*The Mafia Boss Brought His Mistress Into His Wife’s Home—Then Asked Her to Prepare a Room for the Woman He Loved

The silver watch felt heavy and cold in my palm.

Vincent stopped in the doorway of the study, his eyes fixed on the antique timepiece. For twenty-eight years, I had believed my father had died penniless, his watch sold to cover medical debts.

"He owed the Marinos," Vincent said quietly. "Your father had a gambling problem, Claire. He borrowed heavily from Carlo's father. When he couldn't pay, they were going to kill him. I gave them the watch as a symbol of my debt. I assumed his debt to save his life."

"And you never told me."

"I protected you from the shame."

"You protected your pride," I corrected him. I looked at the engraving again. "This watch means the Marinos owned you. They always have. You didn't trade Mia to stop a war. You traded her to finally pay off my father's debt."

Vincent’s jaw tightened. "I did what I had to do for this family."

"You don't have a family anymore," I said.

I looked closer at the safe. Tucked beneath the velvet lining where the watch had rested, I saw the edge of a white envelope. I pulled it out and tore it open.

Inside was a single, first-class plane ticket to Palermo, Italy.

The departure time was 2:00 AM. Tonight.

The name on the ticket was Vincent Romano. There was no ticket for me. And there was no ticket for Natalie.

I held the ticket up. Natalie, who had followed us into the study, let out a broken gasp.

"You're leaving," Natalie whispered, her eyes wide with betrayal. "You traded Mia, you used me as a decoy, and you're fleeing the country."

"Carlo won't honor the deal," Vincent said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion now. The mask was fully secured. "He has his son, but he'll still come for my territory. Chicago is lost. I have to go."

"And us?" I asked.

"You're clean, Claire. You were never involved in the business. Carlo won't touch you. And Natalie..." He looked at his mistress. "Your brother will welcome you back."

He walked toward the desk to grab his keys.

"I'm leaving in five minutes. Do not follow me."

He turned his back on us.

It was the mistake he had made our entire marriage. He always assumed I was simply part of the furniture.

A loud, sharp click echoed in the study.

Vincent froze. He slowly turned around.

Natalie was standing in the doorway, her hands trembling, but her grip steady on the black handgun she had pulled from her overnight bag. It was aimed directly at Vincent's chest.

"You aren't going anywhere," Natalie said.

But I wasn't looking at the gun. I was looking at Vincent’s coat pocket.

As he had turned, a piece of gold jewelry had slipped from his pocket and clattered onto the hardwood floor.

It was a delicate gold bracelet with a charm shaped like a star. It was broken at the clasp.