Reborn: The Mafia Captive Wife's Revenge

phin

nly vibrant thing about her was the crimson silk gown-a mocking symbol of the gilded cage I had rotted in for eleve

orchestrated my absolute ruin. He forged the evidence, branding me a *Rat* who sold a vital bootlegging route to the FBI. An unforgivable sin in our world. A death sentence. Under the guise of

ly break. My failing body was giv

led, biting into my bare skin, but I welcomed the pain. It meant I was still alive, if only for a few more minute

door clicked

as suffocating and dominant as ever. When his dark eyes found me standing in th

ce a low rumble over the wind. He closed the di

cone," I rasped, my

in the freezing air. He hat

e ordered, the absolute autho

ne. I pointed a trembling finger at the bonsai. "I hate this tree. I hate

le ticking in his cheek.

g gasps. "When my heart stops, don't bury me in your family plot. Throw my bod

cracked, a sound I had never

it the snow-covered tiles. He pulled me against his chest,

n my heaven and my hell. "Loving you, Damien...

me. I did it to keep

the last ounce of strength in my shattered so

we never

d faded into ab

ien

ia

and adoration, were fixed on the stormy sky, empty and unseeing. The crimson s

ighter against me, trying to force my own life into her fr

mmand held no po

, safe from the vipers of Chicago-had ultimately killed her. I buried my face in her snow-dusted ha

d she had cursed