Too Late To Beg: The Don's Regret

I was still bleeding into the mesh underwear the hospital gave me when the photos hit the internet: my husband, the Don, forcing his tongue down his mistress's throat.

Three days ago, that very mistress had shoved me off a yacht.

I lost the baby. I lost my uterus. I was left completely barren.

Yet, when my husband finally called, it wasn't to ask if I was alive.

"The press is eating us alive," Dante barked through the phone. "Send a gift basket to Sofia. Fix this mess."

To make matters worse, his grandmother stood at the foot of my bed, holding the hand of the daughter they had stolen…