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 sweeping over the street.

For a second, his eyes locked on my figure in the shadows.

My breath hitched.

Those eyes used to look at me with heat, with possession.

Now, they were empty.

He looked right through me.

He didn't see Bailey.

He saw a ghost he wanted to forget.

The doors opened, and the entourage spilled out.

Derrick, Blake, and Kane flanked the couple.

My brothers.

They were large men, violent men who enforced the Douglas will with iron fists.

Now, they were laughing.

They were touching Haleigh's hair, her arms, treating her like porcelain.

They hadn't called me in three weeks.

Haleigh spotted me.

She stopped on the sidewalk and whispered something to Jameson.

He stiffened.

She pulled away from him and walked to the curb.

Traffic separated us, but her voice carried over the noise.

She didn't look sick.

She looked triumphant.

"Did you really think he loved you, Bailey?" she called out.

Her smile was sharp, predatory.

"Or did he just love that I left, and you have my face?"

The cruelty of it was precise.

It was a surgical strike.

Jameson walked up behind her, placing a hand on the small of her back.

It was a proprietary gesture.

He looked at me then.

"Haleigh, let's go," he said.

He called me Haleigh.

He looked right at me, the woman he had promised to marry once the territory lines were drawn, and he called me by her name.

He had erased me.

I wasn't Bailey Douglas anymore.

I wasn't his fiancée.

I was just a glitch in their perfect reunion.

Derrick stepped forward, checking his watch.

"Leave her," Derrick said, his voice rough. "She's just sulking because she lost her meal ticket."

Blake laughed.

Kane didn't even look at me.

They got into the waiting limousines.

The convoy pulled away, splashing dirty water onto the sidewalk.

I stood there until the taillights disappeared.

I reached into my pocket and touched the burner phone.

I had served my purpose.

I had prevented a war between the families by being the obedient substitute.

Now the real bride was back.

The treaty was sealed.

I was a loose end.

And in our world, loose ends got cut.

I turned around and hailed a taxi.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Sotheby's International Realty," I said.

My voice didn't shake.

I was done crying.

Jameson Blair was a ruthless man who broke bones and spirits for a living.

I had been foolish to think I was the exception.

I checked the time.

The clock was ticking on my life.

I wasn't going to wait for them to discard me completely.

I was going to sell the last thing I owned to the highest bidder, but this time, the price would be my freedom.