The Mafia King of Philadelphia: From witness to his doted wife

Aria dragged Sienna into the library, then the garden, then the sunroom. They played cards. They argued over which old movies were worth watching. Aria insisted pineapple belonged on pizza. Sienna looked at her as though she’d confessed to murder.

They laughed until Aria had to hold her ribs.”Stop making me laugh,” she groaned, pressing a hand to her side.

”You started it.”

”I absolutely did not.”

”You called pineapple a fruit blessed by God.”

”It is.”

”It belongs in a fruit salad.”

”It belongs everywhere.” Sienna rolled her eyes.

”You need help.” The sound of their laughter drifted through the mansion, bouncing off walls that had grown far too familiar with gunfire and whispered orders.

For a little while... The house almost felt normal. Almost. Every now and then Sienna’s attention wandered. A car pulling into the driveway. Footsteps outside. The heavy front doors opening. Each time, her heart gave a hopeful little leap.

Each time... It wasn’t him. She never mentioned it. Not once. By evening, the dining table had been prepared.

Candles flickered softly across polished wood. Dinner sat waiting beneath silver covers, steam curling into the air. Sienna found herself staring toward the entrance hall without meaning to.

The front doors remained closed. Aria noticed. She said nothing. Later that evening, Aria’s phone rang. She answered, listened for a moment, then sighed dramatically.

”My mother.” Sienna smiled. ”I’m guessing that’s not good.”

”Apparently, I’m still recovering.”

”You are.”

”I know.” Aria stood and hugged her. ”She wants me home.”

”You should go.”

”I’ll come back tomorrow.”

”Okay, girlfriend.” Aria hesitated before climbing into the waiting car. ”Call me if you need anything.”

”I will.”

”And don’t sit around worrying.”

”I won’t.” Aria gave her a look that clearly said liar before the car disappeared beyond the gates. The mansion became painfully quiet.

Too quiet. It wasn’t truly empty. Men in black suits stood at every entrance. Others patrolled the grounds. Voices echoed occasionally through radios clipped to their shoulders.

Yet somehow... The house had never felt lonelier. Sienna sat in the living room with a book open on her lap. She read the same page six times. She couldn’t remember a single sentence.

Every engine outside made her glance toward the windows. Every opening door made her look up. Midnight came. Still nothing. Eventually she climbed into bed.

...

The next morning, she searched the house. His office. The gym. The terrace. The garden. Nothing.

Marcus happened to be walking down the hallway. ”Is he back?” Marcus looked at her.

Then slowly shook his head. ”No, Mrs. Kessler.” She nodded. ”Okay.” That afternoon she called Viktor. His phone rang.

No answer. She tried again after dinner. Nothing. The second day passed. Then the third. The fourth. The mansion settled into a strange routine. Breakfast. Silence. Waiting. Every morning Sienna found Marcus somewhere in the house. Every morning she asked the same question.

”Any news?” Every morning he answered the same way. A slow shake of his head.

”No, Mrs. Kessler.” She stopped asking after the fifth day. What was the point? If Marcus knew where Viktor was, he wasn’t telling her.

If he didn’t... That worried her even more. The sixth day crawled by. Then the seventh. The eighth. The ninth. By the tenth day...

The waiting had changed. It no longer felt like concern. It felt personal. He had disappeared before. Four days. She remembered how furious she’d been then. Now... Ten days.

Not one phone call. Not one message. Not even two words saying he was alive. The memory of that night in the guest room suddenly felt foolish. His patience. His kisses. The way he’d looked at her.

She had convinced herself something had shifted between them. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe she’d mistaken tenderness for something deeper. Maybe she had been the only one lying awake afterward, smiling like an idiot.

The thought hurt far more than she wanted to admit. So she stopped waiting. Or at least... She told herself she had.

Sunday morning arrived wrapped in quiet rain. The breakfast table had been set for one. Sienna sat alone with a cup of tea slowly cooling beside her plate of scrambled eggs. A novel lay open in front of her.

She wasn’t reading it. She simply stared at the words while absently breaking a piece of toast into tiny crumbs. The front doors opened.

She heard them. Heavy footsteps followed. Deep voices. Someone greeting the newcomer.

She didn’t bother looking up. She turned another page she hadn’t read. Whoever it was... She didn’t care. Not anymore.

The chair opposite hers scraped softly across the floor. Still she kept her eyes on the book. A familiar scent reached her first. Cedar. Leather.

The faint trace of expensive cologne she had begun to associate with stolen glances and restless nights. Her fingers froze around the edge of the page.

She refused to look. If he expected her to welcome him back after disappearing for ten days without a single word... He was about to discover that Sienna Vale could be just as stubborn as Viktor Kessler.

A bouquet of deep red roses appeared in the corner of her vision. ”Hey, baby girl.” Viktor’s voice was warm, familiar... almost careful. He pulled out the chair beside her instead of the one across the table and sat down.

For a heartbeat, Sienna wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms. Ten days. He was alive. He was home. Relief washed over her so suddenly it almost hurt. She buried it.

Her expression didn’t change. ”I got you flowers.” He laid the bouquet gently on the table.

”Red roses.” He smiled faintly. ”The ones you like.” Silence. ”And chocolates.” He slid a neatly wrapped box beside the flowers.

”Your favorite.” Still nothing. Viktor watched her profile. ”I know you’re angry.” No response.

”Something urgent came up.” Sienna calmly lifted her teacup and took another sip. ”I had to leave.”

Nothing. He sighed. ”I’m here now.” That finally made her move. Slowly, she closed her book. Carefully placed it on the table. Then stood.

”What am I?” Her voice was calm. Too calm. Viktor looked up. ”A trophy wife?” She laughed once. A hollow sound.

”The mighty Viktor Kessler doesn’t answer to anyone.” She gave him a polite smile that carried no warmth. ”So...” She inclined her head. ”Welcome home, Boss.”

She turned to walk away. His hand closed gently around her wrist. ”Sienna.” She didn’t stop.