The Wife He Let Go
The night my husband, William Costello, was assassinated by his enemies was supposed to be a celebration—our wedding anniversary. I was dressed in his favorite red dress, waiting for him, when the phone rang.
"Mr. Costello was shot at the harbor. The bullet went through the back of his head. He died on the spot."
I collapsed to the floor. I clung to his belongings, mourning for a week straight. We even lost our unborn child during this time.
Everyone said William and I were true love. Even the Don himself came to the funeral, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder with a sigh. He said, "All of Blackhaven knows you were the only woman he ever loved."
Grief nearly destroyed me. I stood at the