Victor

People are always fighting for something, from the billionaire who has everything to the one who has hit rock bottom, not seeing a glimmer of hope for any future, consciously or not, everyone sets a goal. No matter how desperate you are, you open your eyes in the morning and your drained soul somehow decides that today will be different. At the end of the day, you may be a millimeter closer to the desire to die, to go to bed with the desire to never wake up again, but the sun rises and everything starts again.

I narrowed my eyes and my nostrils flared, taking in the scent of lemon floor cleaner, wood polish, and air freshener. Nicholas Mascot's office in his first, largest and main casino looked like an operating room. Disinfected to a shine, everything was exactly in its place, with surgical meticulousness. Nothing, from the doorknob to the portrait of Elena and Mascot on the wall, suggests that this room is in use at all, when I know that Nicholas Mascot spends twelve hours of daylight here six days a week.

Narcissism, craving for attention and absolute approval. This is what my father-in-law wants. He is one of those people who never live for himself, the ones who are so absorbed in feeding their ego, by putting on a front, that everything he does, from the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, the posture, the clothes, the attitude ,everything screams 'praise me and make me feel like the king that I am', except that even kings look like clowns when they forget the real purpose of life.

At one point, I was the same. The difference? I was chasing the approval of a man who would never give it to me, no matter how stoically I put up with everything it caused me, kind of like Stockholm syndrome. Somewhere deep inside I always knew that my father was not interested in me as a father, my genes were what made him call me his son and only in certain cases when he could not replace the word 'son' with a synonym or another word to make the interlocutor understand that it is about me.

Nicholas Mascot was hungry for the approval of the people and the media. This was even worse. Yes, he never mistreated Elena, never assaulted her, never left indelible marks on her body. But revealing his true self these past few months to his daughter left far scarier scars that no one would ever see but hurt my wife more than anything that had ever happened to her. Perhaps, in addition to being in love with me, her understanding and acceptance of me for what and who I am is partly due to the fact that she is beginning to realize that things are not always what they seem.

Elena Mascot lived believing that everything her father did for her was out of love. Elena Craven, however, no longer wears the rose-colored glasses of an innocent girl. And although her eyes still hold that ignorant warmth of dreaminess that I intend to maintain until my last breath, Elena no longer sees the world in pink and dad's advice. As her husband, the best thing I've done for her so far is to teach her that her voice is heard, that having an opinion and expressing it, even if it doesn't match that of the other person, is not a crime.

This, of course, does not mean that even now there are no limitations. Elena is like a bird in a very large golden cage. And while the cell is so large that it gives the impression of completely free flight, Elena is aware that the guards, the exits controlled by me, her appearances in front of people and media, which are limited in perimeter and necessity, are the bars of this cell. Still, while it's up to me, I try to make these grids as wide as possible and the cage world-wide.

"What's the meaning of that?!" I turned very slowly and met the gaze of my angry father-in-law, who was standing like a bull ready to attack at the threshold of his office. "I assume you mean my men?" I asked and walked behind his desk, taking his place, which only caused the angry red on his face to increase. "Who do you think you are to have the right to shut down MY casino?" I raised an eyebrow and surveyed his appearance. The trembling shoulders, the clenched teeth, the flared nostrils, the white knuckles of the hand with which he gripped the door lock.

Few people had the right to speak to me in such a tone and look me straight in the eye. Elena, of course, but for her there were no limits in her attitude towards me. On the other hand, Mascot didn't have that much right, the only reason he's still alive after all he's been doing is because it's going to make Elena sad, and the last thing I want is tears in my wife's eyes as she fights the manifestations of her pregnancy. Only through my corpse.

"We need to talk, I decided that for this we need solitude" I answered calmly. Solitude, my ass. Until now, I didn't take any action against Mascot, because I hoped that at some point, he would come to his senses. But his actions became more and more dangerous, it wasn't just Bennett. Sergio Gardoni was in the upper ranks of Cosa Nostra in Los Angeles. Until now, there were not many clashes between the Italians and us, because somehow we had an unspoken agreement for a bloodless war. Here and there a failed deal, some stolen goods in the lower floors, nothing more striking than reminding each other that we share the same terrain, but different territories.

However, Mascott's relationship with Gordani was a game changer. Firstly, because as my father-in-law, his relationship with the Italian meant treason to the organization, and this is punishable by death, and secondly, because of who I am and my position. Nicholas hardly realizes that his actions make Elena a target for our enemies. Closing his casino, emptying it of customers and forcing security and staff to huddle around the gaming tables pinned down by my men, is nothing more than a reminder that there is nothing I can't or can stop me, at least for now is just a hint that Mascot is sitting opposite a crime boss, not one of his casino enemies.

