The Don’s Wife Was Never Running
For eight years, I was Vincent Capelli's wife, his right hand, and the only person who ever saw the man beneath the Don's cold mask.
Then he got drunk at a negotiation, and slept with his secretary.
He called me first, voice shaking with guilt. "Bella, I made a mistake. I paid her off. She'll never come back."
I believed him.
Six months later, he was ambushed in Miami. His secretary drove through a hail of bullets to save him. And she was three months pregnant.
When she gave birth to twin boys, the whole Capelli family celebrated.
Framed for stealing the family heirloom, I asked for a divorce.
Vincent, desperate to keep me, dared me to drink a bottle of 150-proof spirit. He thought I'd never do it.
I reached for the bottle.
He stopped me, and gave me all the freedom I wanted. "Come back when you're done running," he said.
I left and never looked back.
Until the night three killers cornered me in an alley.