I Gave Him Seven Years, He Gave Me a Coffin Instead of a Child

When I got pregnant, my husband fell for the young, delicate courier he'd brought into his crew.

On New Year's Eve, he and that courier, draped in a red gown, were celebrating the holiday in a private room at one of the Family's clubs, raising glasses to "good fortune."

When I barged in, she lifted her pale neck, the red marks blooming dark against her throat.

"Don't misunderstand us, Mrs. Moretti! The New Year's coming, and I'm just helping Lorenzo shake off the bad luck and bring in the good!"

My husband fixed me with a look and snarled that I'd interrupted him.