"Are you going to divorce Elena?" Mascot growled, still not moving from the door and I shook my head. "Then there's nothing to talk about" he snorted and I sighed. I could feel the slight hum of the tape recorder in my hip pocket. I don't need to confirm this conversation to anyone, I and only I decided the fate of my father-in-law, but I needed something to give Elena if it came to the point where I had to kill her father. Proof that I had no other choice. The time for hope and waiting was over.

"I don't think so" I pointed to the chair in front of his desk and for a moment Mascot looked away from me but didn't react, ignoring my gesture. "Like I said, you have no right to close my casino, and since you haven't come to tell me you're divorcing Elena, there's no reason to talk" my darkness rose from the continued snarling disrespect. Nicholas Mascot must realize that he is not talking to his daughter's husband, but to Victor Craven, a boss bent on getting him out of his way.

"Close the door and sit down!" I snapped coldly and saw Mascot flinch, causing my body to feel that satisfying sense of power that had been instilled in me since childhood. "You are Victor Craven, you rule the city, you hold the fate of many lives in the palm of your hand, you decide what is right and what is wrong, what and whom to condemn and how. Mercy, pity, understanding, are words that are not in the vocabulary of Craven, remember it!" my father's words brought not only the feeling, but also the memory of the bloody smell and the pain of the tongues of the whip.

"Or?" the faint challenge in Mascot's voice couldn't hide the uncertainty and fear. "You don't want to understand what an 'or' is in my job" I retorted sharply and Mascot narrowed his eyes, but his double-mindedness only lasted a few more seconds before he slammed the door shut and stomped off to the chair in question, clearly indicating, that he is not satisfied with being commanded. "Say what you have to say and let me work!" he snorted and dropped his ass on the chair, crossing his legs in a majestic gesture that didn't suit him at all, making him look like treacle among peacocks.

Stubborn old man! I leaned forward, put my fingers together on his desk and for a moment pierced him coldly. "Today you will call Gordani and withdraw the offer to turn your casinos into a laundromat for Cosa Nostra, then withdraw Bennett's offer and ban both parties from your casino. From this moment on, your casinos are the territory of Craven, you retain your position, but you will report to me on customer movements, profits, losses, and workers every three days, via mail or Marcus Knox" it was not a request, nor an order, and Nicholas Mascot realized it immediately after the surprise, that I know of the Cosa Nostra drained from his face, along with the redness, making way for an unhealthy pallor.

"You...you don't...you have no right to do that!" Mascot jumped to his feet and leaned on his hands over the desk. I raised my eyes and one eyebrow. "Don't I have the right?" I asked calmly and sighed. "Let me be clear. This is not about you being my father-in-law or my wife's father, although the latter is the only reason you're still alive" one of the things my father taught me was how to speak calmly and evenly, with an expressionless face, when I talk to someone who is far from my level in mastering emotions. Anger always reacts to calmness, and it is a power that no volcanic lava can burn.

"And while I don't care that you're trying to kill yourself, my wife does" I continued, pausing to read his reaction at the mention of his daughter. Normally, every parent, no matter how bad a situation they are in, reacts to the mention of their child. Not Nicholas Mascot, nothing, not a muscle, not a twinkle in his eye, showed that he cared what Elena thought. "I want to protect her from the pain of losing another parent now that she's pregnant" I tried again to elicit a reaction from my father-in-law, but all I got was a huff.

"Great!" he snorted and stood up, shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets. "So besides brainwashing her, now you've stuffed her belly?" my chest was burning from the way he commented on Elena's pregnancy. It was as if the child in her womb was a hellish bastard, unworthy to see the light of day. The poison of his words coursed through my veins and almost destroyed my cool frame.

"We're talking about your daughter and your firstborn grandson" I reminded him, leaning back to feel for the recorder in my pocket. "Daughter?" somehow, the Mascot returned to his angry head and sat back in the chair. "Elena stopped being my daughter when she turned against me because of you. Congratulations, but the bastard in her belly is not my grandson and I will never recognize him as such!" Mascot crossed his arms over his chest and stubbornly looked away, gritting his teeth.

Damn old man! If Elena heard the way her father talked about her and the baby, it would break her heart. She is over the moon with happiness, pacing back and forth with her hands on her stomach, chattering cheerfully about what she read on the net about the weeks of her pregnancy, constantly running around with her phone, showing one or the other video, advertisement or photo even to the dogs to security, dreamily explaining what she wants to do while pregnant or after giving birth. Her father calling our child a bastard? How does he deny both? He's dead, he just doesn't know it yet.

