The Mafia Boss Declared His Mistress the Lady of the House—His Pregnant Wife Left Her Keys

Emily looked down at the most powerful man in the Midwest kneeling in the dirt at her feet.

"Get up, Alessandro," she said, her voice devoid of warmth.

"No," he said, his hands resting on the wooden boards of the porch steps just inches from her boots. "I was a fool. I was so blinded by the expansion of the North End territories and the pressure from the New York board that I forgot what my father told me on his deathbed—that an empire built without a queen is just a pile of stones waiting to crush you."

"Your father built his empire on loyalty and respect," Emily shot back. "You built yours on convenience and betrayal."

Sara stepped out onto the porch behind Emily, the shotgun still resting casually in the crook of her arm. "You heard the lady, Vitale. The speech is touching, but the performance is over. Get off my property before I help you pack."

Alessandro didn't look at Sara. He kept his eyes locked on Emily's face.

"Come back to Chicago with me," Alessandro pleaded, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. "Let our private medical team monitor you at the estate. Let me fix this."

"Fix this?" Emily laughed bitterly. "How, Alessandro? Are you going to execute Valentina in the town square to prove your devotion? Are you going to erase the last three months like they never happened?"

"I've already cut ties with the New York board," Alessandro said quietly. "The merger is dead. I told Valentina’s father this morning that if his daughter sets foot in my city again, I'll declare open war on his family. I don't care about the shipping docks anymore, Emily. I only care about you and this child."

Emily stared at him, searching his face for any sign of the political coldness she had come to know so well.

There was nothing there except raw, naked panic.

The man who never lost control was completely unraveling because she had slipped through his fingers.

"If I come back," Emily said slowly, leaning down so her face was level with his, "it will not be as your ornament. It will not be as the hostess for your mafia dinners while your mistresses wait in the wings."

"Name your terms," Alessandro said instantly. "Anything."

"Valentina leaves the city by midnight," Emily demanded. "Your mother moves into the guest cottage on the east lawn. And every single guard, advisor, and enforcer who participated in hunting me down across Wisconsin is stripped of their rank and banished from the estate."

Alessandro didn't hesitate for a single second.

"Done," he said.

"And lastly," Emily added, her eyes flashing with a fierce, unbreakable light, "you sign over fifty percent voting shares of Vitale Global Logistics into a trust bearing our child's name. If you ever betray me again, Alessandro, I won't run. I will take your empire piece by piece until you have nothing left."

Alessandro smiled.

It wasn't a cold, dangerous smile. It was a genuine, fierce grin that made him look like the young man she had fallen in love with eight years ago before the crown weighed too heavily on his shoulders.