Unwanted Wife: The Mafia Boss's Regret

I warmed the Underboss’s bed for five years, only to be discarded the moment my twin sister returned.

Haleigh claimed she was dying of terminal cancer.

She was the golden child, the tragic heroine. I was just Bailey—the spare, the placeholder, the glitch in their perfect reunion.

To secure her place, Haleigh framed me with a venomous spider and a deepfake video, turning the men I loved into my executioners.

My own brothers whipped me in the basement while Jameson watched in cold silence.

When I caught fire on the family yacht, they ignored my screams to tend to Haleigh’s scratched knee.

The final blow came on the cliffs of Dead Man’s Drop.

Accusing me of pushing her, Jameson ordered my brother to dangle me over the raging ocean by my ankles to "teach me a lesson."

They waited for me to beg for my life.

Instead, I pulled a switchblade from my boot.

I didn't cut my brother. I cut my own laces.

I plummeted into the icy black water without a sound, choosing death over their cruelty.

It wasn't until they found my hidden diary—and proof that Haleigh never had cancer—that the monsters realized what they had done.

Now Jameson is tearing the world apart to find his "innocent" Bailey.

But he’s looking for a ghost.

The woman who loved him died the moment she hit the water.

Chapter 1

Bailey POV

I watched the man who had shared my bed for five years slip the Douglas family ring onto my twin sister's finger.

The moment my phone buzzed against my hip—confirming the transfer of my entire life savings to an offshore account—I knew the clock had started.

I had exactly sixty minutes to vanish before the most dangerous men in New York realized their sacrificial lamb had just bought a ticket to freedom.

Jameson Blair stood at the altar of the City Clerk's office.

He looked ruinously handsome in his charcoal suit.

It was the same suit he had worn to bury his father last month.

He was the Underboss of the Blair syndicate, the man who controlled the docks, the unions, and until five minutes ago, my heart.

Now, he was Haleigh's husband.

I stood across the street, hidden by the awning of a coffee shop.

Rain slicked the pavement of New York City, matching the cold dampness settling deep in my bones.

Haleigh looked radiant in white.

She didn't look like a woman dying of terminal cancer.

That was the lie she told to come home.

That was the lie that made Jameson push me out of the penthouse I had decorated.

That was the lie that made my brothers, the terrifying Douglas Capos, welcome their golden child back with open arms.

I was just Bailey.

The spare.

The placeholder.

For five years, I had warmed Jameson's bed while Haleigh played rebel in Europe.

I had smoothed over the political cracks between our families.

I had kept the peace.

Jameson turned his head, his gaze