the eyes on her—men and women alike, drawn to her presence. She was stunning in a way that commanded attention, yet her beauty was laced with an edge, a sharpness that warned: approach with caution.

Caterina wasn’t one to indulge in reckless behavior. She was always the one in control, the one with her life meticulously planned. But tonight, she had thrown her rule book out the window, shattering it into a thousand pieces on the concrete below.

Her gaze flicked to the man at the end of the bar. He was the type she usually avoided—a little too handsome, a little too con