The Mafia Boss Asked His Wife to Tell His Mistress Their Marriage Was Already Over—But She Refused to Give Him the One Lie He Needed

By 6:00 PM, the sky over the city was bruised purple with the threat of rain.

I stood in front of my bedroom mirror.

Hanging on the door was the blue dress Gabriel had asked me to wear. It was silk, elegant, designed to make a woman look delicate and fragile.

I took it off the hanger and dropped it into the trash can.

Instead, I pulled a tailored black wool suit from the back of my closet. I paired it with a silk emerald blouse. I clasped my grandmother’s diamond bracelet around my wrist. I didn't look like a grieving wife. I looked like a CEO. I looked like a Falcone.

I opened my jewelry box and took out the last piece I needed.

A heavy, gold pocket watch.

It had belonged to my father, Vincenzo Falcone. When Gabriel and I married, my father had handed it to Gabriel. Take care of my daughter, he had said. Or I will take back everything I gave you.

My father was dead, but his friends were not.

I put the watch in my purse.

I drove myself to the Grand Hotel. The valet opened my door, his eyes widening slightly at my black suit. "Mrs. DeLuca. Good evening."

"Good evening, Marcus," I said.

I took the elevator to the private penthouse dining room. The doors opened to a lavish setup. Crystal chandeliers, heavy velvet curtains, a mahogany table set for ten.

Gabriel was already there.

He was standing by the window, speaking in hushed tones to his lawyer, David. When he heard the elevator ding, he turned.

His eyes swept over my black suit, lingering on my wrist where my grandmother's bracelet caught the light. His confident smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

"Caroline," he said, stepping forward. "You didn't wear the dress."

"It didn't fit anymore," I said lightly.

David the lawyer cleared his throat. "Mrs. DeLuca. You look well."

"Let’s skip the pleasantries, David," I said, setting my purse on the table. "Where is my daughter?"

"Elena is running late," Gabriel said. He checked his watch. "The others will be here soon. But I thought it would be best if you and I signed the final paperwork before dinner. To keep things clean."

He snapped his fingers. David opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick stack of legal documents. He laid a gold pen on top of them.

"It’s a very generous settlement, Caroline," David said smoothly. "Gabriel is making sure you keep the house in Maine, a monthly stipend, and full health coverage. In exchange, you simply acknowledge the transfer of the waterfront properties to the holding trust."

I looked at the documents.

"And my daughter?" I asked. "What does she get?"

"Elena is taken care of," Gabriel said quickly. "Just sign, Carrie. Let’s make this painless."

"Painless for who, Gabriel?" I asked. I picked up the gold pen. I didn't look at the paper. I looked directly into his eyes. "Painless for you? Or painless for Thomas Vance?"

Gabriel stopped breathing.

The silence in the room was so heavy I could hear the rain beginning to lash against the windows.

David looked frantically between us. "Gabriel?"

"Leave us," Gabriel told the lawyer, his voice a gravelly whisper.

"Gabriel, the signatures—"

"I said get out!" Gabriel roared.

David practically ran to the elevator. The doors slid shut, leaving us alone.

Gabriel took a slow, menacing step toward me. The civilized mask was gone. The monster underneath had finally surfaced.

"You went into my lockbox," he said.

"I did."

"You have no idea what you've done, Caroline."

"I know exactly what I've done," I replied. I reached into my purse and pulled out my father’s gold pocket watch. I placed it gently on the table. "I know about Isabel Rossi. I know about the son you've hidden for fifteen years. And I know what you did to Michael."

Gabriel’s eyes locked onto the pocket watch. His face drained of color.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, Carrie," he warned.

"I'm not playing," I said softly.

The elevator dinged behind him.

The doors opened, and Elena walked out. But she wasn't alone.