"Today, Mascot!" my hands were itching to shoot him. For God's sake, my heart, my blood, my whole black, monstrous being wanted to punish the man in front of me, just for his words to Elena, even if I didn't take into account what he thought about the baby, I would still wipe him from the face of the earth in the most cruel way I know. "I advise you to show the wisdom of your age and listen to me" I stood up and reached into my pockets, more to turn off the recorder than for a stand and walked around the desk heading for the door. "I don't want to take my pregnant wife to your funeral, Mascot" was the last thing I said before closing the office door behind me.

Elena

When you start thinking about a child and open all those sites with medical and women's advice, you read the experiences of other women and laugh, thinking that if not all of them, at least 8 out of 10 are seriously exaggerating the symptoms. I understand that it's not the same for all women, not all symptoms are the same, they come and go at different times, with different strength, it's all about the organism and many other similar stupid thoughts.

On a site for young mothers, I read a comment from a woman, a year older than me, who claimed that she was so sick that she stopped kissing her husband and brushing her teeth, because just the smell of toothpaste, pushed her lungs through her throat. Well, I'm not throwing up yet, if ever, but I think my baby is a few months ahead, despite being six weeks pregnant, because my hormones are kicking my ass every chance they get.

In the last week, it's like I'm taking drugs, sometimes I'm tired as hell, sometimes I'm bursting with energy and I don't know where to turn to tame my desire to do something. I either go into a depressive episode, or just cry, or laugh even if the finger is pointed at me, and wow, how I get mad at times, but all these moods subside just as quickly as they appear, leaving me exhausted and ready for another nap.

I hate myself. I am terrified that I will be like this throughout my pregnancy and at some wonderful moment, Victor will give up on me and distance himself in an attempt to avoid his hormonal, freaking wife and this baby will be my only memory of him. I locked my phone and tossed it aside, not even trying to close the video I was watching, I curled up into a ball, snuggling Victor's pillow on my stomach and indulged in my teary moment, cursing facebook's ability to upload such sad videos.

I began to rethink my behavior again and again, comments from the same mom site kept popping up in my mind, in which women complained that during the hormonal period of their pregnancy, their husbands moved out of the bedroom, or often came home late at night as late as possible to reduce the time they spend with their pregnant wives, and I even came across comments where the men went back to their parents' homes. The latter was impossible for Victor, but it didn't mean he couldn't send me back to my father's house.

My father!

I'm a really terrible daughter. I sat up sharply, took my phone and quickly unlocked it, dialing my father. In all my joy and commotion, I didn't even think to call him and tell him he was going to be a grandfather.

I settled cross-legged under me, tucked Victor's pillow into the nest between my knees and tried to wipe away the stream of tears that were now flowing for a completely different reason than the clip though, the little lost puppy returning to the horse farm ,it's really sad. My call went to voicemail and I sniffed desperately. I'm so terrible that even my own father won't talk to me. I tried to call him again, but when I was sent to voicemail the second time, I started crying at the top of my lungs, trying to write the news to him in a message.

I know it's stupid. I realize that the video with the puppy is just a publicity stunt and my dad can't be mad at me for something he doesn't know, but I just can't stop. I'm trying and I can't! And the more I try, the harder my lungs strain, the hoarser my cries become, tearing my chest apart in heavy choking hiccups. I buried my face in Victor's pillow, hugging it to my chest to muffle the sound at least enough that I wouldn't be heard by any security or maid who might be walking down the hall, but it only got worse.

"Whoah,my love" the pillow moved and I looked up. Viktor was looking at me anxiously, sitting in front of me, slightly bent over, and that only made me cry again. "You...you...hate me, don't you?" I whimpered and tried to get the pillow back but only managed to land on Victor's knees. "Let...me go" I muttered and tried to get off his lap, but it was impossible to fight Victor, his hands seemed to be an endless cocoon of tenderness around me.

"Impossible honey, our marriage is a lifetime deal" he chuckled and somehow snuggled me closer, letting me hide in his neck. "Am I to understand that my babies are upset?" he asked into my hair and I nodded sniffling. "And the reason is that mommy thinks I hate her because?" he continued in a sort of amusingly soft voice and I looked up. "I don't stop crying" I blurted out and Victor raised his eyebrows. "So? What's wrong with being emotional?" the cocoon loosened slightly and I pouted. "Emotional?" I cried, pointing at my phone.

