The Mafia King's Unwanted Pregnant Wife

While I was pregnant, my husband held a party downstairs for another woman's son.

Through a hidden mental link, I overheard my husband, Don Dante Rossi, tell his consigliere he was going to publicly reject me tomorrow. He planned to make his mistress, Serena, his new mate.

An act forbidden by ancient law while I carried his heir.

Later, Serena cornered me, her smile venomous. When Dante appeared, she shrieked, clawing her own arm and blaming me for the attack.

Dante didn’t even look at me. He snarled a command that froze my body and stole my voice, ordering me from his sight as he cradled her.

He moved her and her son into our master suite. I was demoted to the guest room at the end of the hall.

Passing her open door, I saw him rocking her baby, humming the lullaby my own mother used to sing to me.

I heard him promise her, “Soon, my love. I’ll sever the bond and give you the life you deserve.”

The love I felt for him, the power I’d hidden for four years to protect his fragile ego, all turned to ice.

He thought I was a weak, powerless wife he could discard. He was about to find out that the woman he betrayed was Alessia De Luca, princess of the most powerful family on the continent.

And I was finally going home.

Chapter 1

Alessia POV:

During my pregnancy, my husband had an affair with another woman.

My hand trembled, the glass of water sloshing over the rim and onto my fingers. Cold. It was a sharp, unwelcome sensation against my skin. I set the glass down on the marble countertop, my breath catching in my throat.

From the grand hall below, the sound of celebration drifted up—a swell of laughter and applause for a child that was not mine, for a woman who was not me.

A voice, warm and familiar, echoed in the quiet corners of my mind. It was my mother, Sofia, her consciousness reaching for mine across hundreds of miles. The mental link, a gift of the De Luca bloodline, was a silver thread connecting us.

*Alessia, my child. What is happening?*

I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window. I could see the party spilling out onto the lawn, torches lighting up the manicured gardens of the Rossi estate. Dante’s estate. My home.

*He’s holding a ceremony,* I sent back, my thoughts a painful whisper. *For her. For Serena’s son.*

*He dares?* My mother’s thought was sharp, laced with the authority of the De Luca Matriarch. The Underworld knew her as the Silver Hand, a woman whose influence was as vast and deep as the ocean. The Rossi Family, in comparison, were new money, a loud and violent storm on the surface.

*He thinks it’s the son of a fallen soldier,* I explained, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. It was a convenient fiction Serena had