Scorned Wife, Secret Mafia Heiress

Thomas's laugh pierced through me like shards of glass. Not the warm chuckle I'd fallen in love with, but something cold and cruel that transformed his handsome features into something unrecognizable.

"You want the truth, Cheryl? Fine. Yes, I've been sleeping with Jessica. For three years now." He loosened his tie further, dropping onto our leather couch. "And God, it's been amazing. The way she moves, the sounds she makes..."

My stomach churned. Three years. While I'd been planning dinner parties, hosting his family, trying to be the perfect wife - he'd been with her.

I pulled the manila envelope from my purse and tossed it onto his lap. "Sign these."

He thumbed through the divorce papers, that twisted smile never leaving his face. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean," he leaned forward, eyes glinting, "I'll sign these when you tell my family you cheated on me."

The room spun. "You want me to lie?"

"Think about it - everyone knows how devoted you are to me. If I'm the cheater, they'll never accept Jessica. But if you're the unfaithful one..." He shrugged. "I'm just the wronged husband who found comfort in an old friend's arms."

I stared at him, this stranger wearing my husband's face.

"You're insane."

"No, I'm practical. You want out? Fine. But it'll be on my terms." He stood, straightening his clothes. "Think it over. Though really, what choice do you have?"

I sank into the chair across from him, exhaustion seeping into my bones. "Keep the money, Thomas. All of it. I don't want a penny."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really now?"

"But I won't say I cheated." I met his gaze steadily. "We'll cite irreconcilable differences."

Thomas drummed his fingers on the armrest, studying me. The same calculating look he'd give business competitors before crushing them. "You're giving up quite a lot here. Half of everything I own..."

"Half of everything we built," I corrected. "But I'd rather leave with nothing than destroy my reputation for your convenience."

He leaned back, a smirk playing at his lips. "Tell you what - I'll still give you something. A parting gift." His voice dripped with condescension. "If you ask nicely. Get down on your knees and beg, like the good little wife you've always been."

The laugh that burst from my throat surprised us both. "You really don't get it, do you?" I stood, gathering my purse. "You're not worth begging for. Not anymore."

His face darkened. "Cheryl-"

"Sign the papers, Thomas. I'll have my lawyer contact yours." I walked to the door, my steps lighter than they'd been in years. "You can keep your money, your house, and your precious Jessica. I'm done."

…

I stumbled into The Red Door Bar, Amelia's arm linked through mine. The world spun, but at least the burning in my chest had dulled to a manageable ache.

"Another," I slurred, pushing my empty glass across the bar top.

Amelia frowned. "Maybe we should slow-"

"Please. I need this." My voice cracked. The bartender slid over another whiskey neat.

"He's not worth destroying your liver over," Amelia said, but she didn't stop me as I drained half the glass.

"Five years, Am. Five fucking years I gave him everything." The alcohol loosened my tongue, unleashing words I'd bottled up for so long. "And the whole time he was fucking her. In our bed. While I planned dinner parties for his family."

Amelia's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, her face falling. "Shit. It's the hospital." She worked as an ER nurse. "Cheryl, I'm so sorry, but-"

"Go." I waved her off. "Save lives. I'll be fine."

"Promise you'll call a cab?"

I nodded, already signaling for another drink. Amelia squeezed my shoulder and hurried out.

The bar stool next to me scraped against the floor. A man settled into it, his presence somehow filling the space without being intrusive.

"Rough night?" His voice was deep, gentle.

I turned, meeting dark eyes that held no judgment. Just understanding. "You could say that."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really." I studied him through the pleasant haze of alcohol. Strong jaw, kind face. A small scar above his eyebrow caught the dim light.

"Fair enough." He ordered two waters, sliding one to me. "But maybe switch to this for a bit?"

I laughed despite myself. "Are you always this concerned about drunk strangers?"

"Only the ones who look like they could use a friend."

"I don't even have a place to go tonight," I admitted, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

"I have a spare room." He held up his hands at my look. "No strings. Just a safe place to crash."

I should have said no. Should have called that cab Amelia mentioned. But little did I know what I was getting myself into.