"$30,000 transferred to Jennifer Scott."

The notification buzzed on my screen as my eyes were fixed on the electronic bank statement from Wilson Financial Group.

Being nine months pregnant with our child, it was difficult for me to witness how my husband Christopher Wilson, the ruthless boss of the Wilson Mafia family, had been transferring such a great amount to the same woman other than me every month for the last two years.

I wouldn't be lying if I said that the first transfer was from the same day when we lost our first child.

At that moment, another buzzing sound from my phone broke my trance. It was a message request on a secure mafia-only messenger app.

When I read the name, a shiver ran down my spine - Jennifer Scott.

"Jennifer Scott would like to connect."

Even a note was attached to it. "The woman who gets $30,000 in pocket money every month from your husband."

An unsettling feeling washed over me, while stroking my belly, I clicked 'accept'.

—

Immediately, I received a message.

'Did you get the bank statement?'

I rolled my eyes and ignored her words. The next moment, I tapped on her profile.

The earliest post on that account was from two years ago, the date - 18th April. In the image, she leaned on a man's shoulder. Undoubtedly he was Christopher.

My heart skipped a beat as I recognised the intricate embroidery on his shirt. I gifted it to him when he successfully broke an arms deal with the Russian Syndicate.

A bitter smile adorned my lips as my fingers touched the date, the 18th of April. It was the same day when I lost our first child while Christopher was supposed to be on a 'business trip' with her. The new revelation choked my breath.

With trembling fingers, I scrolled down her page. Since that day, she had been showcasing her expensive gifts – clothes, jewellery, even a luxury car. They were items that Christopher had given me too.

Eventually, a new post grabbed my attention. It was a rose-scented perfume.

Without delay, I stood up and picked up his clothes from the night before, the one which he wore during his late-night meeting. I lifted it to my nose and inhaled an unmistakable fragrance of rose. The fun part was I never wore perfume in my life.

Afterwards, I clicked on another post. It was a video of an ultrasound. Jennifer was pregnant.

Suddenly I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. The next moment, my phone dropped and I was barely able to breathe.

But before I could scroll down, some photos and videos flooded my inbox. I gathered some strength and fixed my eyes on the screen again.

The first picture showed Christopher, his expression stern and merciless, holding a gun. Meanwhile, Jennifer was standing behind him, leaning into his shoulder with a smirk, as if the world belonged to her.

The other pictures showcased a similar story—Christopher with her, both wrapped in the world of organised crime.

I knew that look in his eyes; it was the same one which he had when he used to deal with traitors, rivals, or anyone who crossed his path. But there he was, with her, not me.

I clicked on another video. It was taken at the docks, one of Christopher's high-security zones. His bodyguards, armed and in position, stood like statues around them. Jennifer's voice was soft as she asked, "Do you love me?"

However, my heart pounded after hearing Christopher's reply. "I'll always love you, Jennie."

Jennie. The name he used for her, was a nickname filled with the kind of warmth I hadn’t heard from him in years.

The man in the video—surrounded by his loyal guards, armed to the teeth—was not just a mafia boss, but a man hopelessly in love.

The mockery was the fact that he held those emotions for a woman other than his wife of seven years.

Tears poured out of the corner of my eyes as I replayed that video repeatedly. Soon, it was evening. I heard sharp footsteps echoing through the dim room. It was Christopher.

"Eva, Why are the lights off? Don't forget you're pregnant. What if you fall?" His voice was filled with a casual concern that felt like a mockery.

The moment he switched on the lights, his expression softened as he saw tears falling down my cheeks. Kneeling before me, he reached out and took my hand.

"What happened? Who made my wife and our future heir cry?" His voice was smooth, as if he didn't have another life, with another woman.

I swallowed hard, the scent of rose still clinging to him. "Where were you?" I asked, my voice low.

"At the office. You know how things have been lately," he said with a reassuring smile, brushing off my question like nothing was wrong.

"Liar," I thought, staring at him. [You were with Jennie, feeding her cravings for those famous chocolate pastries from the east side of the city. You drove over an hour for her. She even live-streamed it.]

I forced a smile, my hand resting on my belly. "Christopher, suddenly I have a craving for chocolate pastries from the east side, too," I said, feeling the baby kick harder. "Can you get some for me?"

His face tightened, the smile faltering. "Those pastries aren’t anything special, Eva. Besides, you’re in your last month. Watch what you eat." He stood up, brushing me off. "For the sake of our son, you need to be careful."

