The Jilted Bride Marries The Ruthless Capo

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone.

The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé.

A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed."

Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt.

My heart didn't break; it simply stopped.

For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him.