The Mafia Wife He Never Knew Was Dying

A month ago, Perez threw a welcome-home party for Sandy.

That night, he kissed her passionately right in front of me, letting her mark his skin with her teeth in a deliberate act of humiliation.

First, Sandy demanded he prove his love with a French kiss.

Before his lips touched hers, he downed the whiskey I had poured for him. Then he crushed his mouth to hers, passing the liquor from his tongue to hers.

Second, Sandy demanded he take off his shirt so she could leave seven hickeys on his abs, one for each year they were apart.

He stood before me, his voice glacial as he ordered me to unbutton the silk shirt I'd spent all morning ironing for him.

Third, Sandy melted against him, pulling a room key from her purse in a silent invitation.

He tossed a black card at me and ordered me to go buy them cigars.

I came back and slammed a box of Cohibas—his most hated brand—onto the table and walked out.

In the middle of the night, the smoke triggered Sandy's asthma. She went into shock and was hospitalized.

To punish me, he ordered his men to shoot Ghost.

I found out just as my doctor confirmed my relapse. Sandy sent me a video call, a smug smirk twisting her lips.

"Valerie, I'm so sorry. Your dog… I accidentally let him wander onto the shooting range. He was shot dead."

My knuckles whitened around the phone as a fine, sharp pain radiated from my chest.

Ghost was the white wolfdog we had once promised to raise together.

His snow-white fur was the first pure color I saw after waking from one of my many resuscitations.

He had been my constant companion through the ten most painful years of my life, only to be silenced by a single bullet.

Tears streamed down my face. I hung up the phone.

In a daze, I returned to my bedroom and curled up on the bed, trying to draw a sliver of warmth from the cold sheets.

Just then, my phone began to buzz frantically, a flood of text messages pouring in.

*Valerie, do you know who orchestrated your ‘affair’ scandal?*

*It was Perez!*

*He knows you hate betrayal more than anything. He did it anyway, all for one of Sandy's jokes!*

The anonymous messages sent a chill through my entire body.

My eyes were glued to the screen. *Perez orchestrated my affair.*

A wave of nausea rose, and a metallic taste of blood filled my throat.

I once had a happy family, but my father became a mafia informant. My mother was murdered in the ensuing retaliation, dying to protect me.

That night, the smell of my mother's blood was everywhere—in my mouth, my nose, my eyes.

I had laid my deepest vulnerabilities bare to him, trusting him completely.

And Perez had once cherished and protected them.

Now, for one of Sandy's cruel jokes, he was using betrayal to twist the knife where he knew it would hurt most.

My body convulsed in pain. I took no more painkillers, letting the agony consume me until I finally passed out.

When I woke the next day, I signed for a package from my doctor containing a chemical agent.

I had just unsealed the vial and placed it in my bag.

Just then, the estate's main gate was kicked open with a deafening crash.

"Valerie! You sent Cohibas to Sandy! Who the hell gave you that order?"

Perez stood there, radiating a cold fury, his eyes churning with disgust.

I was stunned. Behind him, I saw Sandy, her hand covering her mouth to hide a sly, satisfied smirk.

"Perez, I have never been so humiliated!"

"I have to make her pay for this…"

Before she could finish, Sandy strode forward.

She slapped me across the face, again and again.

The sharp crack of her palm against my skin echoed four times. *Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.*

My cheeks burned, red and swollen.

Bracing myself against the wall, I regained my senses, grabbed a nearby crystal decanter, and smashed it over her head with all my might.

With a sickening crack, the decanter shattered against Sandy's skull.

I stared Perez dead in the eye and finally posed the question I dreaded asking.

"Perez, the 'affair'… was it you?"