The Mafia King's Unwanted Pregnant Wife

Alessia POV:

I didn't sleep. The love I’d felt for Dante, the all-consuming fire that had defined my life for four years, had burned itself out. All that remained were cold, grey ashes and an unnerving emptiness.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, my decision was made. Not with tears or anger, but with a chilling, absolute clarity.

Using a burner phone I kept hidden for emergencies, I sent a single, coded message to my mother’s Consigliere. The escape plan was in motion.

When Dante came downstairs, he looked refreshed, happy. The sight of it made the ashes in my chest stir with a bitter wind.

He approached me, his expression turning serious, but his eyes held a spark of excitement. It was the look of a man about to get everything he wanted.

“Alessia,” he began, his tone grave. “We need to perform the ritual. To sever the bond.”

I looked at him, my face a perfect mask of calm. “I agree.”

The shock on his face was almost comical. He had expected tears, begging, a fight. My placid agreement threw him completely off balance.

“You… you do?” he stammered.

“Yes,” I said, my voice even. “It’s for the best.”

“It’s just a formality, you understand,” he said quickly, trying to regain control. “A temporary measure. To protect Serena’s child from… pack politics. Once things settle down, I will petition for your forgiveness. We can be mated again.”

He was lying. He was lying to my face, assuming I was too stupid or too broken to see it. He wanted to have it all—his new family and me, his dutiful omega, waiting in the wings.

He reached for me, his hand cupping my cheek. “You’re being so understanding,” he murmured, relief flooding his features. He believed his own pathetic lies. “This is why you are the perfect mate.”

He leaned in to kiss me.

I turned my head just enough that his lips brushed my cheek instead. It still felt like being touched by a snake. He didn’t seem to notice, mistaking my revulsion for maidenly shyness.

“I’ll go tell Serena the good news,” he said, practically beaming. He turned and bounded up the stairs, a man freed from a burden.

A moment later, I heard them. Laughter. Her delighted, triumphant laugh, and his, deep and relieved. They were celebrating my destruction.

I sat alone in the silent kitchen, my hand closing around the cold, smooth surface of my burner phone. Let them celebrate.

He wanted the bond severed.

I was going to give him exactly what he wanted. And with it, I would take my freedom.