Millions For Her, Lies For Me

"$30,000 transferred to Jennifer Scott."

The notification buzzed on my screen as my eyes were fixed on the electronic bank statement from Wilson Financial Group.

Being nine months pregnant with our child, it was difficult for me to witness how my husband Christopher Wilson, the ruthless boss of the Wilson Mafia family, had been transferring such a great amount to the same woman other than me every month for the last two years.

I wouldn't be lying if I said that the first transfer was from the same day when we lost our first child.

At that moment, another buzzing sound from my phone broke my trance. It was a message request on a secure mafia-only messenger app.

When I read the name, a shiver ran down my spine - Jennifer Scott.

"Jennifer Scott would like to connect."

Even a note was attached to it. "The woman who gets $30,000 in pocket money every month from your husband."

An unsettling feeling washed over me, while stroking my belly, I clicked 'accept'.

—

Immediately, I received a message.

'Did you get the bank statement?'

I rolled my eyes and ignored her words. The next moment, I tapped on her profile.

The earliest post on that account was from two years ago, the date - 18th April. In the image, she leaned on a man's shoulder. Undoubtedly he was Christopher.

My heart skipped a beat as I recognised the intricate embroidery on his shirt. I gifted it to him when he successfully broke an arms deal with the Russian Syndicate.

A bitter smile adorned my lips as my fingers touched the date, the 18th of April. It was the same day when I lost our first child while Christopher was supposed to be on a 'business trip' with her. The new revelation choked my breath.

With trembling fingers, I scrolled down her page. Since that day, she had been showcasing her expensive gifts – clothes, jewellery, even a luxury car. They were items that Christopher had given me too.

Eventually, a new post grabbed my attention. It was a rose-scented perfume.

Without delay, I stood up and picked up his clothes from the night before, the one which he wore during his late-night meeting. I lifted it to my nose and inhaled an unmistakable fragrance of rose. The fun part was I never wore perfume in my life.

Afterwards, I clicked on another post. It was a video of an ultrasound. Jennifer was pregnant.

Suddenly I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. The next moment, my phone dropped and I was barely able to breathe.

But before I could scroll down, some photos and videos flooded my inbox. I gathered some strength and fixed my eyes on the screen again.

The first picture showed Christopher, his expression stern and merciless, holding a gun. Meanwhile, Jennifer was standing behind him, leaning into his shoulder with a smirk, as if the world belonged to her.

The other pictures showcased a similar story—Christopher with her, both wrapped in the world of organised crime.

I knew that look in his eyes; it was the same one which he had when he used to deal with traitors, rivals, or anyone who crossed his path. But there he was, with her, not me.

I clicked on another video. It was taken at the docks, one of Christopher's high-security zones. His bodyguards, armed and in position, stood like statues around them. Jennifer's voice was soft as she asked, "Do you love me?"

However, my heart pounded after hearing Christopher's reply. "I'll always love you, Jennie."

Jennie. The name he used for her, was a nickname filled with the kind of warmth I hadn’t heard from him in years.

The man in the video—surrounded by his loyal guards, armed to the teeth—was not just a mafia boss, but a man hopelessly in love.

The mockery was the fact that he held those emotions for a woman other than his wife of seven years.

Tears poured out of the corner of my eyes as I replayed that video repeatedly. Soon, it was evening. I heard sharp footsteps echoing through the dim room. It was Christopher.

"Eva, Why are the lights off? Don't forget you're pregnant. What if you fall?" His voice was filled with a casual concern that felt like a mockery.

The moment he switched on the lights, his expression softened as he saw tears falling down my cheeks. Kneeling before me, he reached out and took my hand.

"What happened? Who made my wife and our future heir cry?" His voice was smooth, as if he didn't have another life, with another woman.