All Chapters of My Sister’s Mafia Husband Begged When I Finally Left: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

More than a decade ago, our Rossi family was caught in a bloody turf war.My mother died protecting me, shielding me with her body from a bullet fired by a rival family. The .45 caliber round went straight through her heart.I lost her that day.A few years later, when I was fifteen, my father incurred a blood debt to the Falcone family over a failed drug deal, one he could never repay.Don Corrado approached my sister and me with an offer: a contract to repay our family's sins with our youth. It was our only chance to avoid being dumped in the Hudson River.And so, we were sent here, reduced to bargaining chips.Horton must have realized he'd gone too far. He shoved Luca out of the room and locked the door from the outside.He stalked back to me, roughly pulled me away from the wall, and threw me onto the bed. He used his thumb to crudely wipe the tears from my face."I thought you knew the rules," he said coldly, loosening his tie. "You don't lose your temper with the future Don. You

I had intended to go straight upstairs, but Horton looked up and saw me. His smile vanished."You're finally back. Luca waited two hours for his late-night snack.""I made him some little cookies and warm milk," Millie interjected innocently. "He said he liked them a lot."I glanced at the exquisite little treats on the coffee table, each one up to the standard of a five-star hotel.I stopped, turning wearily. My voice was lifeless. "It seems you've already handled it. I can give my recipes to Millie. You'll have a replacement after I'm gone."Horton slammed his glass down on the marble tabletop, the sharp sound slicing through the air."Christine. It seems I've been too lenient with you. Have you forgotten your place?" He rose from the sofa, his fingers clamping around my wrist like a vise, squeezing until I thought the bone would splinter. "Did you really think I wouldn't dare to shut you up for good?"I knew he would. He had never had an ounce of affection for me. Not a single drop

The streets of New York in December were like an icebox. The streetlights were dim, the sidewalks nearly empty. The Falcone estate shrank behind me.No one came after me. I stumbled through the streets of Manhattan, dragging my suitcase. With every step, another drop of blood fell.No one wanted to be out in this weather, and no one gave a second glance for a disheveled, bleeding woman.I didn't know where to go. I had no friends, no family, nothing but thirty-seven dollars in my pocket and the tarnished silver ring my father had left me.My mind was a maelstrom, five years of humiliation crashing over me in waves. The physical pain and emotional trauma intertwined until I could no longer stay upright.My vision began to blur. The blood loss and the cold made my body feel impossibly heavy.In a deserted alley, I finally lost consciousness.When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in an incredibly soft bed.A thick down comforter was wrapped around me, chasing away the bone-deep chill.

"Get out of my way! She's my wife!"Horton roared and lunged for my car, but two bodyguards in black suits instantly blocked him.One of them effortlessly twisted Horton's arm, pinning him to the hood of the Rolls-Royce.The other discreetly produced a small, black object and pressed it to Horton's lower back."Sir, please calm down," the bodyguard's voice was polite but frigid.Horton's face was pressed against the cold paint of the car, his cheek contorted by the pressure.The surrounding guests began to whisper amongst themselves, the flashes of their phone cameras going off like strobes.Though reporters were kept at a distance, a photo of the Falcone underboss being subdued like a common thug would undoubtedly make headlines across the country tomorrow.Horton's face was now crimson with rage. The public humiliation made him look like a rabid animal."Christine!" he yelled, twisting his head to glare at me, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine. "You think you can escape? As long

Luca was clinging to his father's hand, his small face streaked with tears, his eyes swollen like tiny peaches.But the little boy was wearing one red sock and one blue sock, and his hair was so messy it looked like it hadn't been washed in days. He spotted me immediately, wrenched his hand from Horton's, and ran toward me, stumbling."Christine!"Luca threw his arms around my leg, clinging to me like a wronged child desperate for his mother. "Christine... I'm hungry." He looked up, snot and tears covering his face. "Millie's sandwiches tasted bad, and Papa made the milk explode... I want your lasagna.""The house is so messy, and no one tells me stories... Can you please come home?"His plea was filled with a dependence and remorse I had never seen before. I was deeply unsettled by it. In the past, he would only run at me to kick me and call me a wicked woman.But now, looking at him, even if my heart stirred with a flicker of emotion, it was only pity.There was a time I would have