No Tears For My Cold Mafia Husband

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband walked out the door.

Not for business. For her.

I left the divorce papers on the table, my wedding ring next to his untouched champagne, and I disappeared into the night.

For a year, I watched Dominic Rossi—the ruthless Underboss of the New York syndicate—drop everything the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless night. A lie. I was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish, but I was never his priority.

So I chose myself.