Breaking The Cage: The Mafia Wife's Revenge

ly I knew existed, preparing to tell my husband, the ruthles

hare the news, the b

was Serena, the woman from the photos I had received just hours a

Michael," she purred in fro

ass of red wine all over me. The liquid soaked into my

ael to defend me.

at the crowd, ter

ssed, his eyes cold. "Go upstair

away with his mistress, leaving me

bbing in the bedroom

she said. "Tonight, Michae

his reputation. But that wasn't

uld protect this child, but his f

I whispered to the butler, m

sed a miscarriage. Tell

nd Michael Thorne is about to fin

pte

via

new existed when the envelope slid under the door. It was

name. Just a thick, heavy silence that screamed louder

tinct woven into my DNA. In the world of the Chicago Outfit, anony

e it

ll onto the plush carp

nished fro

istakable. Michael Thorne. My husband. The man who had sworn vows to me in a

his tie loose. A woman with dark, cascading hair was leaning into him

the look in his eyes. He looked at her the way

My hand went instin

e mo

. A baby that was supposed to cement the peace between our families.

awled out before me, a grid of lights and power. From up here, i

t was

en cage. A very expens

mily butler, kno

voice sounded hollow

professional indifference, but I saw the flicker of pity in

nd Mr. Thorne has just called. He is on his final appr

ere first?" I aske

. He cited

af

police commissioner and half the zon

, Jennings

dropping briefly to the photo on th

ything else,

to scream. I wanted to burn th

ng my spine straigh

closing the door on

at felt like a fairytale. Michael was handsome, ruthless, and charming. He made m

three months ago. Business, he s

i

eth Hayes, had wa

steak with surgical precision. "It is your job to be the main cours

ing cynical. I thoug

I ran to it, hoping for an ex

at the gala. Wea

ilence. No 'I missed

. It rang once. Twi

led a

cem

just cheating. He was dismissing me. He was treating me like a

Pale skin. Wide eyes. A body tha

. I could cry. I

ctly who I was. I was a Hayes. My father ran

ter in my sto

to the reflection. "Even if I have

strapless, and fit like a second skin. I

ed to match. I slid my feet into heels t

nd tonight, Michael Thorne finds