Return of the Queen: He Chose His Mistress Over My Son

Chapter 3

Word Count: 608 | Released on: 02/06/2026

wn next to Leo, gently taking

t the angry shape of fingers was stil

to attend to," I murmured, bru

y with Daddy?" he asked,

is broken," I promised h

before I rose from the sofa. I walked to my private study, the

ulled out a burner phone, and dialed a

y. "Clara?" Her voice w

nts," I instructe

g pipelines for the Syn

nsider it done." I heard the r

arter," I added, my eyes fixed on the sprawling estate grounds

minutes," M

my heart beating a frantic, ir

r. "The money was siphoned into a sh

asked, my grip tightening

i," Mia read t

fying certainty

king the most sacred law of Omerta. He w

nd it to my secure serve

other number. Vincenzo,

t and gravelly, bearing the w

econd. "Retrieve the documents my father entrusted to

a heavy mantle. The word-Donna-had not been spoken in reference to me in four year

held the power button. As it came to life, the scree

ranco is furious with you. Do no

a scoff and walked over to

heavy steel wall safe, and

I reached inside and pulled

x crest of the

cy in my hands, feeling

tching Franco wear a crown that belonged to me. The weight in my hands was not just paper-it was the reckonin

Chapter End

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Return of the Queen: He Chose His Mistress Over My Son

Our Time Mafia

“My five-year-old son stumbled into the hall, his cheek marred by the livid, blistering print of a hand. My phone buzzed with a message from my husband's mistress, warning me to teach my brat some manners before she taught him a real lesson. Franco Moretti, my husband and the acting Boss of the Romano Syndicate, had allowed his mistress to strike the heir to our empire. When I confronted him, he dismissed the assault as a mere reflex and demanded I stop being dramatic. The silence that followed was heavy and cold. I realized then that my years of playing the docile, obedient wife had only invited disrespect upon my own blood. My mother-in-law echoed his coldness, telling me to look the other way for the sake of peace, as if my son's pain were merely a trifle to be ignored. I looked at Leo, his small shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, and felt something ancient and hard wake up within me. The man I had married-the predator who ruled Chicago with an iron fist-believed I was weak, a shadow that existed only to serve his crown. He had mistaken my silence for stupidity and my restraint for submission. I stared at the countdown on my phone, the numbers marking the final moments of my long, hollow marriage. I had spent four years playing the role of a placid wife, but the script had dissolved the moment his mistress touched my child. I tapped the screen, silenced my alarm, and ended the call. The time for talk was over; the vendetta had begun.”