From Mafia Wife to Rival's Queen
After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field.
But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me.
Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.
"Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk."
It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family.
The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him—all dismissed as "just business."
Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer.
"Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him."
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Chapter 3
Elara POV
I was at my desk in the Fuco Group headquarters before sunrise, the city still a silent constellation of lights below. I hadn't slept. Dante's words-the proof of Marco's deep and calculated betrayal-had become a blade twisting in my gut all night.
The door to my office swished open. It was Marco, holding a bag from my favorite bakery.
"You're here early," he said, his voice a careful performance of concern that now made my skin crawl. He placed a croissant and a coffee on my desk. "You look pale. Are you okay?"
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the hot coffee in his handsome, lying face. Instead, I forced a tired smile. "Just a long night. Couldn't sleep."
"You work too hard," he fussed, reaching to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. I leaned away before he could touch me.
"I'm fine," I said, my voice flat. "I'm exhausted. Could you handle the morning Capo meeting for me?"
He brightened, puffing up at the chance to take the lead. "Of course, my love. Anything for you." He hesitated at the door. "By the way, I was thinking... Sienna. She could be the new face for our electric car brand. She's got the look. Young, desirable."
His words were a quiet incision, designed to bleed me out. While you're getting old.
"She's a nobody," I said, my voice like ice. "She has no class. The brand needs elegance, not cheap appeal."
His face tightened. "She's just-"
"Go to your meeting, Marco," I cut him off, turning back to my computer.
The second he was gone, I was on my feet. I called Miguel on his private line-the head of maintenance, a man whose loyalty I'd secured years ago by putting his kids through college. Ten minutes later, the executive elevator was officially "out of service," trapping Marco and his men in the boardroom for at least an hour.
Then I summoned my tech specialist, a quiet genius named Leo, to Marco's office.
"You have one hour," I said.
Leo's fingers didn't just fly; they danced, a blur of motion across the keyboard. He didn't break through Marco's firewalls-he simply walked through them as if they were never there. Files bloomed on the screen. Bank records. Offshore accounts. Asset transfers.
It had been going on for a year. A steady, silent siphoning of our shared wealth.
And there it was. The deed to a sprawling mansion in Miami. In Sienna's name.
My heart didn't just break. It calcified, turning to stone in my chest. The fifteen years we'd built, the love I thought was unbreakable... all a lie. He hadn't just made a mistake. He had been planning his exit, planning a new life with her, for months.
A single, hot tear escaped and slid down my cheek. I wiped it away with a vicious swipe of my hand. No more tears.
"Copy everything," I ordered Leo, my voice a dead calm. "Then install the surveillance software. I want to see every email, hear every call."
Leo worked in silence. With minutes to spare, he was done. We were out of the office and the power to the elevator was restored just as Marco's meeting ended.
He came back to my office, wearing that same practiced smile of concern. One of his soldiers clapped him on the back. "You two are the perfect power couple. An inspiration to us all."
Marco beamed, trying to pull me into his embrace. I sidestepped him.
My mind was clear now. This wasn't about saving my marriage. This was about seizing my empire. I wouldn't just divorce him. I would burn his world to the ground and reclaim what was mine.
And I still had my trump card-the one thing he couldn't fight, couldn't deny, and couldn't yet know about. Our baby.
We rode to his mother's birthday party in his armored Rolls-Royce, Marco playing the part of the doting husband, his hand resting on my knee. I didn't flinch. I just stared out the window as the city lights blurred into battle plans.
At the lavish venue, Marco was immediately swallowed by a crowd of admirers. Needing a moment to fortify myself before the night's performance, I went to the private dressing room reserved for the family.
When I opened the door, she was standing there.
Sienna.