When the Mafia Boss Returned with a Pregnant Mistress

It was our ninth wedding anniversary when Don Zachary came home with his pregnant mistress.

For nine years, he had treated me like the center of his world—white roses flown in from Sicily, my hand kissed before capos and underbosses, vows whispered like law. And now he stood beside another woman, her swollen belly displayed like a trophy.

“She’s delicate,” he said coolly. “No strong perfumes. No repeated meals. She needs someone nearby when she sleeps. Move your things to the east wing.”