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Had it really only been three months? It felt longer. I never expected to fall for him but here we were. I have fallen in love with my husband. It was a rough start—an unexpected start—but somehow it had all worked out.
Everything between us happened so fast, and truthfully, our whole marriage started as leverage against my family. I had been his willing victim, seeing a way out for me and my best friend. Yes, he forced me down the aisle, but I wasn’t blind to the benefits of taking that walk. Protection from my uncle and grandmother.
I was the Ruthless King in both the financial business world and the criminal underworld. That’s what everyone called me. Ruthless King. Unforgiving King. Just ask my fucking wife who has been missing for the past three years and six months.
I owned every casino in New Jersey, except for one. That one belonged to my best friend, Cassio King.
Cassio King had been my best friend since we were kids. My allegiances were always with him, and his with me. His territory was New York, alongside the Italian and Irish mafia there. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him in bed with the Irish soon. Jack Callahan was a ruthless but fair motherfucker. He’d be a good ally. Cassio and Luca kept an eye on Margaret and Ainé, Callahan’s niece and stepdaughter. It would be interesting to see how that unfolded.
My father was the only person that firmly believed she was alive, and that she was innocent.
Alessandro Russo ran his shit in Canada, his headquarters in Montréal. His main illegitimate business focused on guns, as well as owning a few casinos. Nico Morrelli ran D.C. and Maryland. He mainly ran casinos and smuggled drugs with a real-estate business as a front. Cassio did a bit of it all and depended on me to clean his money.
“Never let anyone clip your wings, my baby.” “I won’t, Mom,” I promised.
The moment she had another man’s child, our marriage was history. No, the moment you pulled the trigger, your marriage was history.
Grace was The Ghost. My Ghost, my runner.
Self-hatred filled me as I remembered that day when I pressed the gun to her head. The snowflake on her long eyelashes, love and fear mixing in those eyes. I loved my wife, even back then.
“No one touches what’s mine. No one looks at what’s mine. And Grace is mine, you motherfucker.”
“You touch another man… and you sign his death sentence. I’ll kill any man that you touch.”
Three years ago, I told my husband I loved him. He sent me away. Today, he gave me those same words. Now, I would run away.
Grace never betrayed me. Matteo was mine. I hurt my wife and could have cost my son his life.
