Saved By The Ruthless Rival Don

For nine years, I was the perfect mafia wife. I laundered Marcus Thorne’s money through my design firm, smiled at his dinners, and ignored the lipstick stains on his collars.

I believed in the Omertà of our marriage. I thought my loyalty was my armor.

I was wrong.

On the night of our anniversary gala, a car lost control and barreled straight toward us in the parking lot.

Marcus didn't look at me. Not once.

He lunged for his mistress, Izzy, tackling her to safety behind a concrete pillar.

I was left standing in the open.