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The Bloodline's Bitter Judgment Novel Cover

The Bloodline's Bitter Judgment

On her seventh wedding anniversary with Reuben, the Don of Chicago's underworld, a mother's life shatters. Her young son, Nico, tearfully reveals a devastating secret: his father dismissed her as a mere business wife, claiming a woman named Bianca holds his true affection. When Reuben reacts with defensive panic to the child's words, their marriage crumbles. Facing a husband who is now a stranger, she is left with a chilling question: where is her real son?
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Chapter 1

For my seventh wedding anniversary, I was selecting a fine cigar for my husband, Reuben—the Don of Chicago’s underworld.

Suddenly, the study door was thrown open.

My son, Nico, rushed in, his face streaked with tears.

"My tutor said I was being silly," he sobbed.

He buried his face in my skirt, his small body trembling uncontrollably.

I gathered him into my arms, trying to understand the cause of this little storm.

"Papa said you're his 'business wife'," his innocent words pierced my heart like a shard of ice.

A chill slicked down my spine as he spoke again.

"That you're here to help with the family and the business."

"He said Mama Bianca is the wife he really loves."

"That her job is just to be beautiful and hold his heart."

The tips of my fingers went numb.

My husband, Reuben, had just returned from taking care of things at the docks.

He planted a kiss on my forehead.

"What's troubling our little prince now?"

The next second, his smile froze as Nico repeated those words through his tears.

His voice grew taut as he reached out to cover Nico's mouth.

"He's just a child! He's spouting nonsense!"

I stared at the man who ruled this city's shadows.

In that moment, he was a complete stranger.

If I was just a business deal... then who was the woman he truly loved?

And all these years… A terrifying thought struck me. Where was my real son?

————————

1

I didn’t push Reuben for an answer.

Instead, I silently retrieved a velvet box from the deepest drawer of my desk and handed it to him.

He took it, a flicker of delight in his eyes, and opened it.

Inside lay a pair of antique cufflinks engraved with the family crest, a set he had coveted for a long time.

"They're perfect! Darling, your taste is flawless, as always."

He pulled me to his side, his lips brushing my cheek.

I picked up the cufflinks and fastened them onto his shirt cuffs myself.

For seven years, I'd given him a gift for every important occasion without fail.

He, on the other hand, rarely bothered with such details.

I’d always told myself it was just his nature as the Don—a man of ambition and power, not sentiment, too consumed with ruling his empire to be concerned with such trivialities.

But Nico's words echoed in my ears:

"Papa loves giving gifts to Mama Bianca. He says surprises are only for the one he truly loves."

A child's innocent words had become a poison-laced dagger, twisting in my heart.

It wasn't that he was unromantic.

His romance was simply never meant for me.

Reuben deftly avoided the subject, a dismissive smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

I watched him in silence for a long moment.

"I'm sorry," he finally said before I could speak, his tone sharp, "but I'm not going to entertain a child's delusions!"

With that, he turned and strode into his study.

Watching him retreat, I realized for the first time what a complete farce our seven-year marriage had become.

Late that night, the man beside me was deep in sleep.

But those words, Reuben's stiff smile… they replayed in my mind, chasing away any hope of rest.

I slipped out of bed, padding barefoot from the bedroom.

The door to his study was ajar.

That was Reuben's sanctuary, a place he hated to be disturbed.

For seven years, I had respected his territory.

But tonight, a vengeful curiosity guided my hand as I pushed the door open.

I searched every corner, desperate for a clue.

I found nothing.

Frustrated, I straightened up, and my gaze landed on the sterling silver photo frame in the center of his desk.

It was a photo of our family of three.

Nico was in Reuben's arms, and I leaned against him, my smile demure and content.

To any outsider, we were a powerful and loving family.

I picked up the frame, my fingers brushing over the smiling faces of my husband and our "son."

Was I overthinking this? Was I really doubting my husband over the ramblings of a five-year-old?

A wave of guilt and shame washed over me.

I sighed, preparing to set the frame back in its place.

Just then, my fingers slipped.

The frame slid from my grasp.

I quickly bent down to retrieve it.

But when I held it up to the light, I froze.

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