There were more messages on the phone, but Madeline couldn't read them. Every word was a knife twisting in her gut, every photo a whip against her soul.She finally understood, in visceral detail, the slow, agonizing torture William had endured while she was enjoying the attentions of two men.He had seen these messages every day.He had been reminded every day that his wife was in another man's bed, belittling him.He had been forced to live with her betrayal every single day."Marco," Madeline's voice was ice. "Get the car ready."On the way home, she dialed Ryan's number. After a few rings, he answered, his voice bright and cheerful."Baby, you finally called! I was starting to think you'd forgotten all about me." He was smart enough to pretend their last argument never happened, knowing the Godmother of Chicago would never stoop to apologize."Get to my villa. Now," Madeline's voice was flat, devoid of all emotion."What?" Ryan was clearly taken aback. "Madeline, what's wrong? You
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