His Greatest Loss: The Mafia Bride Who Never Looked Back

For five years, I was the perfect, silent fiancée to the most feared Underboss in the Cosa Nostra.

On the eve of our wedding, I opened his sacred syndicate ledger and found a painstakingly detailed log of my best friend, Serena.

He tracked the exact phases of her menstrual cycle and her preferred brand of imported painkillers.

Yet just last month, when I was doubled over on the bathroom floor in agony, he refused to go to the pharmacy for me.

"An Underboss does not run mundane errands," he had told me with flat, incurious eyes.