In the middle of the night, my husband started talking in his sleep. "My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow."

But we were using protection. Where the hell did a kid come from?

So I opened his phone. I saw the money transfers to another woman—spent on all kinds of luxury shit and a house.

The photo album had pictures of her in a skimpy stripper outfit, a little bump in her belly.

The last one was an ultrasound. Four months along, it looked like.

I didn't make a sound. Just saved the evidence.

They were about to learn the price of betraying a mafia princess.

I trusted my husband of three years. Completely. Until he muttered in his sleep, "My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow."

That's when I knew. He wasn't just cheating. He had a bastard on the way.

In the darkness, I made a vow. This heartless man was going to pay.

It was 3 AM.

Vincent mumbled something in his sleep. I was about to roll over, but then I made out the words.

"My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow."

I was wide awake.

What new house? What little treasure? We didn't have kids. For three years, he’d said he wanted to focus on his career, kept putting it off.

A sliver of moonlight cut through the curtains, landing on Vincent’s face. He was sleeping soundly, a satisfied smile on his lips.

I quietly reached for his phone.

My thumb unlocked it. He never hid anything from me, which made what I found next a special kind of hell.

I went straight to his bank transfers.

Recipient: Carmen Rodriguez. Amount: $800,000. Memo: Deposit for the villa.

My hand started to shake.

It wasn’t just rage. It was a surge of adrenaline. A thrill, even. The kind you get when your body reacts before your brain can, knowing your life is about to blow up.

I searched "Carmen" in his contacts and pulled up her social media.

First post: an ultrasound photo. Caption: "My little angel, four months along."

Second post: a brand-new Maserati, with a Hermès charm on the key. "Thanks to my man for the surprise."

Third post: A Bvlgari bracelet on her wrist—worth $150,000. The same one Vincent told me he’d bought as a "client gift."

The irony was thick enough to choke on. When we got married, Vincent was just starting out. I didn't want to hurt his pride, so I was the one who suggested a small wedding. No fancy jewelry, nothing.

Back then, Vincent held my hand, tears in his eyes, and promised he’d make it up to me, ten times over, as soon as he made it.

Looks like he was making it up to another woman.

I kept scrolling.

Vacations by the sea, dinners at Michelin-star restaurants, first-class on a private jet. Every photo dripped with luxury. And the girl in them couldn't have been older than twenty-five, with tight skin and a killer body.

Her latest post, from 11 PM last night: "Movie night at home with my man. This is what happiness feels like."

At 11 PM last night, Vincent told me he was stuck at the office, handling an emergency.

I placed the phone back where I found it and walked into the living room to call my father's consigliere.

"Uncle Dante, it's me, Isabella."

"Princess? So late?"

"I need my father's help. Vincent betrayed me. And he betrayed the Family."

A short silence.

"What do you need?"

"A full rundown of all of Vincent's business dealings. Copies of every contract. And a complete background check on a Carmen Rodriguez. I want it all in my hands by sunrise."

"Done. Anything else?"

I glanced back at Vincent, sleeping soundly in our bedroom. My voice was so calm it scared me.

"Get the divorce papers ready. I want him to walk away with nothing."

After hanging up, I went back to the bedroom and lay down beside him. He rolled over and draped an arm over my waist, just like always.

But this time, everything was different.

I closed my eyes and started planning. Marconi women don't cry. We don't get hysterical. And we sure as hell don't forgive.

We get even.

And we make traitors pay a price they can't afford.

At dawn, I walked into the study and opened the safe only I knew the code to. Inside were all the confidential files on Vincent's business dealings—as his wife, I had access to everything.

I took a photo of every single document.

Game on.

"Honey, are you sure you want to go to the party tonight?" Vincent asked, fixing his tie. "If you're not feeling well, I can make your excuses."

"I'm fine," I said, applying lipstick in the mirror. "Besides, I want to see your new club. I hear you've got some new faces."

Vincent's hands paused for a second before he went back to his tie.

"Nothing special. Just some new staff."

"I heard a girl named Carmen is a real crowd-pleaser."

"I don't really keep track of names," he said, turning to kiss my cheek. "Come on, let's go. Don't sweat the small stuff."

In the car, I pushed a little more.

"Vincent, I was thinking we should buy a villa in Malibu. I hear the oceanfront properties are a great investment."

"Malibu?" His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "That's too far. The house we have is big enough."

"But I've seen so many of our friends buying property there. You can get a nice place with an ocean view for around eight hundred thousand."

Vincent almost slammed on the brakes.

"Eight hundred thousand? That's a very specific number. You been looking at a place already?"

"Just spitballing," I said, patting his hand with a smile. "Why so jumpy?"

"I'm not. I just don't think we need a house that big right now."

When we arrived at the nightclub, I told him I wanted a tour.

"It's just a club, Isabella. Nothing to see," Vincent tried to stop me.

"I'm the boss's wife, aren't I? Is it so strange for me to look at my own property?"

Vincent must have been afraid of making a scene, because he didn't argue.

In the hallway leading to the private booths, I saw her.

Carmen Rodriguez. Younger and prettier than in her photos. More brazen. She was wearing a tight red dress, her small baby bump obvious. The diamond bracelet sparkled on her wrist.

The one Vincent gave her.

"Vincent, that girl's bracelet is beautiful. Looks familiar, too."

"What bracelet? I didn't notice." He wouldn't even look in her direction.

