Betrayed Heiress: My Husband's Deadly Mistake

st powerful crime family. My husband, Austen, told me he w

e warehouse, the steel do

I was locked inside an i

b. They were laughing. He told me he didn't care about his son; he on

off," he

was instant. I begged him to stop, screaming for the

h of ice and my own blood,

, was dead and buried. He thought I was just a helpless,

as w

looked through the glass and mou

he warehouse doors didn't ju

walked the man Austen

. But my husband was

pte

zy

the city, yet the man I loved was about to sacrifice us bot

ffocating. It was a wet, heavy heat that clung to my skin like

e their normal size, and my back throbbed with a dull, pers

ily-a logistics empire built on blood money and buried b

ighty-fiv

d the control panel on the far wall. The office was sleek,

for mercy-would have leveled this building to the ground

was gone. Or

mperature. The cool air kicked on wi

me, Mrs.

ced with a venom I was t

lass surface. She was my husband's executive assistant. She was also the wo

ng against the wall for support. "It is

e cardigan tighter around her shoulders. She

terrible cramps today. The cold air makes them

patience fraying. "And my husband is

he dial do

her purse, her face twisting into a mask of sudden, exaggerated pain.

she whimpered. "I think I n

old air. I closed my eyes, letting the relief wash over me, u

e penthouse was

e was a man hewn from marble and ambition, a low-level associate who h

ing the reins while the underwor

oyer to greet him, a pro

n," I

cheek. He did not touch my stomach. He went straight to

tretched, tig

inally. His voice was low, devoid o

closer. "She sai

Austen said, tu

r seen them. He looked at me not as his w

s. Physical distress caused b

the air conditioning, Austen. It was eigh

ish, Isolde,"

ck me like a

es around your comfort. Deb is a loyal employee. She helps me run t

rned in my throat. "I

king everyone hate you. You are making me look

slammed the glass down. The sound echoe

or a second, I thought he

softening into something that looked

is hair. "The stress. The transition. It is too m

d me int

ered no comfort. I rested my cheek against his suit, smellin

eve that this coldness was just the weigh

his right," he whi

he gap between us, not realizing that he was alre