Traded To The Bratva: My Husband's Betrayal

't just a home; it

the front door. He called it protection

stimated me. I di

I knew the service elevator codes bett

er East Side, the kind of dive where smoke hung low like

e. She was a ghost in the machine,

waste time on pleasantries. She just sli

features. "Medical records from Dr. Evans. Lucia has been seeing him for s

he dates stared back a

. It wasn't a drunk

arried out while I was busy p

he Bratva didn't just take you, Seraphina. They were tipped

, acid rising in m

a plume of smoke. "Or maybe t

side felt heavy, suffocating, pressur

to go to

Vitiello Mansion.

h superstition, as if they were looking a

d when I entered. He just looked at me with those cold, calcul

ne at the cemeter

ank God you're alive.'* Just

ate daughter," I said, slamming the file onto hi

t even look a

child is a Moretti.

ou have been gone, Seraphina. You

ord like it w

ds. Dante is genero

hysical blow. "He traded me," I whispered, my

from his cigar onto the pristine rug. "Lucia was pregnant w

at scraped against my throat. "Expendabl

remorse. "Go home to your husband. Be a good wife. Raise Lu

the study, sha

buzzed in

an unknown number

photo o

d, rounded belly. His eyes were closed, a l

on beneat

re than he ever loved you. Sur

until the screen cra

ent. They wanted me to b

to burn thei