Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
She could already picture it: opening a new cafe in the capital, maybe even a little flower shop alongside it, something that would give Martha purpose and joy to move with them to another city.
The thought gave her strength, though her insides were still tangled.
Oliver brightened slightly and went back to eating, shoving a too-big bite of waffle into his mouth. Blueberry jam smeared across his cheek, and Helen laughed softly, reaching for a napkin.
“You, sir, are a mess,” she teased, wiping his face.
“I’m practicing for when Daddy eats with us. You said boys are always messy, right?” Oliver giggled.
Helen feels her blood running cold. Again. Her son tosses Vincent right back into her carefully Vincent-free morning.
Her mind instantly betrayed her with an image: Vincent at the breakfast table, Oliver grinning at him, her… sitting across from him, trying very hard not to stare at the way he licked syrup off his thumb.
‘Damn it! Elle… Stop.. Please!’
Heat rushed back to her cheeks, and she fanned herself with the napkin to try to calm her wild imagination.
“Oliver, sweetie,” she said quickly, “let’s not discuss Daddy at breakfast, please? Mommy’s blood pressure can only take so much.”
Oliver tilted his head, confused but amused. “Blood pressure?”
Helen gasped, unable to believe she had just said that in front of her son. Her frustration with Vincent for being absent all week had clouded her judgment, and now she was busy trying to find the right words to fix her mistake.
But before she could find something, Oliver smiled as he said, “You mean you miss Daddy so much?”
“Exactly.” She stuffed another bite of toast into her mouth before she could dig herself deeper. It’s fine; as long as Vincent isn’t here, she will admit it; she misses him.
As she watched her son eat happily, her worries soothed for now. However, a concern slowly emerged in her mind when she remembered that her son was a double agent. He is their former cupid.
‘You are doomed, Elle… You are doomed!’
She now tries to pray silently, hoping Oliver won’t reveal her later when Vincent returns, or that man will tease her again and send her blood pressure to a dangerous level.
…
After briefing the two new baristas who would eventually take over her duties in the cafe, Helen left. She visited Martha’s house just behind it.
The sight that greeted her made her smile despite the weight pressing on her chest; Oliver was standing on a stool beside Martha, earnestly helping to arrange vegetables on a platter. His tiny hands barged, but his grin was so broad, as if he believed he was a master chef.
Helen couldn’t hold back an amusing laugh.
She stepped inside, leaning on the doorway for a moment before joining them. “Oliver, sweetheart, why don’t you play for a bit? Let Mommy help Granny.”
Her son looked up, clearly torn between duty and fun, but then he hopped down obediently.
“Okay, Mommy.” His little footsteps pattered away, leaving her with Martha.
Helen exhaled, her heart tightened. This was it, the moment she had been avoiding all week. If she didn’t talk to Martha now, she never would.
“Why do you look so distressed, Elle?” Martha’s gentle voice pulled her from her troubling thoughts.
Helen paused, carefully setting the last dish on the dining table before turning back to her.
“Aunty, will you sit down with me for a minute, please?”
Martha followed with a nod, her hands folding neatly in her lap.
Helen sat across from her, swallowing hard before speaking the words that had been choking her for days.
“Aunty… I plan to move out of this town.”
Silence stretched for a heartbeat, then Martha nodded, her expression calm.
“I know.”
“Y-You know? Since when?” Helen’s eyes widened.
“Oliver told me.” Martha’s lips curved in the faintest smile, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “And, of course, I knew the moment you officially married him. I pictured this day coming, you moving back to the capital with your husband. It was only a matter of time.”
Her calm acceptance struck Helen harder. Beneath that composure, she saw the pain; saw the fear of being left behind.
Helen reached for her hand, squeezing tightly.
“Aunty… come with me, please? Come with me to live in the capital. Please.”
Martha blinked, startled.
Helen’s voice shook as she added, “I don’t want you to live here alone. Aunty, you and I, we are more than family. We are best friends and family. And as best friends and family, we must stick together!”
Martha remained silent for a long moment, her thumb gently rubbing the back of Helen’s hand. She didn’t know how to respond to her right away.
Her heart swelled at Helen’s invitation; being seen as true family touched her deeply, but her decision was already made.
Finally, she gave a serene smile, the kind that carried both peace and sorrow, and patted her hand gently.
