Her Mafia Husband Rejected Her on Their Anniversary — Until She Walked Into His Enemy's Party With the Secret Ledger

He said it at 8:17 PM that night inside his study, with the glittering Chicago skyline glowing beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Dominic did not shout. He didn’t throw his expensive whiskey against the wall. The thirty-two-year-old mafia boss simply stood behind his mahogany desk, terrifyingly cold and controlled, and delivered the sentence like he was closing a boring business deal.

"I don’t want you as my wife, Claire," Dominic stated smoothly. "I never did."

For one agonizing second, I almost cried. Then I remembered my father had already taught me exactly what tears were worth when he used my life to settle his gambling debts. My mother’s death had left me raising my younger brother, Noah. Dominic’s brutal syndicate had bought my father’s debt from men far less patient than they were. The arrangement was simple: my father stayed alive, Noah stayed untouched, and I became Dominic Russo’s property.

For eight months, we lived inside the same massive Lake Forest mansion like two ghosts occupying neighboring countries. He slept in the study. I slept alone in the master suite.

But tonight was our eight-month anniversary. For reasons I still could not explain, I had decided to try. I set the dining table for two with good china, linen napkins, and the exact wine he liked. No roses. Roses would have made my hope look pathetic. Dominic came home an hour late, looked at the table, and immediately turned toward the stairs, claiming he had work.

I followed him into the study. I demanded to know if he ever wanted me at all. His answer broke the final chain holding my heart hostage.

I nodded once, walked upstairs, and bypassed the respectable, boring gray dresses he preferred. I pulled out the stunning, scandalous red silk dress he had once commanded me to burn. I put it on. I called my best friend, got an address, and twenty minutes later, I was stepping into a Lincoln Park mansion owned by Adrian Cross—Dominic’s most lethal, bloodthirsty enemy.

Every conversation in the ballroom instantly stopped as I walked in. Across the room, Adrian slowly raised his crystal glass toward me with a dangerous smile.