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A Betrayal Written in Smoke Novel Cover

A Betrayal Written in Smoke

After spending six months supervising projects in Europe, I returned to my Chicago penthouse only to find my prized, rare ghost orchid withered and dead. Refusing to believe it died naturally, I examined the soil and detected the unmistakable, cloying scent of cheap cigars. The truth was clear: prolonged exposure to smoke had killed my plant. Yet, neither my husband nor I smoke. Who had been secretly living in our home while I was gone?
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Chapter 2

I froze. "Honey, I already bought this book last month."

He looked taken aback but quickly masked it with a smile. "It doesn't matter. Think of it as a spare. A good book deserves a backup."

This wasn't him. Not at all.

I remained silent as we strolled out of the restaurant.

When I reached out to take his arm, he flinched—almost imperceptibly—but I felt it.

I glanced up at him. He paused for two seconds, then wrapped an arm around my waist as if nothing had happened.

He laughed, a little too loudly. "You've been gone for six months. I'm just not used to having you on my arm."

I didn't say a word.

All I could think about was that comment from the encrypted group chat—

[Initiate physical contact. If he flinches even a little, there's a 99% chance he's cheating.]

We walked hand-in-hand toward the parking lot. Ahead, a young woman was loitering between two cars, her eyes glued to her phone.

When she saw me, she froze for a moment—then a slow, deliberate smile spread across her face. "Hi, Aurelia."

I stopped in my tracks.

Scarlett Ricci. A low-level Soldato in the family.

She gave Derrick a quick nod. "Derrick."

Derrick smiled back. "Scarlett. What a coincidence."

But this wasn't a coincidence. Something was deeply wrong.

Yes, we all worked for the Sterling family, but at different levels. He was a Capo. Scarlett was just a Soldato. There was no reason for her to know him—let alone greet him by his first name.

They started chatting like old friends. Scarlett kept tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous, repetitive gesture.

That's when I saw it. On her wrist—a Cartier bracelet.

The exact same design as the one I had lost.

But then my eyes focused. A tiny rose-and-thorn engraving on the gold surface.

It wasn't a replica.

It was my bracelet.

I didn't say a word. But in that instant, I understood everything.

Derrick had taken my bracelet, given it to her, and then tried to placate me with an irrelevant art book, thinking I wouldn't notice. And Scarlett? She was wearing it on purpose. To provoke me.

I smiled and linked my arm through Derrick's. "We should get going."

In the car, he leaned in close, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as if nothing had happened.

I didn't bother to respond.

When the car pulled up to our building, I glanced at my phone. "There's a family emergency. I have to go to the safe house. You go on up."

He didn't question it. I waited until he was inside the building—then drove directly to another one of our strongholds.

I knew my car had a tracker on it. Derrick was nothing if not cautious. The moment he sensed my suspicion, he would monitor my every move.

If I had parked the car at home, he would have assumed I was none the wiser.

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