“Sorry, Helen,” Martha said softly, her voice warm yet slightly shaking. “I can’t move. I have to stay here.”
Helen’s chest tightened, but she wasn’t ready to give up on trying to convince her.
“Aunty, please. I’m worried about you staying here alone.” Her tone wavered, betraying her concern. “And Oliver… he’ll be devastated if you don’t come with us. He told me he’s afraid you’ll be lonely.”
At that, Martha’s eyes widened, a sharp breath slipping out.
Martha hadn’t realized the little boy carried such a heavy worry in his tender heart. The thought of Oliver lying awake at night thinking of her made her chest ache.
Her lips trembled into a smile, touched and moved, but in the end, she still shook her head. “Little Oliver, such a sweet little guy… he is always thinking of others. Just like his mother.”
Helen leaned forward and smiled back at Aunty Martha before saying, “Then come with us. If not for me, then for him. He needs you. I need you.”
Martha’s eyes softened, filled with warmth. But behind that, her choice was clear.
“Oh dear, Elle, you’ve already given me more than I could have hoped for. You treat me like family, and Oliver… he’s the bright spot in my days. But this town… this place… is my home. If I left, I’d feel lost.”
Her words were enough to silence Helen, torn between respecting her wishes and her own fear of leaving her behind.
Still, she pressed carefully, her voice soft but earnest. “Then tell me, Aunty… why? Why can’t you come with us?” She could feel there was a reason why she couldn’t move from her house.
Martha’s eyes filled with tears, her voice dropping to a whisper, almost breaking.
“Because if I leave, he… He will never find me. This is the only place he knows…”
Helen was stunned by Martha’s words. She had expected hesitation, maybe excuses about the cafe or the garden, but not this. Her chest tightened with confusion.
Martha’s husband had been gone for years. She had no family left, at least none Helen had ever seen.
She had lived in this town for four years, close enough to know that no one ever came to visit Martha. Not a cousin, not an old friend, not even someone distant.
So who could possibly hold her here?
“Aunty,” Helen began carefully, her voice soft but edged with worry. “I’m sorry… but could you tell me who you mean?”
Martha’s lips trembled. She lowered her gaze, and for a long second, Helen thought she might refuse. But finally, in a voice almost fragile, she whispered, “Do you remember when I told you about my son?”
Helen blinked, taken aback. The memory surfaced immediately. She nodded. “Yes. Of course I remember, Aunty. Your missing son…”
How could she forget?
The very first time she met Martha in the hospital, Martha had spoken of him. A son who had disappeared right after graduating from high school. She’d filed missing-person reports, gone from station to station, but the trail had gone cold. No leads, no word. Just silence that stretched on for years. Eventually, the world assumed him dead.
But now, sitting here, Helen realized Martha had never truly let go.
Martha’s hands tightened around hers, her eyes glassy. “Well… maybe one day he’ll come back, Elle. Maybe he’ll come back to me. I know he’s not dead yet. He can’t die. Not when I can still sense his presence in this world!” Her voice was shaking.
Helen feels her heart tighten, her eyes burning with her own tears. She can only gently pat Martha’s hand, fighting to hold back her tears.
Her heart ached to realize how cruel hope can be, both a promise and a chain.
“Aunty Martha…” Helen whispered, her voice shaking despite her best effort to appear calm. “Noah will return… He must be returned to you someday…”
Martha’s tears kept flowing, “Thank you, Elle… Thank you. And promise me you and Oliver will visit me…”
“Sure, Aunty, we will. Besides, we won’t be moving anytime soon…” Before Helen could add more, a small, concerned voice echoed from behind.
“Oh, Mommy, Granny… Why are you both crying?”
They both jolted and turned their heads. Oliver stood in the doorway, his dinosaur toy in his hand, his round eyes widening in worry.
In unison, Martha and Helen straightened, swiping hastily at their cheeks.
“We’re not crying,” Helen said far too quickly. “We’re just… seasoning the air.”
“Seasoning?” Oliver frowned, suspicious. “Wi-With tears?” His cute little eyes narrowed, almost making Helen laugh, but she held it back.
Martha chuckled through her sniffles. “Yes, sweetheart. Mommy and I are just… adding some extra flavor for lunch.”
