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Mrs. Russo’s Last Performance Novel Cover

Mrs. Russo’s Last Performance

For three years, she endured the humiliation of being Vincent Russo's wife in name only. While the billionaire heir filled the tabloids with his endless affairs, high society pitied her as a mere substitute who stole another woman's place. But her compliance was never out of love for Vincent. To wipe out her massive debt and secure life-saving medical treatment for the man she actually loves, she signed a secret pact with Don Antonio. Now, her final performance is about to end.
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Chapter 1

In the New York underworld, it was an open secret that I was Vincent Russo’s wife in name only.

We had a marriage certificate, but none of the intimacy that was supposed to come with it.

For three years, the women in his bed were a revolving door.

The tabloids were filled with photos of him carousing in Las Vegas with a parade of different women.

The next day, those photos would be the talk of every high-society luncheon.

He never cared about my dignity, convinced I had stolen the place beside him from the woman he truly loved.

The Russo family pitied me, whispering that I was just an unfortunate substitute, a pawn in a marriage alliance.

I never defended myself, only smiling as I covered up his every scandal, playing the part of the perfect Mrs. Russo.

They didn't know I had signed a secret contract with his father, Don Antonio.

If I could just endure these three years, my massive debt would be wiped clean, and the man I loved would finally get the life-saving treatment he needed.

————————

1

Everyone knew Vincent hated me.

I was the wife Don Antonio had forced upon him after his first love, Cassandra, left him.

It wasn't just that he didn't love me; he wished I would vanish from his life entirely.

After we married, I played the part of the perfect Mrs. Russo, complying with his every demand.

But he was clearly not satisfied with that, tormenting me with a constant stream of scandals.

Whenever his picture with a Hollywood starlet or a supermodel hit the front page, I had to endure the wrath of his mother, Isla. "You can't even control your own husband," she would accuse me.

At times like these, Vincent would always lean against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his lips, enjoying the show.

A look of brazen defiance smoldered in his eyes.

My friends were indignant on my behalf, calling Vincent an irredeemable bastard.

But I refused to show any resentment.

I smiled, used my PR skills to bury the trending stories, and accompanied him to family events with a graceful smile.

I played the part of a gracious, elegant, and impeccable wife.

Because in one more month, that damned contract would expire.

I would finally be free.

But before I had the chance to celebrate, Cassandra Marino returned.

They were tangled up together that very day, eager to tear apart my last shred of dignity.

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