My Husband's Mistress Hired Me

I was a top underground fixer and the wife of the most ruthless Mafia Capo in New York.

I managed his money, built his empire, and spent countless nights waiting in terror for him to survive bloody turf wars.

But one night, a desperate woman hired my encrypted network, begging for advice because her mafia protector was pulling away.

When I looked at the photos she sent, my blood ran cold.

The man she was crying over was my husband.

He lied to my face, claiming he was busy with dangerous Family business and ignoring my texts.

Yet, through the surveillance footage the woman sent me, I watched my ruthless husband stand in the pouring rain until dawn.

The man who treated me like a servant was groveling like a beggar, clutching imported medicine and food, pleading with a civilian to open her door.

"I will never leave you unprotected again," he promised her.

I had bled my own inheritance dry to cover his careless mistakes, only for him to give his devotion to an outsider.

He took my loyalty for granted, assuming I would always sit in our empty penthouse waiting for him.

I realized my intellect and ambition were never meant to be buried for a man who didn't respect me.

So, I logged into the Cayman Island banking portal and revoked his access to millions in offshore accounts.

I took off my gold Famiglia signet ring, packed my bags, and left his territory forever.