"Why don't you introduce me? I'd love to meet our 'star employee'."

"Isabella, we should go," Vincent said, pulling at my arm, desperate to escape.

I wasn't about to let him off that easy.

I pulled my arm free and held out my hand to Carmen, a friendly smile on my face. "Hello, I'm Isabella Marconi. Vincent's wife."

Vincent had no choice but to force a stiff smile. "This is Carmen. She's one of our popular… dancers."

I saw the jealousy and bitterness in her eyes.

But she managed a tight smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Romano."

My gaze drifted down to her wrist, and I spoke casually. "That's a lovely bracelet. It suits you." I barely hid a smirk. On her salary, that bracelet would take her ten years to earn.

Carmen quickly tried to hide the bracelet with her other hand, her eyes darting toward Vincent. "Thank you, ma'am…"

Her acting skills needed work.

I pretended not to see the look they exchanged, then took his arm and glided away.

I could feel Carmen's eyes burning a hole in my back.

Good. Panic. Get angry. You'll only make more mistakes.

Midway through the party, I excused myself to the restroom.

As I passed the VIP lounge, I heard Carmen on the phone.

"The baby's healthy. The doctor said we'll see Daddy in five more months." She was rubbing her belly. "Vincent is so good to me. I just mentioned I wanted a necklace, and he said he'd give me the Marconi family necklace, hahaha… As soon as the baby's born, he's going to divorce that old woman. Then I'll be the real Mrs. Romano."

I pushed the door open.

When Carmen saw me, her face went white.

"Congratulations on the pregnancy," I said with a small smile. "The father must be thrilled."

"Yes…" her voice trembled.

"How lucky for you." I wasn't ready to show my hand yet; a little tap was enough to make her panic. "But a word of advice, Carmen. Smart girls know what's not theirs for the taking. You can want it all you like, but it will never be yours."

I turned and left her alone in the lounge.

Back home, while Vincent was in the shower, I snuck into his private office again.

Inside the safe, behind the cash and documents, was a small box.

It held the Marconi family diamond necklace—an heirloom I gave him when we married.

I held it up to the moonlight. The diamonds threw off a cold, hard light.

Vincent was planning to give my family's legacy to his mistress. This wasn't just a betrayal of me. It was an insult to the entire Marconi family.

I closed my hand around the necklace, feeling the sharp edges dig into my palm.

"You made the wrong choice, Vincent. And I won't give you the chance to regret it."

A few days later, Uncle Dante's call came right on schedule.

"Carmen Rodriguez. Twenty-four, immigrant from Mexico. Moved into a Malibu beachfront villa three months ago, valued at eight-fifty. Yesterday at 2 PM, Vincent was with her at St. Mary's for a prenatal check-up."

"What else?"

"I got security footage. Vincent putting the diamond necklace on her himself. In the hospital parking lot. They also kissed for seventeen minutes."

I hung up and looked at Vincent, still sound asleep. He looked so innocent, so trustworthy.

"Isabella? You're up early," he said, reaching for me.

I moved away. "Hitting the gym. Got an important business lunch today."

"With who?"

"A friend," I said, getting dressed. "I'll make you your favorite pasta for dinner tonight."

Vincent smiled. "I married the perfect wife."

Two hours later, I was in the VIP section of Lafey's Salon, the best place in the city to pick up high-society gossip.

"Isabella! It's been too long!" Sarah Wagner, the mayor's wife, walked over.

"Sarah, you're looking wonderful."

"Thank you. By the way, I heard Vincent's nightclub is doing great business."

"It's doing alright," I said, feigning indifference. "He's been so busy lately."

"Well, it's good for a man to be ambitious. But Isabella, there's something… I don't know if I should say anything—"

I looked up at her.

"I saw Vincent at Cartier with a very young girl. They seemed quite close. I was going to go say hello, but—"

"Oh, don't worry about it. She's probably a new employee. Vincent mentioned he was training someone for management."

Sarah looked like she wanted to say more, but she let it go.

At 3 PM, Uncle Dante sent me an audio file.

Carmen's voice was crystal clear. "Vincent says that old hag Isabella doesn't understand him at all. She's boring and dead in bed. Can't even give him a child."

Her friend sounded hesitant. "Really? But Isabella Marconi is a mafia princess. Her family's powerful."

"So what?" Carmen scoffed. "I have his child, she doesn't. The child is everything. Vincent said once our baby is born, he'll divorce her. Then I'll be the real Mrs. Romano, and I'll even get a piece of the Marconi family fortune."

"Vincent really said that?"

"Of course! Look at this diamond necklace. It's worth three million. He said it proves how much I mean to him. That boring old woman could never compete with me."

I turned off the recording and took three deep breaths.

Then I called my father's consigliere.

"Uncle Dante, I've changed my mind. I'm not waiting."

"What do you mean?"

"It starts tonight. I want his whole world to come crashing down."

"Are you sure? Once we start, there's no going back."

I looked at myself in the mirror. For three years, I had played the part of the docile, supportive wife. But there was nothing docile about the blood that ran through my veins.

"I'm sure. Put the word out to all our partners. Vincent Romano is no longer under Marconi protection."

"Understood. Anything else?"

"Tell my father his daughter is coming home."

After I hung up, I walked out of the salon. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the city.

But for some people, the night was just beginning.

And it was going to be a very long night.