/1/107488/coverorgin.jpg?v=1135e339a96413279778f27ad7d858e6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I was sitting in the obstetrics clinic, rubbing my four-month bump, when a livestream popped up on my phone.
It was my husband, Xander, exchanging vows with my illegitimate half-sister, Rissa.
The caption read: "The Commission never ratified your marriage. You're just the incubator."
My husband and my father had sworn they were at a critical mafia sit-down. But there they were on the screen, laughing.
I called Xander. He answered, thinking he was slick, but he forgot to mute the room.
"Two more years of acting like a saint," I heard him sneer to his men. "Fucking her is a chore. But she's worth fifty million in clean assets."
My marriage was void. My child was considered a bastard by the Mafia code.
When I confronted them later at the gala, Rissa threw herself to the ground, screaming that I attacked her.
Xander shoved me. Hard.
I hit the table, and as blood trickled down my legs, he didn't even look at me. He scooped Rissa up and stepped over my bleeding body like I was trash.
They froze my accounts. They hunted me down to a cheap motel, planning to kill me once I signed over the trust fund.
I was cornered by a mob in a dirty clinic, waiting for the final blow.
But it never came.
A hand caught the metal chair mid-air.
Killian Qiro, the most dangerous man in Chicago, stood over me.
"Who dares?" he growled, his eyes dark with lethal promise. "Who dares call a Qiro child a bastard?"
He picked me up from the dirt.
"Xander is a dead man walking," he whispered against my hair. "He just doesn't know it yet."
Chapter 1
Nessa POV
I was sitting in the oppressively sterile waiting room of the obstetrics clinic, absently rubbing my four-month bump, when a video message from an unknown number landed in my inbox.
It was a livestream of my husband and my sister exchanging vows at the altar I had paid for.
The caption read: The Commission never ratified your marriage, Principessa. You're just the incubator.
My phone slipped from my sweaty palm and clattered onto the linoleum floor.
The sound was like a gunshot in the hushed room.
A nurse looked up, startled.
"Mrs. Vane? The doctor is ready for you."
Mrs. Vane.
The name tasted like ash in my mouth.
I bent down to retrieve the phone, my fingers trembling so hard I could barely grip the sleek metal.
On the screen, the video had paused.
Xander Vane-the man who had supposedly saved me from a break-in two years ago, the man who washed my hair when I was tired-was kissing Rissa.
Rissa. My illegitimate half-sister. The woman who had always looked at my life with a hunger that unsettled me.
I stood up, my legs feeling like they were made of water.
"I have to go," I whispered to the nurse.
"But the ultrasound... your husband said he was on his way," she stammered.
"My husband is busy," I said, my voice sounding hollow, foreign to my own ears. "He has family business."
I walked out of the clinic and into the humid Chicago afternoon.
My car was waiting, but I didn't get in. I needed to walk. I needed the noise of the city to drown out the ringing in my ears.
Xander and my father, Salvo Lino, had promised to be here today.
Salvo, a high-ranking Capo in the Outfit, had sworn on my mother's grave he would never miss a milestone for his first grandchild.
"Family first, Nessa," Salvo always said.
Lies.
I looked at my phone again. The anonymous sender had sent a second file.
It was a document. A scan of a marriage license.
Groom: Xander Vane. Bride: Clarissa 'Rissa' Lino.
Date: Two years ago.
Before he married me.
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. People bumped into me, grumbling, but I was frozen.
If he was already married to Rissa, then my marriage... our vows...
Void.
/1/106278/coverorgin.jpg?v=e0e09f38238b46dffc9cfe664c4f6365&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/88299/coverorgin.jpg?v=c2845eca1ae245b072bda195af8237ba&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/90537/coverorgin.jpg?v=6368dfc621004ffd894efa88aeee0c82&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/70377/coverorgin.jpg?v=9512785ae635dfa75570d488ebe56fe4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81054/coverorgin.jpg?v=557aa4e32cddbe007cc03a48718354d7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82686/coverorgin.jpg?v=6366a5deea9ed72daac37d201ef85555&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82822/coverorgin.jpg?v=cfb4a7a74f80c161ff5508d76f70b6e8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83807/coverorgin.jpg?v=0316212b3b89ac2c7c435a90829539cc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/23534/coverorgin.jpg?v=d1e40e2bf9977e8c970364e3493b970e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/73032/coverorgin.jpg?v=4254d95cdd4b77bb8b04fde6e40b5153&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86229/coverorgin.jpg?v=8b5d8c89fa4d6330f05c2ed75b05101a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82665/coverorgin.jpg?v=1402ae44c0524538430a9019578667b0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/38034/coverorgin.jpg?v=b9508021ae34ec998357fdf6412729a5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/77889/coverorgin.jpg?v=9e66b287323d738c8d25d052e6366a0b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/75506/coverorgin.jpg?v=3307efca2aedd23c383096282898ed2c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79876/coverorgin.jpg?v=1fa62cb2edc7041f309b0ed184707175&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84167/coverorgin.jpg?v=40eca6810e8d745a6ee5d03125090814&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/59027/coverorgin.jpg?v=cf1ab6e89ceb55ca0999a7a5e68f1a1d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/61120/coverorgin.jpg?v=25c428f24f02b46e34138eb4a29a0e18&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/51509/coverorgin.jpg?v=52e4aade234ccf90ce9123085eea3163&imageMogr2/format/webp)