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I Will Make Him a Widower

Chapter 4 

Word Count: 1084    |    Released on: Today at 20:09

a's

ontorted, and with a grunt of pure

nforgiving corner of the grand piano. A dull, concussive shock radiated through my torso, dr

falling over me. "Look at your own failings in

looking up at him th

carry the curse of your bloodline. Your parents were assassinated because of your family's sins. You are

veins turned to ash. I stared at him in

as a physical sensation. I remembered the rival families whispering in the shadows. Th

n the dark and sworn those were superstitious lies. I remembered the day of the funeral, the rain soaking through his black suit as he wrapped

nomous words was weaponizing them. He was tearing ope

t tears tracked down my face, dropping ont

. A flicker of realization crossed his face, as i

losing some of it

he said coldly. "Mourning over spill

e, who was peeking out

one resuming its authoritative command. "Clean up this

with a pure, una

turned and gently pat

nauseatingly tender. "Do you have the intelligenc

hispered, her finger

fe and walked her into his private study.

ck as I leaned against it for support. A fine grit of dust and ash coated my skin. I used my bare hands to painstakingly gather every

jagged spike of agony up my spine, but I forced myself to stand tall. I cast one final, dead-eyed look at the closed study door, a

uite at a luxury hotel downtown. Dante, my most fiercely lo

ignored the insistent vibration of my e

en did

hrough the speaker, vibr

masters are locked out of every single offshore account! My surveillance pr

ng heavy over the line. "Do you want our daughter's killers

augh. The sound was entirely

r, Julian?" I asked softly, my voice lik

ly silence stre

mate threat. "Or I will demand a divorce in front of the High Commission and officiall

I heard Chloe's fra

was loud enough for me to hear. "I'll let her beat me or punish me

orce," I stated coldly, cutt

, triumphant breath, e

his arrogance returning. "Stop your irrat

t another word, tossing th

el room. He actually thought I had refus

e to play house with his whore. In La Cosa Nost

make him a

ake him a

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I Will Make Him a Widower
I Will Make Him a Widower
“I was washing the caked blood from my five-year-old daughter's broken body in the family mortuary. She had been tortured to death by a rival cartel. My husband Julian, the underworld's legendary "Master of Whispers," claimed his intelligence division did everything they could, but the rescue coordinates were wrong. Yet, while I stood over our child's corpse, he was busy comforting his new apprentice, Chloe. She posted a picture of their intertwined hands online, bragging that she had "accidentally deleted a crucial audio file" yesterday, but the boss had held her hand and forgiven her. Yesterday. The exact day my daughter died. When I confronted him, Julian slapped me across the face in front of our men. "You carry the curse of your bloodline! You are an omen of death! You brought this on her!" He blamed me for our child's slaughter, demanding I apologize to his mistress, while he secretly wiped the server logs to protect the incompetent girl who got our daughter killed. He actually thought I would just swallow the grief, refusing a divorce because I still loved him, allowing him to use my family's immense wealth to play house with his whore. But he forgot one crucial detail. His legendary "God's Ear" was a total myth, a lie entirely powered by the secret algorithms I funded to cover up his permanent deafness. I calmly gathered the ashes of my daughter from the floor and picked up my phone. "Initiate an immediate withdrawal of all funds from Julian's division. Let them bleed."”