Buried by the Mafia, Reborn Without Him

Anthony Vitale—my husband’s older brother—was found dead after a fall at one of the family’s private properties on Long Island.

He died before the men around him could even call it an accident.

My husband, Enzo Vitale, stepped in as head of the family.

At the same time, the senior men of the family made the decision for him—Enzo would take responsibility for his brother’s widow.

His mother, Donna Victoria Vitale—the one truly running things behind the scenes—made it clear in the study at the estate.

“Sophia is alone now,” she said. “You take her in. First, to carry on your brother’s bloodline. Second, to keep her under this family’s protection. This is family law.You don’t get a say.”

That night, Enzo held me close, his voice low and soothing.

“Elena, I’ll give her one child. That’s it. Once she’s pregnant, I’m done with her. You’re the only one who matters to me.”

I believed him. But things didn’t stay that way. At first, he spent one night a month with her. Then it turned into one night a month with me.

That was when I knew—he wasn’t mine anymore.

The day Sophia announced her pregnancy at the private medical office the Vitales used, Enzo slipped the Vitale heirloom onto her finger—a black onyx signet ring engraved with the Vitale crest.

It was the same ring he gave me when we got engaged.

And he did it in front of everyone.

That was the moment I knew—it was time to walk away.

Long Island, New York. The Vitale estate.

Sophia leaned into Enzo, all soft smiles and lowered eyes.

The black jade ring on her finger caught the firelight, glowing with a deep, eerie green.

“Enzo,” she said sweetly,

“This is the family ring. It should belong to the woman who runs the house.”

Donna Victoria sat back on the couch, a cigar between her fingers, waving it off with a faint smile.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re carrying a Vitale heir—the first of the next generation. That ring belongs on your hand.”

Only then did Enzo notice me standing by the oak doors.

He eased away from Sophia and walked over, the scent of her perfume still clinging to him—heavy, cloying, hard to ignore.

“Elena,” he said quietly,

“The doctor said jade helps calm the nerves. Sophia hasn’t been sleeping well. I just let her wear it for now. You don’t mind, do you?”

Sophia immediately reached for the ring, putting on a show.

“Oh, Elena, don’t be upset. I’ll give it back right away.”

She tugged at it too hard, her finger flushing red almost instantly. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Enzo… it hurts…”

He frowned, clearly bothered, and caught her hand.

“Leave it. I said it’s yours.”

His tone softened as he looked at her.

“I’ll get Elena another one.”

Then he turned to me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Elena, you’ve always been reasonable. Sophia’s pregnant—you’re not going to make things harder for her, are you?”

Donna Victoria’s gaze turned sharp.

“You’ve been in this family long enough, and still nothing to show for it,” she said coldly.

“And now that Sophia is finally carrying a child, you can’t even give up a ring?”

“She’s doing this for the family. Without that child, people would start talking. She’s earned her place.”

She took a slow drag from her cigar.

“If she has another, we could always raise one under your name. That’s more than fair. And you’re making a fuss over a ring?”

“Your father advised this family for years. Don’t tell me you still need me to spell it out for you.”

I looked at the ring.

Enzo had placed it on my finger himself, the night we got engaged. I treasured it so much that after the wedding, I locked it away in the vault beneath the estate.

Untouched.

Now it sat on her hand—that dark green glint cutting straight through me.

My chest tightened, but my voice stayed steady.

“It looks better on her,” I said quietly.

“Keep it. It’s his to give.”

Donna Victoria let out a short, satisfied hum.

“At least you know your place.”

Enzo looked at me differently.

He had expected a scene.

I had never tolerated even the slightest hint of betrayal from him before.

But this time, I let it slide.

And somehow, that unsettled him more.

That night, he came to my room.

The moment the door closed, he pulled me into his arms.

“Elena,” he murmured,

“I know this hasn’t been easy on you. But now that Sophia’s pregnant, things can finally settle down. I can be with you again.”

I remembered what he had promised.

I looked at him, almost afraid of the answer.

“You said once,” I asked quietly,

“that once she was pregnant, you wouldn’t touch her again. Did you mean it?”

For a moment, I still hoped.

He smiled, pinching my nose lightly.

“You jealous little thing. Of course I meant it. You’re my wife—the one I stood beside at the altar.”

“She’s carrying a child now. If I stay away from her, even my mother won’t have a reason to complain.”

His hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said softly.

“Let’s see if we can give you one too. Maybe then you’ll stop overthinking everything.”

He leaned in to kiss me.

But that heavy perfume—sweet, suffocating—filled my lungs.

And for the first time, I felt nothing but disgust.