His 18-Year-Old Mistress Cost Him His Bride, His Heir, and His Mafia Empire

After the final fitting for my wedding gown, Salvatore Corleone reached across the seat with familiar tenderness and pulled the seat belt over me, clicking it into place.

"Tesoro, I've already seen you in the dress. I won't be at the ceremony."

I went still.

For a moment, I thought I'd misheard him.

"What do you mean?"

Salvatore smiled as if he were telling me something harmless, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"There's a girl I've taken a liking to. She's young, proud, and too stubborn to accept being kept in the shadows.