He Chose the Wrong Daughter

Elena POV

A heavy sense of dread settled in the base of my throat for the rest of the evening. I tried to push it away as Julian carefully cut the rest of Sofia's cake, a perfect, curated smile on his face as he handed out slices to his capos.

Later that night, after settling Sofia in her bed in our penthouse, I walked out to the living room to confront Julian about his behavior.

Julian was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a stark silhouette against the glittering tapestry of the city. A burner phone was pressed to his ear.

His posture was rigid, and his voice was a low, lethal murmur. He was in full Boss mode. Without turning, he stepped out onto the balcony and slid the glass door shut behind him.

I waited in the shadows, the beat of my own blood loud in my ears.

When he came back inside, he tossed the black burner phone onto the leather sofa. He unbuttoned his shirt and walked down the hall to the master bathroom. A moment later, I heard the shower turn on.

I broke my own rule of silence.

I picked up the phone and punched in the passcode I had secretly observed him use months ago.

The screen unlocked. I opened the secure messaging app.

There was a long thread of messages with a contact named Selina.

She asked when he was going to finalize the divorce. She talked about a girl named Gia and her medical condition.

I scrolled up, and my hands began to shake.

The texts were explicit. They were vulgar. Julian was comparing Selina to me in bed. He told her I was boring. He told her I smelled stale compared to her cloying scent.

Tears spilled over my eyelashes and hit the glowing screen. The illusion of my perfect mafia marriage splintered into a million sharp fragments in my hands.

I opened an image file.

It was a photo of Julian, Selina, and a little girl at a theme park. They looked like a happy family. The little girl, Gia, was a spitting image of Julian.

I zoomed in on the woman. It was the same woman from the hotel room five years ago.

Julian's joke at the party was not a joke. It was the unvarnished truth. He had been maintaining a second family in the shadows this entire time.

The water shut off in the bathroom.

A spike of panic shot through me. I dropped the phone back onto the leather cushion exactly where he had left it. I wiped my face and stepped into the kitchen, my hands moving mechanically to pour a glass of water.

Julian walked out with a towel around his waist. He lied effortlessly. He told me he had a late-night syndicate meeting, his eyes dark and earnest as he told me he had no eyes for anyone but me.

He put on a fresh suit, kissed my forehead, and announced he would be staying at a secure hotel downtown.

He hummed a dark tune as he picked up his keys and walked out the door.

Raw instinct took over. I grabbed my own keys and ran down to the garage. I got into my car and tailed his armored SUV into the city.

Julian drove aggressively, but he did not notice me slipping through the shadows behind him.

He pulled up to a heavily fortified villa tucked away in the suburbs. It was a property I had never seen, an asset kept entirely off the books and far from the life he had promised to construct for me and Sofia.

The iron gates opened.

A woman rushed out the front door. Selina threw herself into the Don's arms. She pouted and complained about his late arrival, her voice a petulant drawl.

Julian buried his face in her neck. I rolled my window down just enough to hear his voice carry through the quiet night air.

He praised her scent. He told her I was suffocating him.

Selina stood on her tiptoes and pulled the Boss into a heated, desperate kiss.

Bile rose in my throat. I lifted my phone and recorded the illicit encounter from the darkness of my car, my hands trembling with a cold rage.

I drove away before they went inside. I dialed the number of the most ruthless divorce attorney in New York. I demanded papers be drawn up immediately. I wanted to strip him of every legitimate asset he owned.

I returned home and walked into Sofia's room. I watched her chest rise and fall as she slept. I debated whether to maintain the silence of our marriage for her sake.

I chose myself. I chose my daughter. I vowed to be her ultimate shield.

The divorce papers were already being drafted. But before I could serve them, the other woman's daughter would collapse in a school hallway—and the chain of events that followed would take my own child to the brink of death.