Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 200 -

Весса.

Everything was spiraling out of control. I thought the trial would be the end of many worries, but I was wrong. Apparently, it just signified the beginning. Tears began streaming down my face as I stared Layla down.

She had buried her face into her hands and was sobbing, but I couldn't look at her anymore. I couldn't deal with being here at the cafe at all. I stood up from my chair and whirled, shoving it into the table and storming out of the place. Layla had been someone I could rely on.

She listened to me when I complained about how stubborn James was being,

my woes during the trial regarding the Cartwrights. I thought she cared dearly about the children, but clearly, I'd thought wrong.

Tears poured down my cheeks as I hurried down the street, now shifting to a run. Dusk was causing the sky to darken, and I foolishly didn't take a car here. The streets were lit up, so I wasn't too concerned about getting jumped, but still, I walked briskly.

By the time I took a few turns and rounded the corner to get home, I was full-on sobbing. I wanted to throw myself onto my bed and cry for the rest of the night. At the moment, I felt like I had no one. Not James, not Layla. I thought of how I saw Layla constantly playing with Alessandro and Dahlia. She had a beautiful, brilliant smile that always lit up the room. She knew just what to do when either child started crying. She knew their favorite toys and favorite activities.

She had always been there encouraging their growth, speaking and giggling with them when they did, too. When James and I were in need or in a tough spot, she was there. When we needed to leave at the last minute, she usually could cover, no problems.

I wouldn't replace another nanny like Layla, but it was something we'd have to do. She wasn't to be trusted after that. Working with the people who'd done terrible things like that, all because she thought I stole money? Why didn't she talk to me? After Sarah, I thought my trouble with nannies was over, but apparently, I had been wrong. Maybe I should let someone else pick the next nanny.

James had lost his mind on Layla, and now I understood why. I was still so mad at him for not budging on the Italy thing. I should have brought up my idea about Guatemala when moving was mentioned again, but I still wanted to do some more research before presenting the idea.

Eventually, I arrived at the end of our street and got closer to the house. However, I began to notice something off right away. There was a gathering of people at my doorstep, something that caused my heart to pound. This was just what I needed.

The first person that became clear to me as I drew closer was a woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun with blue eyes that gleamed like a hawk looking at a rabbit. Terese fastened her stare on me, a scowl plastered across her face. Other people there included Marilyn, who may as well have been a carbon copy of Terese even if they weren't related. There was no variety in their stance, what they wore, the style of their hair. They were carbon copies, inhuman, like cardboard, and had no love for me.

Stepford Wives. Vultures who fed on the misery of others, no doubt, but what were they doing at my home? I recalled what was said during the trial, feeling my fists clench at the thought of them trying to get my son taken away from me. They knew Alessandro had been repeating the word 'fuck' and tried having it used against me. My child's life could have been doomed forever because of them, and they knew it, too. I was seeing red by the time I got close enough to say something.

"I see the farmer let the pigs out of their pen. Why did they all come running here?" I asked softly, staring Terese down.

She flipped her hair and scoffed, eyeing me up and down. Her fake breasts jiggled as she did so, which was about as unappealing as her plastic face.

No doubt, my makeup had run a little, which was evident on my face. One thing after another today. I didn't need this.

"Ah, Becca, just the b*tch we were looking for," Terese said. "The trash has yet to be taken out. You're still here. So are your bastard son and daughter."

Marilyn nodded, her expression just about as ugly as Terese's. My interaction with these harpies came flooding back, and I let out an annoyed sigh.

My lip twitched in irritation, and I snapped, "Get off of my lawn and away from my house. I don't care what a bunch of bitch ass Barbies have to say about my children, or whether I'm welcome here."

"Tch, 'prostituta,' we're overjoyed you got your kid back. Ecstatic, so happy for you," Terese said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But there's no place for a dirty whore like you here. Get the f*ck out."

"You can't tell me what to do," I snarled, slamming my foot onto the ground. I considered slapping her again but wasn't sure if I'd get away with it. Her disgusting friends may help her in lashing back out. I could get the police called on me, which was the last thing I needed right now.

