He Traded A Diamond For Cheap Glass
I was the "Ice Queen," the perfect Mafia wife who managed the De Luca empire's millions while my husband, Alessandro, played the part of the feared Underboss.
I thought my silence and competence earned me respect.
That was until I woke up in the estate's medical bay with a shattered leg.
My saddle had snapped mid-jump. It wasn't wear and tear; it was sabotage.
Lying in the dark, feigning sleep, I heard Alessandro whispering outside my door with his enforcer.
"The buckle was filed down," the enforcer said urgently. "Aria tampered with it. She could have broken her neck."
I waited for Alessandro’s rage. I waited for him to execute the mistress who tried to kill his wife.
Instead, his voice was cold and dismissive.
"Bury it," Alessandro ordered. "It’s just a broken leg. Aria was upset about the credit cards. She just wanted to teach Katarina a lesson."
A lesson.
My husband wasn't just cheating on me; he was protecting the woman who tried to cripple me.
Three days later, at the Family Charity Gala, he humiliated me publicly. He outbid me for my grandmother's heirloom necklace and clasped it around Aria's neck while I watched from my wheelchair.
He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a piece of furniture to be rearranged.
He didn't know I had bugged the entire villa while I was recovering.
He didn't know I had the recordings of what Aria was really doing when he wasn't looking.
I gripped the USB drive in my pocket and signaled the tech team to lock the doors.
The statue was broken, but he was about to learn that shattered ice is sharp enough to slit a throat.
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Chapter 8
The night air was sharp, biting at my exposed skin, but Julian’s suit jacket draped over my shoulders felt like a furnace against the chill.
We had just reached the bottom of the manor steps when I heard the frantic slap of running footsteps behind us.
"Katarina!"
Alessandro.
He sounded breathless. Desperate.
Julian stopped. He turned slowly, deliberately putting his broad body between me and my husband.
"Back off," Julian said, his voice low and dangerous.
Alessandro skidded to a halt on the gravel. He looked wrecked. His tie was crooked, his usually perfect hair wild.
"She’s my wife," Alessandro panted, his chest heaving. "We need to fix this. People are talking."
"Let them talk," Julian said.
"I didn't know Aria would do that," Alessandro pleaded, trying to look past Julian to find me. "I can fix it, Katarina. I swear."
I stepped out from the safety of Julian's shadow.
"You filmed it," I said. My voice was steady. Dead.
Alessandro flinched as if struck.
"It was a moment of weakness! We have history, Kat. I protected you for years!"
"Protected me?" I laughed. It was a dry, hacking sound. "You threw me to the wolves so you could feel like a man."
"I love you!" he shouted.
The words hung in the air, grotesque and heavy.
I reached into my clutch and pulled out the small digital recorder I had taken from the study.
I pressed play.
Alessandro’s voice, tinny and distorted, drifted into the night.
*"It's just a broken leg. She's had worse. Don't make it a tragedy."*
Mark’s voice answered. *"The buckle was filed down."*
Alessandro again. *"Aria just wanted to teach her a lesson. Bury it."*
I pressed stop.
Alessandro turned the color of ash.
"You knew," I whispered. "You knew she broke my leg. You called it a lesson."
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He looked down at his hands, as if realizing they were covered in my blood.
Julian stepped forward and shoved Alessandro hard in the chest. Alessandro stumbled back, nearly falling.
"Don't insult her," Julian growled. "Don't speak to her."
"She is De Luca," Alessandro whispered, his voice cracking.
"No," I said.
I took the recorder and dropped it on the pavement. With a sharp crunch, I crushed it under my heel.
"I am tired of being your statue."
I turned to Julian.
"Take me away from here."
Julian nodded. He opened the car door for me.
As we drove away, I looked in the rearview mirror.
Alessandro was standing alone on the steps, a small, dark figure against the massive, empty house.
He looked like a man who had just realized he was holding nothing but a handful of dust.
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