/0/98560/coverbig.jpg?v=a4b6d4b36eb404ef95f7682537d7f1b0)
s, a beautiful statue whose only purpose was to produ
introduced me to my replacement. He called her a "vessel," a
pending every night with her. The ultimate humiliation came at my birthday party. When a champagne
ily, the Underboss chose h
the glass. I was no longer just a failed wife. I was
. While he was distracted by his mistress's fake pregnancy, he unknowingly signed our d
pte
phin
De Luca crime family, told me I was barre
, whispered order. He controlled shipping routes, politicians, and the lives of thousands of men who had sworn fealty to his name. His hands, which had on
r world, had one
f our penthouse. We were in the family's private clinic, a sterile white room that smelled of antise
ect facade of our marriage, a strategic alliance between my family's old-world influence and the De Lucas' brutal power. I was a Vitali, bred for this role,
had
of shadows, had made his decree. Alessandro had one year to produce an heir, or he would forfei
he brought h
here I was polished, she was rough. Where I was restrained, she was wild. She wore e
ined, his eyes fixed on her, not me. "A temporary arrangemen
just a tool, a mean
set." I spent our fifth wedding anniversary alone in the cold, silen
n a warning from a rival family, a test of the De Luca defenses. I called Alessandro, my husband, my swor
among my crystal perfume bottles, was a tube of cheap, garish lipstick. The colo
y more proof, bu
re-in-training. His voice, usually so controlled, was thick with an infatuation I had never hea
Como villa, the sacred De Luca property that had been promised to me,
photos of them, laughing, touching, their bodies intertwined. Al
t crack; it began to freeze solid. I wasn't just a failed wif
couldn't just leave.

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