Chapter 1

My husband was the Don of New York, and for ten years, I was his perfect trophy wife. I designed his buildings, kept his secrets, and stood by his side as the envy of the city.

But the moment his mistress marched into my casino with a secret son, my decade of loyalty meant nothing.

The boy demanded my grandmother's bracelet-which was dangling from his wrist. When I reached to take back what was mine, Emilio didn't defend me.

He shoved me.

Hard.

I crashed backward into a wall of shattered glass. While I lay bleeding on the marble floor I had hand-picked, losing our unborn child, he didn't even look at me.

He was on his knees, wrapping his suit jacket around another woman's son to shield him from the debris.

In the hospital, the cruelty only worsened.

"It was an accident, Elana. Leo was scared."

He dismissed the death of our baby as collateral damage. He had given my family heirloom to his bastard child and chose them over me without hesitation.

I realized then that the Omertà-our sacred code of silence-was a lie. He had built a warm, loving shadow family while I was just a useful decoration waiting in a cold mansion.

He wanted to bury me in that life forever. So, I decided to give him a funeral.

I staged my suicide off the cliffs of the estate, letting the freezing ocean swallow Elana Thomas.

Now, everyone thinks the Don's wife is dead.

But in Zurich, a new woman named Elena is very much alive, and she's coming back to burn his empire to the ground.

Chapter 1

Elana POV:

The moment my husband shoved me into a wall of shattered glass to save another woman's child, I didn't just lose my baby.

I lost the decade of silence I'd sold my soul for.

There was no warning.

One second, I was the envy of New York, standing in the center of the Crimson Lotus Casino.

The next, I was bleeding out on the marble floor I had hand-picked in Italy, watching the man I worshipped turn his back on me.

It had started as the perfect night.

The kind of night that usually ends with champagne and sex, not ambulances and divorce lawyers.

I stood beneath the crystal chandelier, smoothing the silk of my emerald gown.

This building was my design.

Every arch, every pillar, every hidden exit had been drawn by my hand.

It was the ultimate legitimate facade for the Thomas crime family.

And I was the ultimate legitimate wife.

Emilio Thomas stood across the room.

He was conversing with a senator, but his dark eyes remained fixed on me.

He looked every inch a king.

He was the Capo dei Capi. The Boss of Bosses.

He had killed men with his bare hands for simply looking at me the wrong way.

Or so I thought.

The air shifted.

The heavy oak doors swung open-not for a guest, but for an intruder.

Hayden Cleveland walked in.

She wasn't wearing emerald silk.

She was wearing a dress that screamed for attention, towing a small boy by the hand.

The room went silent.

In our world, you don't interrupt the Don.

Hayden didn't care.

She marched straight up to Emilio.

She thrust the boy, Leo, toward him.

Then she whispered something in Emilio's ear.

I saw Emilio's face change.

The mask of the cold, calculated Don slipped.

He looked... panicked.

Then the boy shouted.

His voice was high and clear, cutting through the jazz music like a knife.

"Why did she steal my daddy?"

He pointed a small finger right at me.

The crowd gasped.

I froze.

My eyes traveled from his angry little face to his wrist.

There was a diamond bracelet dangling from his arm.

It was too big for him.

It was a custom piece.

The links were shaped like laurel leaves.

It was the twin to the necklace currently resting against my throat.

Emilio had told me the bracelet was lost in transit from the jeweler.

He lied.

He had given my family heirloom to a mistress's child.

The betrayal hit me harder than a bullet.

I didn't think.

I just moved.

I walked toward the boy.

I needed that bracelet.

It was mine. It belonged to my grandmother.

"Give that to me," I whispered, reaching out.

My hand was shaking.

The boy flinched.

Emilio reacted on instinct.

His instinct was to protect his blood.

He shoved me.

Hard.

He didn't check what was behind me.

I stumbled back in my heels.

My spine collided with the massive glass sculpture I had commissioned for the opening.

The crash was deafening.

Glass rained down like jagged hail.

I hit the floor.

Pain exploded in my lower back, but then a sharper, deeper cramp seized my abdomen.

I gasped, trying to breathe, but the air was thick with dust and shock.

I looked up.

Emilio wasn't looking at me.

He was on his knees, wrapping his suit jacket around the boy, shielding him from the debris.

"Leo, are you okay?" he asked frantically.

He didn't ask me.

He didn't look at the blood spreading across the white marble beneath my hips.

"Emilio," I choked out.

He didn't hear me.

Or he chose not to.

The guests were screaming now.

Someone shouted for a doctor.

I felt a warm, sticky wetness soaking my thighs.

I knew what it was.

I looked at the ceiling I had designed.

I realized then that Omertà-our sacred code of silence-was nothing but a joke.

He promised to protect me.

He promised I was the only one.

As the darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, I saw Hayden smiling.

Emilio was holding her son.

And I was dying on the floor, alone.