Too Late: The Don Begs Forgiveness

I placed the divorce papers on the mahogany desk, ending five years of being the perfect, silent wife to the most ruthless Don in Chicago.

He didn't sign them. Instead, Kaden Barnes looked at me with cold, reptilian eyes and named his price for my freedom.

"Thirty lashes," he said. "The discipline of a traitor."

I accepted. I let his enforcer shred my back until I was dragging myself across the gravel driveway in a pool of my own crimson.

But as I crawled toward the exit, I heard him laughing with his mistress, Brittaney.