You Said Die Quietly, So I Did

The doctor told me I had thirty days to live. Exactly ten minutes later, my husband told me his mistress was pregnant.

I sat in the cold marble living room of the Vitiello estate, watching Dante pace. He was the Capo of Chicago, the man I used to stitch up in a bathroom when we had nothing.

Now, he looked at me with dead eyes.

"Sienna is moving in," he said casually. "She carries the heir. You will raise him."

He treated the destruction of our marriage like a business arrangement.