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

Three days later, the armored black Mercedes rolled through the iron gates of the Vitale estate under a brilliant winter sun.

The changes were already visible.

The security detail at the front gates had been replaced by fresh faces—men who didn't know the old regime of intimidation.

As the car pulled up to the grand entrance, the heavy oak doors opened.

Valentina Russo was standing on the steps, her designer luggage piled high beside her, her face twisted in a mask of furious humiliation as two new guards escorted her toward a waiting taxi at the curb.

She glared at Emily through the tinted window of the Mercedes as Emily stepped out into the courtyard.

Emily didn't even blink. She walked past her former rival without slowing her stride, her head held high, wrapped in Alessandro’s cashmere coat.

Inside the foyer, the grand marble hall was quiet.

The carved walnut chair was still there by the fireplace.

Only this time, a plush cashmere throw blanket had been draped over its back, and a small side table with prenatal vitamins and herbal tea had been placed beside it.

Ambrose bowed deeply as Emily walked in. "Welcome home, Mrs. Vitale."

"Thank you, Ambrose," Emily said, her voice steady and warm.

Alessandro walked up behind her, gently placing his hand on the small of her back. "Go upstairs and rest, Emily. The specialist from Boston is arriving in an hour to examine you."

Emily turned around, looking up at him. "Where will you be?"