The Five-Year Lie, A Mafia Wife's Vows

and father when they told me they ha

olding the hand of a little b

to keep a Mafia alliance stable while he

covered their plan to have me drugged, dec

party to celebrate their pe

ir plot, for our e

pte

a P

was dead. For five y

f a private clinic, holding the hand

't just crack

, Isabella, had tried to have me drugged and assaulted, to ruin the alliance between our families. My father, Don Vittorio Marino, and Dante

te had vowed, his thumb brushing awa

, heavy stone. It meant a quiet car ride,

e, believed them. I built my life on that lie, on

back at me from across t

smile the same sly curve I remembered. But the man beside her, the

e's jet-black hair, the strong set of his jaw, and a pa

oulder, the easy intimacy in Isabella's laugh as she leaned into him.

ifted down the corridor. "Daddy promised to

e

dd

cold, polished floor met my hands and knees with a dull thud. I couldn't breathe. The

my hu

s her

ttle boy wa

tood by and watched me mourn a ghost, all while she was living, breathing, and building a family with the man who slept in my b

name flashed on the screen. Sofia Marino. I stared at it, a bitter

ice a stranger's, thin an

oice was a smooth caress, laced with the practiced concern of a politician's wife. But today, I heard the st

p, my legs trembling. "Just admiring

lled with calculations I was on

y, dear. Don't be out to

ew I wasn't at a gallery. And I knew she knew. The emergen

s later, h

their eyes. His power was a tangible thing, an aura of quiet menace that demanded submission. His name was a weapon, whispered in the darkest corners of

my hu

and landed on me. Relief flickered across his face, but it

hat must have drained from my face. He di

not of comfort. They

re?" he asked, his voi

face I had loved, the fa

ing the corridor, checking for threat

e anyone? Did you

naging a crisis. The lie was exposed, and his only instinct was to contain the damage. The gui

rip firm, proprietary. The o

e what

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