"Video clip, Victor, I'm crying because of video clips!" the tears came back and I frantically tried to wipe them away. "And the video says I hate you?" he continued jokingly, but it was somewhat reassuring and I shook my head. "For a puppy, he got lost but came back to his farm and the horses ran to meet him" I explained and his eyebrows shot up. "Only that?" I nodded and he grunted. "And my father doesn't answer my phone, and I haven't told him about the baby" and back to crying, I reached for the pillow. "My father hates me, I'm a terrible daughter for forgetting to tell him he's going to be a grandfather, I don't deserve to be his daughter!" I whimpered and tried to hide myself deep in his arms.

"Elena, your father knows about the baby, today we met and I told him, I'm sure that when he's free, he'll see that you called him and he'll call you" my head snapped and I blinked. His expression was strange, but he was smiling and I sniffed again. "You told him?" Victor nodded and his huge palm cupped my face. "You are not a terrible daughter, my love, even less is there a reason for me to hate you" he tilted his head slightly, pulled the pillow from my hands and put his hand on my stomach.

"You're pregnant Elena, your body is changing, it's normal for your emotions to run wild. I understand that and I love you for not trying to hide your tears from me. Not you, I'd hate myself if that was happening ,because it would mean that I failed as a husband, that I didn't manage to get you to trust me enough to show me not only your smile, but also your tears. And those tears, my love, they are not less beautiful,because they are caused by a life that you and I have created" the warmth in his voice and gaze was unbearable, so absorbing and comforting, as if suddenly I was embraced by a cloud that knew how to return my smile. "Now, who wants lemon wedges?" Victor asked grinning and I couldn't love him more at that moment.

I can't, I try and I can't. My hand was shaking as all I could see was my father's face calling my baby 'bastard'. How, why? I'm sure that Victor didn't mean for me to hear the recording, maybe if the recorder hadn't fallen out of the laundry basket and I hadn't accidentally seen it, I would never have known exactly what my father was thinking, nor what exactly he had gotten into and what it means that to me, to us. But I found it and now I can't bear the cold that engulfed my body.

I knew that my father did not approve of my marriage, he did not approve of Victor. I know that he is stubborn, that he likes to control, but to deny me, to deny his grandson? This is too cruel to take and my knees went weak. "Elena!" I felt Victor's hands before my knees hit the hard floor, but I couldn't find the strength to answer or look at him. Pain cut my heart to pieces, shame and powerlessness. I didn't have the will to look Victor in the eye. How many times has he seen my father without me knowing? How many times has my husband heard the same and similar hateful words directed at both of us and our marriage?

"Elena, look at me!" I felt my body heavy, like an anchor falling indiscriminately to the bottom. "Come on, Elena, you're scaring me, you're too pale..." Victor cursed and snatched the recorder from my hand. "Elena, my love, look at me" I saw the device falling far to the side, then I felt the steady support of Victor's hands on my face. "I'm sorry, my love, I forgot, I'm sorry!" his eyes burned painfully as they studied my face. "He...he why..." I barely managed to raise my hand and point at the recorder. "This...my father...why does he ...Victor, he hates our baby because...because I love you?" my voice came out as a harsh gasp with a hiss.

"No, no" Victor shook his head and I tried to understand. "Your father doesn't hate you, Elena, I swear, he doesn't hate you or our baby, you hear?" emptiness filled me. I know Victor is trying to calm me down, I know he would do and say anything to make me feel better. But I know my father's voice, I heard the recording, and unless Victor tells me it's fake, then whatever he tells me, however he tries to convince me otherwise, what I hear means that I underestimated my father's selfishness and what exactly I mean to him.

I thought, I hoped that if I give him time, if I just let things calm down and take a while, when my father sees how happy I am with Victor, with our baby, he will accept that there is no turning back. He will understand that I have the right and I have made a decision for myself, that it is time for him to realize that I am a grown and married woman who no longer depends on him. I was hoping to bring back at least a little of the father in my memories. How wrong I was.

But instead of any of that happening, my father seemed to have turned the destruction of my marriage and life into a personal vendetta. I understand Bennett, I understand the idea of him finding someone to stand up to Victor with similar or greater power and strength, I get it, although I don't approve, but to go that far? Cosa Nostra? What is my father even thinking? That Victor won't react? That he'll just let him go to the enemy and move on like nothing happened? Or that if not Victor, then no one else will react?

Does my father even realize what he's getting himself into? For God's sake, I am married to a mobster and I myself do not fully understand the dangers of the world I married into, but I know that what my father is doing can put not only him, but also us in a very dangerous situation. If he really works with Cosa Nostra and manages to convince them to kill Victor, it will be a real bloody massacre! We will be in danger, not only my father and Victor, but also me and the baby.

