His Unwanted Wife, The Unbeatable Lawyer
For three years, I was the perfect Mafia wife. I ensured my husband Jared's suits were impeccable and his public image flawless. I even sat at tables with Russian killers and calmly translated the order to execute a man who betrayed our Family. My value was my composure and my loyalty.
The moment an internal memo praised Jared for his 'heroism' during the Mayland Warehouse Massacre, I knew our marriage was over. Because I was the one he'd left to die.
The memo was a masterpiece of fiction, claiming he made a split-second decision to protect the Family's "most valuable asset." That asset wasn't me, his wife, who was calmly negotiating with cartel members for our lives. It was Bianca, his fragile mistress, who was crying on the phone in a sector he was ordered to stay out of.
When I packed my bags and left, he had the audacity to call me hysterical. "You're my wife," he scoffed.
"Was I your wife at Mayland, Jared?" I asked. "Did you think of your wife for even a second while you were running to save your weak little woman?"
He was a coward who had ignored a direct order from a Don, and the Family was calling him a hero for it. But I had the proof: a thirty-second recording of his profound dishonor.
I wasn't just seeking an annulment. I was petitioning the Commission, and I was going to use that recording to burn his world to the ground.
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Chapter 7
Caterina POV:
At the formal dinner that evening, I could feel the weight of every gaze in the room. I was no longer the invisible interpreter; I was a player on the board. The looks were a mixture of shock, calculation, and, from some, a surprising amount of respect.
The wife of the Chicago Don, a formidable matriarch named Lena Moretti, approached me. Her diamonds glittered, but her eyes were sharper.
"Ms. Quinn," she said, her voice low and appreciative. "That was a masterclass in professionalism and courage today. Your husband is a fool. He doesn't know how to value a true asset."
Before I could reply, Jared cornered me near the terrace doors, his face a tight mask of civility.
"Kathy, we need to talk."
"We have nothing to say to each other, Jared."
"You're going to ruin our future," he hissed, his grip tightening on my elbow.
I pulled my arm away. "My future does not depend on you," I stated, my voice dangerously quiet.
"What did you expect?" I asked, my voice laced with ice. "Did you expect me to continue playing the part of the devoted wife after you left me for dead?"
He lost his temper, his voice rising slightly. "You're making a scene."
"I am merely stating facts," I replied calmly.
"It's your one-sided interpretation!" he sneered.
I slowly pulled my phone from my clutch, the polished surface cool against my fingertips. My thumb hovered over the screen. "Do you want to hear the other side? I have it right here."
His face went white, the blood draining from it so fast I thought he might faint.
Just then, Bianca materialized beside us, a vision in a pale pink dress clearly meant to convey fragility. Her eyes, however, held a calculated innocence as she feigned ignorance. "Jared? Is everything okay? Caterina, what you said today... it felt a little inappropriate, don't you think?"
I looked her dead in the eye, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Tell me, Bianca, when is the right time to speak the truth? Should I have waited until your coward got me killed?"
She recoiled, speechless.
A large, warm hand settled firmly on the small of my back. It was Rocco. "Ms. Quinn," he said, his voice a low, steady rumble that effortlessly cut through the lingering tension. "A guest wishes to speak with you."
He guided me away, his touch firm and undeniably possessive. As he led me across the grand ballroom, I didn't look back-not even once. With a sudden, profoundly liberating clarity, I realized Jared and Bianca were no longer my problem. They were, quite simply, beneath my contempt.
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