My Mafia Husband's Deadly Secre

sia

ent of the hotel ballroom off my skin. My phone rang from the marble count

the h

r from my lungs. I stumbled out of the shower, grabbing a

anic, crackled over the line. "It's your fath

xt thing I knew, I was in the back of a car, urging the Moretti drive

s cordoned off. Nurses were rushing, doctors were arguing, and a lin

o in," one of them stated, his

o Ricci!" I cried, my voice ra

cci? He's been moved to the third-floor ov

e my father

I found him in a small, crowded room, hooked up to a dozen machines that

the young resident who

list, Dr. Evans, but..." He trailed off, looking nervously t

voice low and danger

Miss De Luca. From a prominent family. It'

bel

was her. That phone call I'd seen her make. This was her cruelty-a calc

my mind. "There's a private cardiac center two miles from

rate scramble. But for

him as we sped through the city streets, sirens wailing.

locks away whe

sharp, brutal jolt sent the ambulance careening into a row of parked cars. It wasn'

ied. The sir

elled. "It's going to take

rim. The rhythmic beep of my father's heart

en it

single, long,

te delay had

mber a doctor, his expression a mask of practiced pity, deli

t, cold, empty space had opened up

e guards were gone. The floor was qui

flat, devoid of all emotio

nodded. "Yes. She left about twent

The final,

ct. This wasn't a

ly planned execution. A vende

inside me didn't just harden. It froze, then fractured, and

one. My hand was

to the lawyer M

thing. Burn it a