From Mafia Wife To Free Woman

For three years, I've been the wife of Dante Moretti, the head of the Chicago Bratva. My only purpose was to give him an heir. Today, I stared at the second pink line on a pregnancy test—a death sentence.

But my husband didn't want a wife. He wanted a vessel.

Hiding outside his office door, I heard him talking to his sister, Isabella. They were placing a million-dollar bet on the gender of my unborn child.

"But what about her?" Isabella asked. "Once she gives you the heir, she’ll be useless."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.