The Mafia Leader's Wife

Chapter 1

     "When is Daddy coming home?"

     "Soon, my love," I cheerfully told my 6 year old. She slumped down in her chair and sighed. I'd told her that 3 times already.
     As I added a dash of basil to my pumpkin soup, my husband's favorite, I curiously peeked out the window. Sure enough, his black Prius came rolling into the drive.
     "What is it?" Isla, my daughter, asked. I smiled and told her that her father was back.
     "Yay!" She hopped off her chair and raced towards the door. Just as she was grabbing the doorknob,  I shouted, "Don't forget to put on your boots, dear, it's a bit muddy today."
     A minute later, the door flew open and I saw my daughter running down the driveway.
     She jumped up into the air and locked around my husband, Rylan. I grinned, yet Rylan looked taken aback. Nonetheless, he let out a hearty laugh and squeezed Isla around her waist.
   After 3 or so minutes of inaudible chatter, Isla came bounding through the door, tugging my husband's hand behind her.
     "Mama's making your favorite soup, Daddy!" She said. He gazed up at me with his olive green eyes.
     "Grandma's Pumpkin soup?" He inquired.
     "With a hint of basil," I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck. His smile warmed my heart and I swooped in for a kiss.
     When I raised my head away from his lips, I noticed he had a bruise on his forehead. It looked fresh.
     "Aw, babe, did you run into the door frame again?" I guessed.
     "What? Oh, I mean, yeah," He sucked air in through his teeth to give me a visual of what he must've felt during that moment.
     "Aw, well that's a shame. Want some ibuprofen?" I reached for the medicine cabinet, but he shook his head.
     "No, don't worry. I'll be fine. It's really just a scratch," his voice trailed off, "but anyway, I'm going to go change out of my work clothes. Be down in a few!"
    Rylan power walked up the steps and his footsteps faded into our room.
     "Mama, when is dinner going to be ready? I'm starving!" Isla groaned. I couldn't help but laugh.
     "You just had graham crackers an hour ago, you can wait 10 more minutes," I reassured her, tousling her hair. "Can you go set the table? Remember, no knives!"
     Reluctantly she slid down from her chair and walked over towards where the bowls and glasses were.
     While she was searching for silverware, I stirred the pot and dipped my finger in for a quick taste test.
"Needs more salt," I muttered to myself. I leaned over the stove and carefully...
     "Ow!" I hissed.
     "Mama!" Isla stopped fishing through the cabinet and came to my aid. "Mama, are you okay?"
     I looked down at my apron and saw that there was a splatter of pumpkin soup and a small black circle. I must've leaned into the hot burner and soup by accident while I was reaching for the salt.
     "I'm fine, baby, just a little accident," I took off my apron, "better put this one in the wash."
     Isla still looked concerned so I knelt down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
     "Don't worry, Isla, Mama was just shocked, that's all!" She nodded in understanding.
     I put the lid on the soup and turned off the burner. I could add salt after I put this in the hamper.
     After warning Isla to not go anywhere near the stove, I walked up the steps and turned to the laundry room. Rylan was shoving his work clothes at the very bottom of the hamper.
     "Come on, come on," he mumbled to himself. I raised an eyebrow and wondered what could be so important about that shirt that it has to be at the very bottom of the laundry.
     After successfully stuffing his clothes into the large basket, he turned to walk out and I hastily pretended to bump into him.
     "Oh! Hey, dear!" I smiled, hoping to fool him into thinking I'd just gotten up here.
     He seemed to be caught off guard but he regained his composure.
     "Hey, Connie, dinner almost ready?" He asked.
     "Yep! Just gonna throw this thing into the washer since I got some soup on it."
     "Oh, uhm, okay! I, uh, the hamper's pretty full. So yeah, put it in the washer," he stuttered.
     "That's what I was planning to do! You feeling okay? You sure you don't want that ibuprofen?" I brushed my hand across his injury, trying to feel how tender it was.
     "All good here! I'll go check on Isla while you're, ah, putting that in the washer," Rylan said, slowly walking down the steps.
     "You do that!" I chirped. As soon as I heard him walk into the kitchen, I ran to the laundry room to dig out his work shirt.
     3 pairs of pants, 2 sweatshirts, a Sesame Street shirt, 2 blankets, and one turtleneck later, I came across his white shirt.
     It didn't seem out of the ordinary, so why had he been stuffing it down? All of his other work clothes seemed fine, yet he seemed determined to cover this one.
     I figured I was just being paranoid. Plus, I've got soup boiling downstairs, I can't waste time on some shirt.
     As I was placing the clothes back into the hamper, something caught my eye. At first, it looked like some kind of sauce. A little closer, it looked like lipstick.
     But it wasn't until I laid the shirt down on the floor and closely examined its collar that I saw what it really was.
     My hands went clammy and my heartbeat rose a tad.
     A quick whiff of it and I knew what it was.
     Blood.