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

Aria kept pulling things from the closet, folding them fast and stacking them into the case, then reaching for a second suitcase when the first one filled up, and then a third, a fourth, until finally a fifth sat open beside the others on the bed, each one packed tight and zipped closed.

Sienna watched the whole thing happen, eyebrows slowly climbing. ”Girl,” she said, ”that’s a bit too much.”

”I need everything, okay,” Aria said, not slowing down at all, tossing a pair of shoes into the last open space of the fifth case.

”I don’t go anywhere without them.” She paused, snapping her fingers toward the nightstand. ”And pick up my phone over there. Text Kisha and Malia, tell them to come over to your place. I need to get my hair and my nails fixed.”

Sienna smiled, small and fond, and crossed the room to pick up the phone, her thumbs already moving across the screen as she began typing out the message.

Behind her, Aria changed out of her pajamas quickly, pulling a fresh shirt over her head, stepping into a pair of jeans, moving through the motions without once glancing toward the mirror standing tall in the corner of the room.

She did not look at her own reflection. She had not looked at it in weeks now, not really. Something in her still did not want to see whatever was looking back.

Downstairs, Viktor was already waiting by the front door, his hands in his pockets, his eyes lifting the moment he heard footsteps on the stairs.

When Manuel spotted the two of them coming down, arms loaded with suitcases, he crossed the room quickly and took two of the bags off their hands in one smooth motion, one from each of them, without being asked.

”Aren’t you a gentleman,” Aria said, a small approving smile tugging at her mouth. ”There are three more upstairs.”

”Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Manuel said, already turning back toward the stairs.

Viktor’s eyes stayed on Sienna the whole time, watching her, waiting for her to look back at him. She did not. Her gaze stayed fixed somewhere past his shoulder, careful and deliberate.

”We’re ready now,” Aria said, stepping between them slightly, ”and Sienna rides with me.”

”You really are pushing your luck,” Viktor said, a warning in his tone, though it did not quite land the way it should have, because right as he said it, he caught the smallest hint of a smile forming at the corner of Sienna’s lips, quick and almost hidden, gone again before it could fully form. It was enough. Something in his chest loosened at the sight of it.

He took the front seat without further argument. Sienna and Aria settled into the back, and the car pulled away from the mansion, easing down the long driveway and out onto the road.

The ride was short, quiet in a comfortable way now, the tension of the morning slowly easing out of the air as the city rolled by outside the windows.

Back at the Kessler mansion, Kisha and Malia had already arrived, waiting in the guest room with bags of polish and brushes and small tools laid out neatly across a towel.

Aria settled into a chair there, letting them work on her hair and her nails, her shoulders slowly relaxing under their hands. Sienna, meanwhile, went to take a bath, the water hot and steady against her skin, washing away some of the weight the night had left behind. She changed into fresh clothes afterward, moving slowly, unhurried.

Viktor stayed close the whole time, never more than a foot away, trailing her from room to room like a man serving a sentence he had given himself.

Sienna gave him nothing. No words, no glances, just silence, cold and complete, though he did not stop apologizing, murmuring it low every so often, I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. She got dressed and walked out of the room without a single word to him.

By the time she was done, Aria was finished too, her hair falling in soft loose waves now, her nails freshly painted, a little color back in her cheeks.

She looked more like herself again, Sienna noticed, and something in her chest eased just slightly at the sight of it.

”We’re going out,” Sienna said.

”Okay, I’ll come with you girls,” Viktor said, already reaching for his jacket.

”No,” Aria said, cutting in smoothly. ”Manuel is fine.” She said it with a soft smile aimed directly at Manuel, who returned it easily.

Viktor’s jaw tightened, a frown pulling at his brow, but he said nothing. He only nodded, once, stiff. He had decided, somewhere in the last few hours, that he would do whatever it took, agree to whatever needed agreeing to, if it meant Sienna might forgive him someday. So he did not argue. He simply let them go.

Their first stop was the Philly Mercy Orphanage. Aria walked in with a check in her hand, the full amount taken from every account tied to the AW01 project, every cent her father, Ernest Cross, had earned from it, and handed it over without hesitation.

”Thank you so much,” the director said, staring down at the number written on the check, still not quite able to believe it.

On their way back out, Sienna and Aria paused near the courtyard, watching the children run and shout and chase each other across the grass. Their eyes filled slowly with tears, unbidden, each of them carrying her own reason for it, reasons that did not need to be spoken aloud between them.

A ball rolled to a stop near Sienna’s feet. She bent down and picked it up, and a little girl, maybe four or five years old, came running over to claim it back.

”Here you go,” Sienna said, crouching lower and holding the ball out to her, her voice soft, gentle, the kind of gentle that only comes from somewhere deep and a little broken.

”Thank you, pretty lady,” the little girl said, already turning, the ball hugged tight against her chest as she ran back toward her friends across the grass.

Sienna watched her go, a small ache pulling at her chest as she rose back to her feet. She reached for Aria’s hand without thinking about it, and the two of them walked out of the orphanage together, hand in hand, Manuel and two other guards falling into step a respectful distance behind, quiet, watchful, saying nothing.