The Don’s Fallen Angel

The day the former Don and Donna of the Carver family were killed in a meticulously planned car crash, I disappeared, carrying his child.

Everyone believed I was the traitor who had sold out the family and eloped with an enemy.

Three years later, in an underground club in Chicago, I came face-to-face with my husband, the family's new Don—Samuel Carver.

At that moment, he was a high-roller, dropping a fortune on a private show just to please his childhood sweetheart, Scarlett Thorne.

And I was a stripper, forced to dance to survive.

Throughout the performance, he clenched his jaw, his eyes boring into me.

Just as the last piece of my lingerie was about to slip off.

His handsome face twisted into a dark mask of rage. He slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet, roaring.

"Megan! Look at what you've become! Have you no shame? Willing to do anything for money?!"

I struggled to maintain my professional smile and flipped over the drink menu, revealing the bank account number I had hastily scrawled on the back.

"The private show is five thousand dollars, Don. Wire transfer works."

My days were numbered; clearing my name was the last thing on my mind.

But five thousand dollars was the exact amount I needed for the final payment on an anonymous burial plot at St. Jude's Church.

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1

A lewd whistle cut through the noise from below the stage.

Samuel's arch-nemesis, Rocco Gallo, let his lecherous gaze roam over my revealing costume and called out to him with a laugh.

"Samuel, isn't that your traitorous wife who ran off three years ago? She'd rather prance around on stage here than return to the Carver family, huh?"

"If I'd known she was your woman, I would have booked the whole club, let all my men get a good look!"

His words were like a match to gasoline, and the crowd erupted in jeers and laughter.

But Samuel seemed deaf to it all. His bloodshot eyes remained fixed on me.

Scarlett immediately stood up and snapped at Rocco Gallo.

"Megan doesn't have the nerve to show her face after she betrayed the family!"

"Rocco, if you have so much free time, you should worry more about your shipping business. You don't want your next shipment getting stuck at the port by us again. The Gallo family can't afford that kind of embarrassment!"

She then turned to me, her eyes laced with venom.

"Megan, after Samuel finally found you, this is the filthy work you're doing? You're just trying to embarrass him, aren't you!"

At her words, the fury on Samuel's face intensified. He stormed onto the stage and grabbed my neck, his grip so tight it felt as if he wanted to crush my windpipe.

Forced onto my tiptoes, I felt a burning heat flood my face.

A furious hatred burned in Samuel's eyes.

"Speak! Why did you betray my parents?! Why did you disappear without a word?!"

Gasping for air, I squeezed out a few words with all my might.

"I... did... not."

Only when my face turned a sickening shade of purple did Samuel shove me away as if tossing aside something filthy, sending me sprawling to the floor.

"Did your lover get tired of you so quickly? And where have you hidden my son?!"

I coughed violently, swallowing the metallic tang of blood before I could spit it out.

Looking up with a hollow expression, I offered the grim-faced man a cold smile.

"That man?"

"Scarlett told you I ran off with an outsider, didn't she? Some things never change. You still hang on her every word."

Samuel smashed the celebratory wine glass at his side, the shards scattering at my feet.

"And I'm supposed to believe you instead? A woman who's nothing but lies?"

The cold, resolute look in his eyes was like a thousand tiny shards of ice piercing my heart.

"Samuel, the baby is long gone. Three years ago, it was Scarlett who forced me to drink..."

"Shut up!"

He cut me off sharply, yanking me up from the floor and slamming me against the cold wall.

"Still lying! Wasn't killing my parents enough for you? Now you have to hide my child and slander Scarlett!"

"A filthy woman like you—not a single word you say can be trusted!"

Scarlett stood behind him, a cold, triumphant smirk playing on her lips.

I looked at the disgust in Samuel's eyes and suddenly laughed, tears streaming down my face.

I struggled to pry his hands off me and held out my palm.

"I'm done talking. Pay me. The private show costs five thousand dollars."

Samuel's eyes were filled with mockery.

"A cheap tramp like you is worthless. Do you really think you've earned it?"

He seized my chin, his nails digging deep into my flesh.

"You have three days. Bring my son back. Otherwise, I'll make you wish you were dead!"

He flung me aside and turned to leave.

Scarlett linked her arm through his, deliberately grinding the sharp heel of her stiletto into my bony instep as she passed.

A spike of pain lanced through my foot, but I didn't even have the strength to whimper.

A living hell?

A humorless smile twisted my lips.

The torment of my illness, the endless wandering, the shadows that had haunted me for three years...

My life was already an agony beyond words.

But it would be over soon.

Just two more days. If I could scrape together five thousand dollars, I could go to St. Jude's Church and finally be free.