Mafia King's Debt: My Family's Fury
At my husband's nephew's christening, I saw him across the ballroom holding a newborn with another woman. I was four months pregnant with his heir, but he was presenting her son as his own.
He had built a criminal empire, and our marriage was a strategic alliance. But now, the men who toasted our wedding were congratulating him on another woman's child, their gazes sliding right past me. My mother confirmed my worst fears: he'd been paying for his mistress's apartment for months.
His mistress, Selena, cornered me, her voice dripping with venom. "He chose me. And our son." The stress brought on sharp, agonizing cramps, but when my husband, Dante, rushed over, he took her side. "Calm down," he commanded. "You're making a scene."
He accused me of being hysterical, of cornering his fragile mistress who had just given birth. Through a haze of pain, I watched him shield her from me, his wife, telling me to go home and "be rational."
The public humiliation was absolute. In the lawyer's office, Selena slapped me, then knocked over her own baby's carrier and screamed that I had attacked her child. Dante believed her without question. As I collapsed from the pain, the last thing I saw was his back as he walked away with his new family.
I woke up in the hospital. He arrived with his mistress, not to see if I was okay, but to demand I apologize to her.
That was the moment the woman he married died. And in her place, someone new was born.
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Chapter 2
Seraphina POV:
"It must be the pregnancy hormones," Selena purred, her eyes flicking down to my stomach with a look of pure contempt. "I've heard they can be dreadful."
"Don't you dare talk about my pregnancy," I hissed, my voice trembling with a rage so profound it felt like it might split me in two.
She laughed, a light, airy sound that didn't reach her cold eyes. "Why not? We're practically sisters in this. My little Dante Jr. is already here, you see. A real, living heir."
"He made a mistake," I said, the words feeling weak and hollow even to my own ears.
"It wasn't a mistake. It was a choice," she countered, leaning in, her voice a venomous whisper. "He chose me. He chose our son. He told me there were... complications with your pregnancy. That you might not even be able to carry to term."
The violation of it was so absolute it felt like a physical blow. He had discussed the intimate, terrifying details of my high-risk pregnancy with this woman.
Just then, a sharp pain, like a hot poker, lanced through my lower abdomen. I gasped, stumbling back against the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over me.
Selena's fake mask of concern morphed into a sneer. "Oh, look. The drama begins." She raised her voice just enough to draw attention. "Sera, please. Don't do this here. Let's just be civil."
As if on cue, Dante rushed over, his face a thundercloud. His eyes went straight to Selena, not to me.
"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low. "Sera, are you cornering her?"
"She was taunting me," I cried out, doubling over as another, more violent cramp ripped through me.
"Calm down," Dante commanded, his voice ringing with public authority. He placed a protective hand on Selena's arm, shielding her from me. "You're making a scene. She's fragile. She just had a baby."
His men, including his Capo, Riccardo, closed in, their faces a mixture of pity for the brave little mistress and disapproval for the hysterical, pregnant wife. I was being gaslit by an entire room of gangsters.
Through a haze of pain, I saw Selena begin to sob, delicate, theatrical tears welling in her eyes. "I just want peace," she whispered. "For my son."
Dante pulled her into a full embrace. "Just go home, Sera," he said over her shoulder, his voice cold and dismissive. "We'll talk when you're being rational."
The public humiliation was absolute. I straightened up, the physical pain momentarily eclipsed by a cold, hard clarity. The woman he thought he knew, the one who always came back, was gone.
"I'm leaving," I said, my voice eerily calm. I turned and walked away, not looking back as his final, arrogant words followed me out the door.
"She's just being dramatic," he assured the room. "She'll cool down. She always comes back."