He Faked Death, I Married The Don

I was arranging white lilies on the cold marble of my husband's grave when I saw a ghost.

Walking through the cemetery gates was a man who looked exactly like my dead husband, Dante.

Logic said it was his twin brother, Matteo. But a wife knows the slope of a man's shoulders. She knows the arrogant tilt of his chin.

My husband hadn't been blown up in a car bomb three years ago.

He had faked his death to steal his brother's rank, his fortune, and his mistress.

For three years, I had forced our son, Leo, to kiss a photograph goodnight.