"Oh, but we can," Terese said through her teeth, giving a fake, disgusting smile. "Our little tip to Cecelia didn't help chase you off. You won your bastard godson anyway, but we'll continue to make your life a living hell until you're out of here." More tears began streaming down my face as I found it hard to speak through my anger. My throat closed somewhat, but I needed to hold it together. After taking several deep breaths, I muttered, "You bimbo bitches almost cost me my son." Marilyn snapped, "Oh, if only that were the case, you'd be gone faster. Trash like you shouldn't dirty up our neighborhood." A choir of Karens sounded off right then in agreement with the Stepford wife, causing me to consider flat-out uppercutting their ringleader.

Maybe that would show them.

I resisted the urge to do so, glancing around to meet eyes with Antoinette. She was standing there with the rest of them, her eyes glimmering with guilt. Unlike last time, she wasn't speaking up to help. Rather, she said, "Becca, it may be better to do what they say. There is more to this than you know. They have a bit more influence than you assumed."

"That's right, Antoinette is ours, you bitch," Terese snapped, giving a wide grin. "She knows her place in this pecking order. Otherwise, things could happen with her raids. Maybe they'll replace something this time. Who knows?" Antoinette winced at that, shaking her head. That sly, confident smile had been wiped from her face. I'd lost my one friend in this area. Layla was gone, James was being a stubborn prick, and now, Antoinette needed to join the side of these terrible people or risk something.

I had no idea what was going on, or why Antoinette needed to side with them. I just knew that one thing after another kept on being added, and I couldn't take this anymore. Still, I took a deep breath and composed myself, trying so hard to maintain focus.

For a moment, I tried distracting myself with just how plastic Terese looked.

I considered bringing that up. Her lips were pursed as she waited for me to say something. Once again, I was struck with the curiosity of whether or not her Botox would just fall out from how her lips were right now. "Aw," Marilyn said in a taunting manner. "Gonna cry harder, whore? Terese is right, you're not wanted here. Go the f*ck away while you still have a chance, or your life will be even more miserable. Understand?"

Terese grinned, walking up and leaning into my face. "Hit me like you did last time. I dare you." I saw one of her plastic-clone goons whip out a phone to start recording. As much as I wanted to give in right now, I couldn't. Rather, I shoved past her to my front door, took out my keys, and opened it. Without turning, I said, "Get away from my house." Then, I turned and slammed my door so hard that it shook. Finally, I turned and leaned against it, my back dragging against it as I sat there.

I buried my face in my hands and just began to sob, my entire body shaking. The entire world was against me. I was completely alone right now. With James wanting to return to work at the businesses he'd been managing in Florence, and me wanting to explore new options about what to do with my professional life, I'd need help with the kids.

I'd have no help now. Layla was gone, I wasn't welcome in this neighborhood, and I'd lost yet another friend. I didn't know what they did to threaten Antoinette, but I needed her right now, and she couldn't speak up without risking herself. This place was hell.

As I continued to curl up and sob, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I tried shrugging it off, but it was held there firmly. "What do you want, James?" I said, my voice muffled a bit. I heard him sigh in my ear and finally peeked at him. "Becca," he whispered. "Baby, I'm here. I know you're mad at me, but if you need someone right now, I'm here. Let me comfort you?"

I managed to nod in acceptance as James swept me into his arms and brought me to the couch. The nursery was quiet, so the kids were getting some restful sleep, at least. Following James's yelling, of course. I still wasn't sure that'd been warranted.

That said, at this moment, I wanted to throw back my head and scream. I held off from doing so, and rather, buried my head in James's chest and started to sob. His hand ran down my back in a comforting manner, trying to calm me down. Five minutes later, I made a decision that I didn't want to, but knew I had to. We just couldn't stay here anymore. The Cartwrights would jump down our throats soon, and those evil Stepford wives no doubt had tons of connections I didn't know about.

That, and based on tonight, they would use those connections they had to hurt my entire family, including my kids. That much was proven at the trial. They didn't care about Alessandro having a good life. They only wanted to make us suffer for 'not belonging here.'

"James," I whispered, catching his attention. I looked into his eyes and said, "Fine. We'll go back to Italy. My father is still there. I have him. I have you."

"Okay," James said, giving me a careful smile. "We will leave tomorrow, then. I'll have Tony send over a jet. It will be so much better there, Becca."

"I don't know for how long, James. I don't want that life for my son," I said to him, the thought of the mafia and James inevitably gaining the Don position coming to mind.

What else could we do? We had nowhere to go right now and needed to leave.

For now, I had to accept that we were bound for Italy in the morning.