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I Will Make Him a Widower Novel Cover

I Will Make Him a Widower

After washing the blood from her five-year-old daughter's broken body, a mother learns the horrifying truth: her husband Julian, the underworld's legendary Master of Whispers, was comforting his apprentice Chloe while their child died. Chloe's careless deletion of a crucial file cost the rescue mission, yet Julian slaps his wife, blames her cursed bloodline, and demands she apologize to his mistress. He believes she will never leave because she still loves him—but he has forgotten the one secret that keeps his empire standing. His famed God's Ear is a lie, powered by algorithms she secretly funded to hide his deafness. As she gathers her daughter's ashes, she makes a single call to withdraw every cent from his division. Let them bleed.
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Chapter 3

Sera's POV

My vision slowly focused on the dark shadows of the bedroom, my chest heaving as I gasped for breath.

Julian was standing by the edge of the bed, holding a thin, woven blanket in his hands.

"You looked restless," he said softly. "I just wanted to cover you."

He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, the springs dipping under his weight. I recoiled, pulling my knees to my chest.

"Sera, the dead cannot return," he said, using that measured, rational tone he reserved for syndicate negotiations. "You cannot drown in this grief. Things aren't what they seem. We need to have a pragmatic discussion about the future of the family."

My throat was raw from screaming in my sleep, so I refused to speak to him. I only wanted this traitor as far away from me as possible.

I pushed the covers off and stumbled forward barefoot, shoving my hands against his chest to force him out of my child's sanctuary.

He stepped back, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

As I pushed him toward the doorway, I froze.

Chloe Rossi was standing in the middle of my hallway.

She was wearing Julian's custom black silk sleepwear. The shirt was far too large for her, the top three buttons undone to expose her collarbone, and she held a crystal glass filled with my most expensive bourbon.

She met my eyes over the rim of the glass, swirling the amber liquid as a mocking smile touched her lips.

"Does the Don's wife need a drink?" Chloe asked, her voice dripping with a feigned, saccharine sweetness. "You look terrible."

Julian stepped out of the bedroom, standing right behind me, and a brief flash of unease crossed his face when he saw Chloe.

"Sera, let me explain," Julian said quickly. "Chloe's safehouse was compromised by a rival faction tonight. It wasn't safe for her to stay there. I brought her to the penthouse temporarily because of our security detail."

I stared at the girl in my husband's clothes, knowing the truth. She did not intend to be a temporary guest—she was here to usurp my place.

Chloe let out a long, exaggerated sigh. She sauntered past me and glanced into the living room, her eyes landing on the grand piano and the marble urn.

"It really is so tragic," Chloe murmured, her tone laced with poorly hidden amusement. "The little heir's fate. The underworld is just too dangerous for children."

The rage inside me broke through every wall of restraint I had left, a hot, sickening current through my veins.

"Get the hell out!" I roared, the sound a raw, ragged tear from my throat.

Chloe instantly dropped her mocking smile. She forced tears into her wide eyes and looked up at Julian, shrinking back like a frightened rabbit.

Julian scowled and grabbed my shoulder.

"Stop screaming, Sera," he scolded. "Chloe is only showing respect for your loss. There is no need for this hostility."

I threw his hand off my shoulder and turned my wrath on him, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"You get out too!" I screamed. "Get out of my house!"

Chloe whimpered, taking a hesitant step toward the living room.

"No, no, it's my fault," she stammered, playing the perfect victim. "I shouldn't have intruded. Let me earn my keep. I'll clean the penthouse. I'll help tidy up."

She stepped forward and reached out her hand toward the grand piano, dragging her fingers across the polished wood as she moved directly toward the marble urn.

"Don't touch her!" I shrieked, lunging forward.

Chloe feigned a dramatic startle, and her hand jerked forward.

The bourbon in her glass arced through the air, splashing across the pristine wood of the piano, while her empty palm slammed into the heavy marble urn.

It tipped over the edge of the piano and crashed onto the hardwood floor with a sickening crack.

A cloud of pale gray dust exploded into the air, the ashes settling across the dark wood, mixing with the sharp shards of broken marble.

I froze. My mind went blank, and the sound of my own heartbeat disappeared.

"Oh my god!" Chloe covered her mouth with both hands, sobbing out fake, breathy apologies. "I'm so sorry! It was an accident! I was just trying to help!"

I snapped my head up and looked at her. My eyes were bloodshot, burning with a murderous clarity so intense it tasted like copper on my tongue.

"Who gave you the right to touch her?!" I roared. "I'll kill you!"

I lunged at Chloe with the ferocity of a wild animal. I did not care about dignity, nor did I care about the syndicate rules. My only thought was to wrap my hands around her throat and tear her apart.

Chloe screamed in genuine terror, scrambling backward to hide behind Julian's tall frame.

Julian stepped into my path to shield his mistress, grabbing my wrists in an iron grip.

"Sera, have you lost your damn mind?" he shouted, shaking me. "Stop it!"

I thrashed against him, a cornered beast. My nails gouged deep, bloody tracks into his forearms as I fought to reach the girl behind him. I screamed for my daughter's vendetta, the sound tearing my vocal cords apart.

And then his hands left my wrists, and the world tilted violently backward.

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