Too Late For Regret, Underboss

c lock on our penthouse and silent prayers for my husband

e, he tossed me a cheap five-dollar tourist scarf, while his ex-love

cal emergencies to comfort her over trivialities, and publicly humiliated me at

her fragile victim facade dropping ins

n't a wife who screams. It's a useless

nwavering loyalty meant nothing compared to the manipulative tears of

eagerly feeding her Syndicate intel just to play the big, strong

e neglected mafia wife

t audio recording device hid

idence to the Don's Tribunal, strip my hus

pte

na

ful families, forged to cement the east coast shipping operations-one he had spent two years treating like an afterthought. A moment passed, then the sound of brass tumblers engaging within the heavy pen

canvas duffel bag onto

smuggling routes he commanded. He rolled his broad shoulders, the seams of his tailored suit jacket strain

us of two armed guards. I had kept his home pristine, laid out his clothes, and offered silent prayers to an

been entire

o the console table. His dark eyes found me sitting at the f

d not

uld have checked his body for wounds, aske

ds over the thick manila folder containing

a low, gravelly rumble that once stirred something in me. N

der's edge. I waited until the paper's sharp corner had pressed a white l

s expression. "I was on a secure ship for three weeks, Elena. My men were dodging coast g

mpled paper bag from his coat pocket, and

muttered, his back already tur

sort one might buy for five dollars at a tourist stall near the docks. I looked at

Camilla's private soc

and the woman he claimed wa

image, she was wearing a flawless, deep-sea pearl neckl

unt was set to private, visible only to an approved circle that included Vin

hoto, resting on a table, was the dis

husband. "How long

vy measure of whiskey at the bar. "My Capos are hosting a w

ort?" I asked, tracing the chea

iskey. "Yeah. Caught my eye.

ls?" I asked,

pple across the surface of the whiskey and spilling a few drops upon his

ning. "Her media front is vital to the Family's money laundering interest

respond, his bu

gtone-the one assigne

e as he answered. "What is it?" There was a pause, and then his en

ever seen him direct at me. He grabbed his keys and unholstered the hea

said, already hea

, my voice a hollow thing i

is circling her building." He didn't even look a

definitive crack that cut the air, leaving me alone with the

and slid it into a clear plastic evidence bag I had procured from my counsel's offic

g app. I typed a message to Dominic, the Family's

o the dossier for the Don. He

nd. It was a text from an unknown number

n, looking out into the street like a lethal guardian. Under the photo, a message

. She thought she was taunting me with a burner number that couldn't be traced. She didn't realize

d at all," I

lmly activated the covert audio recording device hidden

s at eight tomorrow. Wear the red dress. Maintain the dign

, he would learn what happened when a man broke a blood vow and pushed his quiet wife too

as the only one in the room who knew exactly what Camilla was d