Without waiting for a response, he added further, "I’m exhausted. I’ll take a shower. If you’re hungry, call Mom. She can make you something."

In no time, the bathroom door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of our luxurious home. Tears burned my eyes, but I held them back, stroking my belly as the baby kicked again.

"It’s just you and me now, little one," I whispered. "And we’re about to fight a war."

Christopher's phone was buzzing constantly on the dining table. As usual, he was not even bothered to hide his affairs from me.

He was too arrogant to believe that I was naive to see through his lies.

'Did he think I was that fool?'

At that moment, the running water echoed from the luxurious suite of our bathroom. Christopher was taking his sweet time to take a bath.

Seeing his carelessness, I was running out of patience and eventually, I pushed myself up, struggling with my swollen belly.

The weight of our unborn child made even the simplest tasks an effort. Still, I wasn't able to stop myself.

With trembling fingers, I tried the usual passwords on his cellphone, our wedding anniversary, our birthdays. None of them worked.

My heart swelled in frustration until I remembered the date of Jennifer's ultrasound report. It was worth a try.

Success.

There was a mocking snort on my lips as my husband's phone unlocked. Without delay, I opened his messaging app. It wasn't a lie if I said Jennifer's profile picture was staring back at me.

It was a matching avatar which she shared with Christopher, my husband. Their exchange of flirtatious remarks dripped with affection.

"If love lasts forever," Christopher had written. "Does it matter if we're together every day?" To which Jennifer replied, "I miss you, darling!"

Seeing my husband, Christopher Wilson, the boss of the Wilson Mafia family writing those flirtatious remarks made me speechless.

My throat tightened but tried to maintain my composure. The next moment, my fingers hovered over the screen recording function. I activated it.

With one hand resting on my swollen belly, I checked his phone, taking evidence of everything. I wasn't just taking the evidence but was preparing for war.

The next moment, I opened his shopping app.

When my eyes fell on the order history, I took deep breaths. It was full of pregnancy supplements, luxury skincare, and expensive makeup—all delivered to the same address. Every gift, every gesture of care, sent to her.

Jennifer.

I took screenshots of the orders and sent everything to myself. Afterwards, I erased every trace of interference before locking the phone and setting it back on the table.

'I don't allow anyone to play with my life, not without consequences.'

While going back to the bedroom, I laid down in the same position. The betrayal weighed heavily on me, but the cold emptiness in my chest kept me determined.

I wasn't just a normal woman—- I was a Mafia queen, and no one, not even Christopher, would leave me in the shadows.

The creaking sound of the bathroom broke my trance. I saw through the cracked bedroom door as Christopher's phone rang.

After seeing the caller ID, his expression softened. He answered the call with a softness on his face. It was just reserved for one woman.

He gave a quick look towards the bedroom and went to the balcony, thinking that I wouldn't notice.

I was curious about what she would be saying. But I didn't need to hear her words, as Christopher's expression said it all. He was hers now, and that sealed his fate.

Tears poured at the edge of my eyes, I gripped the silk sheets beneath me, feeling the coolness of the air touching my skin.

At that moment Christopher's betrayal touched me again. After seven years of loyalty, I had become nothing but a pawn in his games.

A few moments later, he came tiptoeing back inside. Within seconds, his hand gently rested on my belly, his touch sickening me now.

He brushed the hair from my forehead, his voice dripping with deceit. "Darling, there’s an urgent meeting at the office. I need to go now," he said softly.

His gaze was fixed on me as if his eyes were searching mine for any sign of suspicion.

I just turned, looking directly into his eyes. The one whom I trusted once. "I'm not feeling well," I mumbled in a slow tone. "Can you stay?"

I was testing him for one last time. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but then his smile turned apologetic. "I can’t, sweetheart. This deal is important for the family. I’ll call my mother to come over."

The final thread of hope snapped.

"Drive safely," I muttered. My tone was cold and distant.

I kept looking at him dressed and leaving. But the moment the door closed, I stood up.

No more tears. No more waiting. My hand cradled my belly as I grabbed my phone and dialled a taxi.

"Blackwood Estates," I told the driver.

An undeniable smell of cigarette smoke and leather was lingering in the air. The face of the driver was quite mysterious and scary. I gathered my courage and gulped down my breath.

Meanwhile, he gave me a long look in the rearview mirror before igning the engine.

As the car sped through the streets, I saw a black SUV from my peripheral vision. It followed me. The air was tense, and the hair on my back stood up.