My baby!

I can't! I really don't understand. What, why does my father hate Victor so much? Why is he refusing to accept my decision?

"Elena, please listen to me!" I shook my head, I feel like a straw doll, as if I can't move a finger. "I'll call a doctor!" I let Victor pick me up, take me back to the bedroom and put me in bed. I heard him talking on the phone, but I couldn't hear what he was saying, his voice was blurring under the weight of my thoughts. I've come to a crossroads I never thought I'd find myself at.

If what I heard on the recording is true, it means that everything remains in my hands. No matter how much Victor tries to spare me the details, I'm not stupid. My father is a traitor, maybe not yet, or already is, but as the wife of an organization boss, related to a man working with the enemy, that probably makes me a target not only for Victor's enemies, but for the entire system in which he works.

It is unlikely that my father's actions went unnoticed. I already know that Victor is not just some boss, but high in the chain, which means that there are too many people under him who act with or without orders, observe the enemy and deliver information according to which decisions are made from the top. So, in short, probably the whole organization already knows that my father is working with Bennett and the Italians.

"How much do they know?" I asked quietly as Victor's voice trailed off and I felt the bed sink next to me. "Elena, everything is fine..." I turned and looked at him. "Don't lie to me Victor, how many of your people know about...this" I pointed to the wardrobe and he took a breath, pinching the base of his nose. "Tell me the truth, Victor, because I swear, I have all kinds of scenarios in my head. How bad it is and don't lie to me!" I insisted, trying not to give in to the hormones that seemed to be screaming 'cry, fall apart' at me and making my body shake convulsively.

"There are rumors that you are working with your father as an inside agent and..." I barely caught my breath, trying to blink away the tears. "But I have everything under control, Elena, I won't let you and the baby get hurt!" Victor lay down next to me and pulled me into his embrace, whispering how he would manage, how his people had to obey him, otherwise he would kill them, how he could deal with my father, how he had already given him an ultimatum, but everything what I heard was 'You have to decide whose side you're on and choose us and the baby or your father', because if I didn't, no matter how much Victor thought he had control over the situation, there was no way he could subjugate everyone and there will always be some fanatic who would give his life for revenge.

It wasn't even a choice of us or my dad, just the baby or my dad. Because even if something happens to me or Viktor, the baby in my belly is the most important thing, even if we lose everything, that's what we both live for right now and as much as I trust my husband, as much as I believe he is strong enough to handle it, if I don't make a decision I will just tie his hands. Even now, I know that he is trying to get away from my father's actions without hurting him, so that he does not cause me pain. Maybe that's where he recorded it, he talked to my father, he told him about the baby in the hope that my father would come to his senses, but all he achieved was to give me something to think about if I had any value at all for my father or I'm just a toy that was taken away from him.

Because this is what my father does, he behaved exactly as if something had been taken from him by force and now he is trying to get it back without choosing the means by which to achieve his goal.

"What if my father doesn't accept your ultimatum?" I moaned into his elbow, staring at the opposite wall. "The truth, Victor?" I asked with a bruised firmness and felt him take a deep breath. "If I don't handle him, someone else will" he answered in my neck and I closed my eyes. "What...what will it mean for us? For me?" I felt like I was sitting in a freezer, fighting to keep my blood from freezing, my heart from stopping. "They will turn on me, rumors of betrayal are not tolerated well in an organization like ours" hearing my fears out loud was like stabbing a knife and salt in the wound.

"What choice do you have?" the question that should help me decide. Victor can't leave his place, the organization will hunt us down until they eliminate us, so there was no way I was going to ask him for this again. "Either he agrees and the casinos become our territory, or if Bennett or the Italians don't, I'll have to kill him to protect you and our baby" Victor admitted quietly and I let out a whimper.

"I'm sorry, my love, I didn't mean for you to understand like that, I didn't mean for you to understand at all. I was careless, the recording was just in case" Victor pressed me harder, one of his hands went to my stomach and I covered it with mine. I know he didn't want it, I don't want it either, but my father leaves us no choice. I can't choose him over my baby, I can't change the fact who I love just because I want to, I'm not like my father, I don't have a button to turn off my feelings.

"It's okay Victor" I breathed and felt wetness on my temple. "Elena..." I shook my head on his hand and kissed his forearm. "Just don't let our baby get hurt, okay?" Victor grunted and buried his face deeper into my neck, and I let some of my pain out, finally allowing myself to accept my decision and the pain that followed.