Exposed The Ex Begs for Reconciliation

Three years ago, my fiancée Elena left me at the altar on a twisted dare, humiliating me in front of our entire mafia syndicate.

Today, she blocked my headquarters with nine armored cars, demanding I divorce my pregnant wife and serve her again.

"Hiring a pregnant woman to make me jealous is a bit desperate, Liam," she sneered, tossing a cheap ring at my feet.

When I ignored her to escort my wife, Sienna, to her medical checkup, Elena's childhood friend Julian deliberately lunged at Sienna's swollen stomach.

I threw myself in the way to take the brutal impact, but the shockwave sent Sienna to the emergency room with a threatened miscarriage.

Even as the medical staff scrambled to save my unborn heir, Elena grabbed my sleeve to defend the man who caused it.

"He made a mistake! Why are you holding onto a grudge?" she cried, insisting I was just throwing a tantrum to get her attention.

For seven years, I took bullets to secure her family's territory, only to be discarded like a stray dog when she got bored.

What made her think I would spend three years waiting to be her loyal servant, let alone forgive the attempted murder of my child?

Looking at her entitled, delusional face, the last shred of my restraint turned to ash.

I pulled out my phone to broadcast the security footage to the entire underworld, and calmly ordered my men to erase her family from existence.

Chapter 1

Liam Russo POV

Three years to the day after she left me at the altar to be humiliated by the entire Cosa Nostra, my ex-fiancée parked nine armored Maybachs in front of my syndicate headquarters. She emerged holding a cheap diamond ring to demand I divorce my pregnant wife and serve her again.

The afternoon sun glared off the tinted windows of the blockade she had formed across the main entrance.

I stood on the top step of the corporate building, my hand resting on the small of my wife's back.

Sienna was five months pregnant with our second child.

Through the thin silk of her dress, I could feel the faint, deep thrum of a second heartbeat, a pulse that anchored the violence coiling in my gut.

Elena Falcone stepped out of the lead car, wearing a red designer dress that screamed for attention.

She walked toward us with a confident sway, ignoring the dozen heavily armed guards flanking my sides.

"Are you done with this theatrical facade yet, Liam?" she asked, her voice carrying over the idle hum of the engines.

She stopped a few feet away, her eyes scanning Sienna from head to toe with blatant disgust.

"Hiring a pregnant woman to make me jealous is a bit desperate, even for you."

"Move your cars, Elena," I said.

My voice was planed of all inflection, a flat surface she could find no purchase on.

She laughed-a sharp and grating sound-and reached into the passenger seat of her car to pull out a single red rose.

"Your tantrum has gone on long enough, Liam."

She held the flower out to me.

"It is time to come home to me."

I looked at the rose, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat.

Three years ago, I spent seven years acting as her shield in the brutal underworld, taking bullets and beatings to secure her family's territory.