He Chose the Wrong Daughter

na

vening. I tried to push it away as Julian carefully cut the rest of Sofia's c

bed in our penthouse, I walked out to the livi

, a stark silhouette against the glittering tapestr

ur. He was in full Boss mode. Without turning, he stepped o

s, the beat of my own

e leather sofa. He unbuttoned his shirt and walked down the hall t

own rule

ed in the passcode I had secret

d. I opened the se

ad of messages with a

ze the divorce. She talked about a gi

and my hands

mparing Selina to me in bed. He told her I was boring. H

screen. The illusion of my perfect mafia marriage sp

d an im

at a theme park. They looked like a happy family.

t was the same woman from t

s the unvarnished truth. He had been maintaining

hut off in

ther cushion exactly where he had left it. I wiped my face and stepped

essly. He told me he had a late-night syndicate meeting, his eye

orehead, and announced he would be

s he picked up his keys

s and ran down to the garage. I got into my

he did not notice me slipping

It was a property I had never seen, an asset kept entirely off the boo

n gates

self into the Don's arms. She pouted and complained

led my window down just enough to hear hi

nt. He told her I

s and pulled the Boss into

ecorded the illicit encounter from the darkness

ruthless divorce attorney in New York. I demanded papers be drawn up

her chest rise and fall as she slept. I debated whethe

my daughter. I vowed t

em, the other woman's daughter would collapse in a school hallway-and the