The Mafia Queen's Bloody Vengeance

The Mafia Queen's Bloody Vengeance

Gavin

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I woke up with a searing pain in my side, hearing my husband Ethan's voice just outside the door. He was telling our doctor he'd taken my kidney without my consent to give to his mistress. "Her body is a family asset," he said, then walked in and lied that my own kidney had failed. For ten years, I built his mafia empire and nursed him back from death. In return, he carved me up like an animal for the woman he was cheating with. As he held my hand, feigning concern, I decided to make a call. To the one man in this city my husband truly fears.

Chapter 1

I woke up with a searing pain in my side, hearing my husband Ethan's voice just outside the door.

He was telling our doctor he'd taken my kidney without my consent to give to his mistress.

"Her body is a family asset," he said, then walked in and lied that my own kidney had failed.

For ten years, I built his mafia empire and nursed him back from death. In return, he carved me up like an animal for the woman he was cheating with.

As he held my hand, feigning concern, I decided to make a call.

To the one man in this city my husband truly fears.

Chapter 1

Seraphina POV:

The first thing I registered was the pain, a searing fire that ripped through my side. It was a brutal, physical thing, an anchor pulling me from the black fog of unconsciousness. My throat was raw, my head thick with a chemical haze. I was in a bed, the sheets too starchy, the air sterile and cold. Not my bed.

A low murmur drifted from outside the slightly ajar door. Two voices. One was Dr. Gallo, our family's physician for two decades. The other belonged to Ethan. My Ethan.

"Is she stable?" Ethan's voice was clipped, impatient. The sound of it, usually a comfort, sent a tremor of wrongness through me.

"She will be," Dr. Gallo replied, his tone heavy. "But, Ethan, this was reckless. To take it without her consent... it violates every oath I've ever taken."

Take what? Confusion warred with the encroaching panic. My hand moved instinctively to my side, fingers probing the thick bandage taped to my skin. Beneath it, the source of the fire pulsed.

"Her consent was a liability we couldn't afford," Ethan's voice was ice. "Isabella needed it. That's all that matters. Sera is strong; she'll recover. She always does."

Isabella.

His mistress. The woman he swore was just a fleeting comfort after he was nearly killed in an ambush six months ago. The woman who was now living in our home.

The cold that washed over me had nothing to do with the room's temperature. It was a deep, internal freeze, a paralysis of the soul. He wasn't talking about something he'd borrowed. He was talking about something he had *taken*. From inside me.

A memory flickered through the fog. Me, accepting a glass of water from his hand last night, my head already feeling heavy. Him, smiling that smile that had always made my world tilt on its axis. "Just relax, cara," he'd murmured. "You've been working too hard."

The fog cleared, replaced by a horrifying, crystalline clarity. He had drugged me.

Dr. Gallo sighed, a sound of profound weariness. "Her blood type is rare, Ethan. A perfect match for Isabella, yes, but what if she has complications? What if she needs a transfusion?"

"Then she'll get one," Ethan said dismissively. "She's my wife. Her body, her blood... it's a family asset. It belongs to the Costellos. Now, how soon until Isabella can receive the transplant?"

A family asset.

The words echoed in the sudden, roaring silence of my mind. Ten years. Ten years I had dedicated to him, to the Costello family. I built his legitimate businesses from the ground up, laundering millions and giving the Bratva a respectable face. I nursed him back from the brink of death after that ambush, holding his hand through fevers and nightmares. I loved him with a loyalty so absolute it was a religion.

And he carved me up like a piece of meat to save the woman he was fucking.

The pain in my side was nothing compared to the agony that ripped through my chest. It felt like my heart was being torn from its moorings. The physical violation was horrific, but the casual way he spoke of me-like a resource to be harvested-that's what broke me.

He appeared in the doorway then, his handsome face arranged into a mask of concern. He saw my eyes were open and rushed to my side, taking my hand. His touch felt like a brand.

"Sera, thank God. You gave us all a scare. You collapsed. Your kidney... it failed. We had to perform an emergency removal."

The lie was so bald, so insulting, it almost made me laugh. My eyes flickered to the door, where I could see Dr. Gallo's shadow lingering. He couldn't meet my gaze. He knew.

I looked back at Ethan, at the man I thought was my life, my future. I saw him for what he was. A monster wearing the face of a king.

Every last drop of love, of devotion, of loyalty I had ever felt for him evaporated in that single, cold moment. It left behind a hollow, aching void. And in that void, something new and hard began to form. An idea. A plan.

He squeezed my hand. "Don't worry. I'm here. I'll take care of you."

I didn't pull away. I let my fingers lie limp in his. I let the tears that welled in my eyes spill over, playing the part of the frightened, fragile wife. He needed to believe I was broken. He needed to underestimate me. It was the only weapon I had left.

As he stroked my hair, murmuring empty comforts, my mind was already moving. There was only one man in this city Ethan feared. One rival powerful enough to challenge the Costello empire. A man whose name was spoken in whispers, a ghost who controlled the city's north side with an iron fist.

Dante Moretti.

When Ethan finally left, promising to return shortly, I waited for the sound of his footsteps to fade completely. The pain in my side was a vicious, constant reminder of what he had done. It fueled me. Slowly, painfully, I reached for my phone on the bedside table. My fingers trembled, not from weakness, but from a cold, simmering rage.

I found the encrypted number I had acquired years ago for strategic intelligence. A number I had never, ever planned to use. A number that meant breaking Omertà, the sacred code of silence. It was a death sentence.

But I was already dead. Ethan had killed the woman I used to be.

The phone was answered on the first ring. A low, gravelly voice. "Yes?"

My voice was a raw whisper, but it didn't shake. "I have information that will bring down the Costello family," I said, the words tasting like ash and freedom. "I want to speak to Dante Moretti. Tell him Seraphina Valentino is cashing out."

There was a pause, a silence that stretched for an eternity.

Then, the voice on the other end said, "Stay where you are. We're coming."

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