Too Late To Beg: My Cold Ex-Husband

On our ninth anniversary, my husband Dominick didn't toast to us. Instead, he rested his hand on his mistress's pregnant belly in front of the entire crime family.

I was just a debt payment to him, a ghost in a forty-thousand-dollar gown.

But the humiliation didn't end in the ballroom. When his mistress, Chastity, started hemorrhaging later that night, he didn't call an ambulance. He dragged me to the family clinic.

He knew I had a serious heart condition. He knew a transfusion of that magnitude could trigger a fatal cardiac event.

"She is carrying my son," he said, his eyes devoid of any humanity.

"You will give her whatever she needs."

I begged him. I bargained for my freedom. He lied and agreed, just to get the needle in my arm.

As my dark red blood flowed through the tube to save the woman destroying my life, my chest tightened. The monitors began to scream. My heart was failing.

"Mr. Reyes! She's crashing!" the doctor shouted.

Dominick didn't even turn around.

He walked out of the room to hold Chastity's hand, leaving me to die on the table.

I survived, but Annis Myers died in that clinic.

He thought I would return to the penthouse and continue being his obedient, silent wife. He thought he owned the blood in my veins.

He was wrong.

I went back to the penthouse one last time. I struck a match.

I let the room burn.

By the time Dominick realized I wasn't in the ashes, I was already on a plane to London.

I had left my wedding ring in an envelope, along with the medical records that proved his cruelty.

He wanted a war? I would give him one.

Chapter 1

Annis POV

I stood in the center of the ballroom wearing a forty-thousand-dollar gown, watching my husband rest his hand on another woman's pregnant belly while our guests toasted to nine years of our marriage.

The crystal flute in my hand didn't shatter. I didn't scream. I didn't throw my drink in his face.

I just took a sip of the vintage champagne -a bottle that cost more than my father's life -and I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

Dominick Reyes was not just a husband. He was a Capo in the Olsen crime family, a man who had killed seven men before his twenty-fifth birthday and doubled the family's territory in the last three years. He was a predator in a tailored suit, and I was the debt payment his family had accepted nine years ago.

Tonight was supposed to be about us.

Instead, he had brought Chastity.

She wore red. A vibrant, blood-red silk that clung to the swell of her stomach, a stark contrast to my pale, icy blue. She looked like life. I looked like a ghost.

Dominick's hand lingered on the small of her back as he guided her through the crowd of made men and their silent wives. Every eye in the room darted between me and the mistress, hungry for the fallout.

I kept my chin high. Omerta wasn't just a code for the men. It was a cage for the women. Silence was my armor.

Dominick steered her toward me. His eyes, dark as oil and twice as slick, met mine. There was no apology in them. Only the cold, hard weight of ownership.

"Annis," he said. His voice was a low rumble that used to make my toes curl. Now it just made my stomach turn. "You remember Chastity."

I looked at the woman who was carrying the child I couldn't give him. She smirked, a small, cruel thing.

"Happy anniversary, Mrs. Reyes," she said. Her hand rested protectively over her bump. "Dom thought it would be safer if I stayed at the main estate tonight. The city is so unpredictable."

I looked at Dominick.

"Is she staying in the guest wing?" I asked. My voice was steady. I had practiced this steadiness in the mirror for two weeks, ever since I found the receipt for the crib.

Dominick took a sip of his scotch.

"No," he said. He didn't even blink. "She needs comfort. She'll take the master suite. You can take the guest quarters down the hall."

The air left the room.

He wasn't just cheating on me. He was evicting me from my own marriage bed in front of the entire organization. He was stripping me of my rank, my dignity, and my place, all without drawing a weapon.

I nodded once.

"As you wish, Dominick."

I turned to walk away, my heels clicking a hollow rhythm on the marble floor. I needed to get to the bedroom before they did. I needed the bag I had hidden inside the ventilation duct two weeks ago.

I was halfway to the corridor when I heard them laughing.

I paused near a pillar, hidden by a massive floral arrangement of white lilies-funeral flowers.

"She's such a doormat," Jake, Dominick's second-in-command, chuckled. "I bet you ten grand she apologizes to you for existing by morning."

Dominick's voice drifted over, heavy with arrogance.

"Annis knows her place. She's a good investment. Quiet. Obedient. And her father's debt is paid as long as she wears my ring. She isn't going anywhere."

I touched the platinum rosary bracelet on my wrist. It was the only thing I had left of my mother. It was the only thing Dominick hadn't bought.

I went to the master bedroom. I didn't cry. I was done crying. I pulled the small duffel bag from the vent. Cash. A burner phone. A passport in a name that didn't carry the weight of blood money.

I turned to leave, but the door handle turned.

Dominick walked in, Chastity clinging to his arm like a parasite.

"What are you doing?" Dominick asked. His eyes dropped to the bag in my hand.

"I'm moving to the guest room, like you asked," I lied.

Chastity's eyes zeroed in on my wrist.

"Oh, Dom, look," she cooed, pointing at my mother's rosary. "That bracelet. It would match my dress perfectly. And since I'm carrying the heir... shouldn't I have the family jewels?"

"It's not family jewelry," I said, my grip on the bag tightening. "It was my mother's."

Dominick didn't care about sentiment. He cared about power. And right now, giving his mistress what she wanted was a display of power.

"Give it to her, Annis," he said.

"No."

The word hung in the air. I had never said no to him. Not when he married me. Not when he forced me to cut ties with my sister. Not when he came home smelling of other women's perfume.

Dominick stepped forward. The temperature in the room dropped. He grabbed my wrist. His grip was bruising.

"You are my wife because I allow it," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "Everything you have is mine. Even the blood in your veins. Give her the bracelet."

He unclasped it with rough fingers and handed it to Chastity.

She held it up to the light, smiling. Then, looking directly at me, she pulled the delicate platinum chain taut between her hands.

"Oops," she said.

She snapped it.

The beads scattered across the hardwood floor like hail.

She gasped, dropping the broken pieces and grabbing her finger. A tiny drop of blood welled up where the metal had scratched her.

"She attacked me!" Chastity screamed, shrinking back against Dominick. "She tried to snatch it back and cut me!"

It was a lie so clumsy a child could see through it. But Dominick didn't want the truth. He wanted submission.

He shoved me. I stumbled back, hitting the wall hard.

"Apologize," he snarled.

I looked at him. I looked at the man I had spent nine years trying to please, trying to love, trying to survive.

"No," I said.

Dominick's face contorted with rage. He pointed to the door.

"Get out. Before I forget that I don't hit women."

I grabbed my bag. I didn't look at the beads on the floor. I walked out of the penthouse, down the service elevator, and out into the cool night air.

A black sedan was waiting at the curb. The window rolled down.

Haven Harper looked at me from the driver's seat. His eyes were kind. Safe.

"Get in, Annis," he said.

I opened the door. I didn't look back at the building that had been my prison. I just wanted to disappear.