I leaned forward slightly. "Faster," I muttered, my fingers clenching around my phone.

The driver said nothing, but his foot pressed down harder on the gas. The engine roared as we tore through the city. The SUV matched our speed, its windows tinted black, moving like a predator stalking its prey.

"Shit," the driver hissed under his breath.

I turned to look behind us. The SUV had closed the distance, its front bumper nearly kissing our tail. "They’re following us."

Before I could comprehend the whole situation, I saw the unmistakable flash of muzzle fire.

A bullet pierced the back windshield with a loud crack. The driver turned in another direction, narrowly avoiding a collision as the car skidded onto a side street.

Then I realised that we were near Blackwood Estates, I spotted Christopher's sleek, black car pulling in. At that moment, I realized that that car was no longer following us.

My heart clenched, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Park behind those trees," I instructed, pulling out my phone once more.

Through the grainy lens, I saw Jennifer coming out, practically floating into my husband's arms.

She smiled up at him, and his expression softened. My blood ran cold as I recorded the scene. Christopher placed a possessive hand on her flat stomach, his thumb gently tracing circles as he leaned in to kiss her.

My grip tightened on my phone. This was the final proof I needed.

"Driver," I said, my voice like ice. "Follow that car."

The chase began. As we went through the winding streets, neon lights casting against shadows, I forced myself to breathe. My nails dug into the seat, leaving deep indentations, but the pain kept me grounded.

"Endure it," I muttered under my breath. "The pain will pass."

The chase ended at City Hospital. I scanned the QR code to pay, my movements were mechanical, detached from the rage brewing inside me.

The driver glanced at me as I stepped out. His voice broke through the tension, unexpectedly gentle. "Miss, take care of yourself. For your baby."

I turned and met his words worried gaze, offering a small, cold smile. "Don’t worry. No one can hurt me anymore."

My fingers clenched around my phone. "Because I’m ready to throw the trash where it belongs."

And this time, there would be no turning back. I kept hidden behind a pillar there. My eyes never left Christopher. He was moving through the hospital lobby.

I still remember how he used to be so busy with every prenatal checkup with me since the first month of my pregnancy.

But now, everything seems different. He was walking around the hospital and registering for an appointment. From the medications to staying aside Jennifer, he was acting like the perfect husband.

But the irony– not for his wife but for another woman.

The men in black, most probably his bodyguards surrounded him from both sides. They were keeping a keen gaze on every movement happening around them.

Christopher wasn’t just an ordinary man; he was a mafia boss, and this kind of protection came with the territory.

But after seeing him now, it was clear to me that it wasn't his "work" that had kept him away from me. He simply didn’t want to make an effort for me. The woman he’d been married to, for seven years.

As I kept standing in the dark, Christopher wrapped his arm around Jennifer. He was pulling him closer.

His voice was soft, and intimate, like the man I thought I once knew. "The doctor said you should eat less tonight and try to stay active. In the early stages of pregnancy, digestion can be tricky, so let’s follow the advice this time, okay?"

She pouted playfully. It showcased a stark contrast to the serious aura surrounding Christopher's bodyguards. "Aww, fine, I got it! But it's your fault. You bought way too many pastries."

The next moment, he chuckled, his usual stern expression melted away as he leaned in closer.

"Alright, alright, I’ll take the blame. It’s my fault for making my sweetheart eat too much, okay?"

"That’s better," she smirked. "Fine, I’ll forgive you... this time."

As they kept on talking, his men remained alert. Their eyes were scanning every person that passed by.

Meanwhile, I stood under the harsh fluorescent lights, feeling like an intruder in my own life. I was just an invisible ghost standing there. Once it was the world that belonged to me.

My heart accelerated with the highest speed. My breath hitched as slowly I stepped outside of the hospital premises. Although my swollen belly was aching with every step, my husband's betrayal weighed more.

However, the rain was heavily pouring outside as if it could mirror down the pain with whom my heart was beating.

Through the rain and the mist, I saw that Christopher was draping his coat over her shoulders, shielding her from the downpour.

The next moment, she smiled up at him, pulling on his tie and drawing him in for a kiss. He responded immediately, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her deeply, completely lost in the moment.

As they stood there, a cold, calculated rage built up inside me. I wasn't able to breathe as I saw my husband showering with love for another woman. It was love that he had denied me for so long.

I raised my hand slowly, then a striking sound echoed through the rain.

BANG!