Betrayed by the Husband, Protected by the Don

My husband of five years, Eric Vale, came home drunk again. As I laid him in our bed, he murmured, “Don’t worry, my love… I’ll take care of you and our baby.”

My heart stopped.

Baby? We’d been on birth control since the day we married. There was no baby.

I shook him lightly. “What are you talking about, Eric?”

He blinked at me, confused, then smiled like nothing had happened. “Hey, babe… did I say something?”

The next morning, I checked our joint account. Every month, ten thousand dollars had been wired to a woman named Bella Evers.

Yesterday, he sent two hundred thousand more—with a note: I can’t wait for our baby to be born.

Bella was Eric’s mistress and was now six months pregnant.

So I made one call.

“Papa,” I told the most feared Don in the South, “I’m getting a divorce.”

I glanced at my sleeping husband. “I want him gone. And I want him broke.”

Nerissa’s POV

My husband came home drunk and let it slip—his mistress, Bella, was pregnant. Then I discovered he’d been stealing from our joint account, sending her money every month like she was the real wife. I’m the daughter of the most feared mafia Don in the South. I don’t tolerate betrayal. So I called my father and said only one thing: “I want him gone. And I want him miserable.”

Papa exhaled on the other end of the line. “You say the word, Nerissa, and I’ll make him pay for what he did to you. I’ll make him kneel at your feet and beg for mercy. He’ll wish he were dead.”

After I hung up, I sat down on the sofa, staring at nothing.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it—anger, yes, but also something heavier. Maybe sadness or even disbelief.

Five years of marriage don’t just vanish in a single second. For a moment, I thought about waking Eric up, dragging him out of bed and forcing him to look me in the eye and explain.

But I was raised by my father—a man who just happens to be one of the most powerful mafia Dons in the South. He taught me not to confront when I can calculate, not to argue when I can end things cleanly. Confronting Eric would only give him room to lie—and give me room to hesitate.

My gaze drifted to the wedding photo in the living room. He was smiling. I was smiling.

Marrying Eric had never been part of my plan. We came from different worlds. But I believed in what we had, I believed in him. So I fought for us, I fought to build this small family together with his.

When he said he dreamed of owning his own casino, I made it happen. I pulled resources from my father’s side, quietly. I arranged funding through channels he never traced back to me. I let him believe he built everything with his own hands. I