The Mafia's Contract

Chapter 11

JOAN'S POV

I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I couldn't sleep. My mind was filled with so many thoughts.

I was worried about my mother. She was still unconscious. I called the doctor and the nurses earlier. They all assured me that she was fine. Even with that, I couldn't help but worry. I hoped she would be okay.

Everyday, the fear of receiving a tragic phone call haunted me. I feared that the call that would shatter my world completely. I prayed that the call would never come. I felt like a ticking time bomb.

I closed my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep. But every time I did, memories of my mother's smiling face would show up in my head. Tears pricked at my eyes. I missed her so much. I wished I could be by her side.

A knock on my door broke through my thoughts. I hesitated. Who could it be at this hour? My mind raced with possibilities. The knock sounded again. I slipped out of bed and walked to the door.

"Joan, it's Emily," a familiar voice whispered from the other side.

I opened the door to find Emily standing there. She was dressed in pyjamas. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail.

"Emily, what is it?" I asked.

"Grab a jacket and follow me," she instructed "It's cold"

I hesitated, glancing back at my bed. But something in Emily's tone made me trust her. She was always nice to me. I grabbed a jacket from my closet and slipped it on. And then, I followed her into the dark hallway. We walked down in silence. We turned a corner, and I saw Sarah leaning against a wall.

"Hi, Sarah," I said softly.

She didn't respond. Instead, she placed a finger to her lips and shushed us.

"Buzz kill" Emily muttered.

Sarah gave her a death glare. I couldn't help hut chuckle a bit.

Emily led the way down the staircase. The house felt a lot scary now that it was dark. It was so huge and it seemed empty. We passed by countless closed door. There was a dark stairway in a corner.

I paused, staring at the stairway. Curiosity got the best of me.

"Where does that lead?" I asked.

Emily grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the dark stairway.

"Don't," she warned "It's forbidden. Never wander there, Joan."

"But why?" I questioned. I got even more curious.

"Just listen, Joan!" Sarah snapped at me "Youre gonna get us caught. Stop asking so many questions and follow us."

I didn't say a word as we continued moving. We stopped by the library and entered. The library was dark, just like everywhere else in the house. The tall shelves were lined with books.

We settled into a cozy corner of the library. We took our seats on comfortable couches.

Emily took a deep breath "Every now and then, we meet here. It's our tradition to share stories, especially the scary, haunted mansion kind. Tonight, we want you to join us."

I blinked. I felt flattered and taken aback at the same time.

"Me? But I don't have a*********s to tell."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Everyone has a story, Joan. It's part of the tradition.."

I looked at Emily. She smiled encouragingly at me. The room fell silent as they waited for me to begin. I took a deep breath, searching my mind for a story. I remembered a story my mom told me when I was younger.

“There was once an old mansion far away from a hidden, forgotten town,” I began “It was said to be haunted by the spirit of a young woman. The woman was a bride who had died on her wedding night.”

Sarah and Emily gasped.

"No way" they chorused.

"The bride was betrayed by her groom on her wedding day. He didn't show up. In years, she went looking for him. She finally found him outside his house. He said he had cold feet. That wasn't all. He was also in love with her sister. In fact, he and her sister had s*x the night before. The bride couldn't believe it. She felt betrayed. She cried as she hit his chest. She begged him. She cried to him, pleading with him but he refused. She hit him repeatedly again. In order to defend himself, he pushed her off him a bit. She stumbled back on her heels and fell towards the road. Just then, a huge truck passed with speed. It hit her instantly. She died..... In her wedding dress. The dress was filled with blood. It is said that her spirit was filled with sadness and rage. In her blood stained wedding dress, she roams the town, especially the church. She cries loudly as she searcjes for her lost love.

The room was silent by the time I was done. Emily and Sarah listened intently. Even Sarah looked impressed.

"After years of wandering" I continued "The sad bride confronts her groom. And with a loud scream, she dragged him into the darkness. And so, he was never seen again.”

Emily and Sarah let out breaths they had been holding.

“That was incredible, Joan,” Emily said excitedly . “I had no idea you had such a gift for storytelling.”

Sarah nodded“Yeah, that was really good. I’m impressed.”

I smiled "Thanks"

Emily and Sarah took turns in telling their own stories. We shuddered in fear as the stories reached their c****x. The night was filled with hushed whispers, intense conversations and laughter. I hadn't felt this free in a long time.

For the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged. I was happy and content.

*

The next day, I was scrubbing the stubborn grease off the stove in the kitchen. Emily and Sarah were busy with other chores.

Miss Sullivan appeared at the kitchen doorway. She wiped her hands on her apron.

“Joan, when you’re finished here, could you please clean Miss Irene’s room? She requested specifically for you,” Miss Sullivan said.

I paused to look at her. Lady Irene Stonewood requested that I cleaned her room? She didn't even know me. I hadn't met her before. I had only heard of her on social media.

I had seen the blogs portray her to be proud and snobbish. I wasn't surprised. She was a billionaire. What else was expected of her? What would she think of me? The thought made me feel anxious.

“I… of course, Miss Sullivan,” I stammered “I’ll head up there as soon as I’m done here.”

Miss Sullivan nodded approvingly and left the kitchen. I forced myself to focus on my task, but my mind kept drifting back to Lady Irene.

When I finally finished, I took a deep breath and headed upstairs. I approached Irene’s room. I knocked softly, hoping she might not be there.

“Come in,” a voice called from inside.

I opened the door slowly, stepping into the large room. Sunlight filtered in through the large windows. The walls were adorned with delicate artwork. And there, sitting on her bed, was Irene.

I froze as I looked at her. I recognized her instantly. It was the familiar smiling face that stared at me that day in the armor room.