His Mafia Princess's Revenge

ine lashes for me, had just locked me in a guest room. I was fo

of wine on his mistress, a wom

it to her to raise as her own. Later, she shoved me down the grand staircase, the

hed past me, scooping her into his arms and car

s brought to my hospital room and brutally

was a monster who believed every lie she told and punished me for her crime

y terminated the pregnancy. I took the urn containing our child's

pte

phin

st locked me in a guest room for throwing a glass of wine on his mistress. And in that c

me at the long mahogany table that had been in the Bianchi family for generations

with manufactured sweetness. "You look a littl

Everyone knew her place, yet she spok

across the table and gave her a small, tight smile. "Some things just do

ashed in her eyes before she masked it with a

simply rose from his chair, his presence alone enough to suffocate the room. He was a living myth in the New

you learn your place, Seraphina," he said,

corted from my own dining ro

a holding cell. The door clicks open and Lorenzo steps inside. H

s, not as a husband, but as a

forts. I cradle my stomach, a four-month swell that was once th

and on my stomach, but there is no affection in the touch. It's

voice a low growl. "A lesson in loyalty. You

s me dizzy. This isn't the man I married. This

he heir to the Bianchi empire; I was an outsider. When his father, the former Don, demanded he marry for an alliance, Lorenzo refused. He chose me. A

ystals. A testament, he'd whispered, to his obsession. He was the man who would fly his private j

man i

it when she brazenly referred to Lorenzo as "my man" at a ch

to of her on his phone. The look on his face-that obsessive, h

nd logical. "A way to root out weakness in our organization

d he would

l assistant." He flaunted her at board meetings, their heads ben

looked at me, his eyes cold. "

her smile triumphant. "He's almost mine, you know. He says once the baby i

pped. I threw a glass o

. It was from a private social media account of hers. A picture of her and Lorenzo, locked in a

dead weight in my chest. He was

m d

saved weeks ago, a discreet clinic two towns

n the silent room. "I'd like to schedu