Betrayed Wife: Hiding The Mafia Boss's Son

Liv POV

The Hayes estate was less a home and more a fortress disguised as a palace.

The Sunday Brunch was a sacred tradition.

Crystal glasses clinked, and the air smelled of roasted lamb and the heavy, cloying scent of old money.

I wore a cream dress that skimmed over the swell of my bump.

My mother, Elizabeth, sat at the head of the table next to my father.

She was the iron spine of this family.

She watched Michael like a hawk watches a snake.

"You look tired, Michael," she said, her voice smooth but sharp as a razor.

"Just working hard for the family, Elizabeth," Michael replied, squeezing my hand.

I suppressed a flinch.

The cheap plastic hair clip I had found in his car was burning a hole in my pocket.

I hadn't asked him about it yet. I was too scared of the answer.

"Liv has been glowing," Michael said, lifting his glass. "To the future."

"To the future," the table echoed.

The double doors at the end of the hall burst open.

The sound was violent, loud like a gunshot.

Silence fell over the room like a shroud.

A woman stood there.

Her hair was messy, her makeup smeared across her cheeks.

She was holding a child's hand.

My heart stopped.

It was the woman Michael had sworn he didn't know when I saw them talking at a gala years ago.

Serena.

"To the future?" Serena screamed, her voice cracking. "What about his past?"

Jennings moved instantly, but my father held up a hand.

"Let her speak," my father rumbled.

Michael stood up, his chair scraping violently against the floor.

"Get her out of here," he commanded, his voice shaking. "She's crazy."

"Crazy?" Serena laughed, a manic sound. "Tell them, Michael. Tell them who Leo is."

She pushed the boy forward.

The boy looked terrified.

And he looked exactly like Michael.

The room spun.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Daddy?" the boy whimpered.

The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

I looked at Michael.

I waited for him to deny it. To laugh. To explain.

But he was pale. Gray.

Guilt slicked his brow.

"Liv," he started, reaching for me. "It's not what you think."

"He called you Daddy," I whispered.

My stomach cramped. A sharp, violent pain.

I doubled over, clutching the table.

Serena saw my weakness.

Instead of stopping, she lunged.

"You think you're special because you're pregnant?" she shrieked, rushing toward me. "My son is the firstborn! He is the heir!"

She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin.

I tried to pull away, but she was fueled by hysteria.

She raked her nails down my cheek.

Pain flared, hot and stinging.

"Get off her!" Michael roared, but he was frozen, caught between his two lies.

Jennings didn't hesitate this time.

He tackled Serena, pinning her to the ground.

The boy started screaming.

I touched my cheek.

My fingers came away red.

Blood.

In our world, you do not touch the women. You certainly do not touch the pregnant women.

The silence in the room changed.

It went from shocked to murderous.

My mother stood up.

She didn't look at Serena. She looked at Michael.

"You brought this filth to our doorstep," she said.

My father stood up slowly.

He looked at Michael with eyes that promised death.

"Jennings," my father said. "Take the trash out."

They dragged Serena away. She was screaming about rights, about blood.

"He's the heir! That thing in her belly is nothing!"

The words hit me harder than her nails.

I looked at Michael.

He was staring at the door where his secret had just been dragged out.

Then he looked at me.

"Liv, please. I can explain. It was before..."

"Don't," I said.

My voice was steady. Dead.

I walked up to him.

My hand was trembling, but not from fear.

I raised my hand and slapped him.

The sound echoed off the vaulted ceiling.

It wasn't just a slap. It was a severance.

"You are nothing to me," I said.

I turned my back on him.

And I walked out of the room, leaving my marriage in the ruins of the brunch.