The Price of Betrayal

Half a month ago, I found out my husband, Vincent, was cheating on me.

I accidentally discovered an encrypted burner phone hidden in a secret compartment of his armored SUV.

Inside were dozens of explicit photos and countless graphic, flirtatious texts.

The other person was his hot chief secretary, Chloe.

The fairy tale was shattered by reality.

I looked at the positive pregnancy test in my hand and calmly threw it into the trash can.

I put the phone back exactly as I found it. That very day, I had my lawyer draft the divorce papers and signed my name, stroke by stroke.

I opened my phone and replied to an email:[Professor, I officially accept the invitation to the Zurich Institute.]

This time, I won't look back.

Today is my birthday dinner.

Vincent booked out the entire top-floor dome restaurant, the most luxurious spot in Manhattan.

Under the gaze of all our guests, he lavishly bought a private Caribbean island worth hundreds of millions at an auction, presenting the deed and a tiara studded with hundreds of crushed diamonds right in front of me.

The surrounding tycoons, socialites, and mafia higher-ups were all filled with envy.

"Mia, you're truly the luckiest woman in New York. The Don would even give his life for you, let alone these material things."

"Our Mia is beautiful and incredibly resourceful. She and the Don are a match made in heaven!"

A match made in heaven?

A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. If I hadn't found that phone, I would have thought so too.

Growing up on the streets of Brooklyn, used to gang shootouts and betrayals, I never trusted men's words, much less believed there could be true love in the Mafia.

Even with countless suited young mobsters courting me, I never wavered.

Until I met Vincent.

Unlike the roughness and explosive tempers of other mobsters, Vincent's love was like a gentle, deadly web.

He knew I severely lacked a sense of security, so he took the initiative to bring me into his inner circle.

He introduced me to all his trusted men, and even handed over the reins to some of the Family's legitimate businesses for me to manage.

He understood my pride, never interfered with my work, and would even wash the stench of blood off his hands after a shootout to personally cook me a steaming plate of spaghetti.

But I wasn't hooked so easily.

What truly made me fall for him, though, was that time in Sicily.

We were ambushed by a rival Family, trapped inside a leaking bulletproof car. Outside was a relentless hail of bullets.

Vincent had already lost a lot of blood, but he forcibly shielded me under his body, using his back to block the shrapnel from the explosion.

We were trapped in the rubble for twenty-four hours.

He saved the last sip of fresh water for me, leaning close to my ear and whispering, "Mia, as long as I have a