Watching My Mafia Ex Raise Another Man's Heir

My husband wanted out of our marriage. His reason: I was the reason the family still had no heir. He didn't know I was pregnant too. And he had no idea that in three hours, he'd never be able to father a child again.

"Renata, sign it. The three casinos and the underground bank on the South Side go to me, and we part ways clean." Dario slid a folder across the table. "Bianca's carrying my child. The family needs a proper heir."

He had a cigar clamped in his teeth, and he blew out a harsh cloud of smoke. That face I used to be crazy about—there was nothing left in it now but certainty. It hadn't even crossed his mind that I might say no.

Bianca was tucked against him in a tight designer dress, her red nails trailing idly over a belly that didn't show yet. She smiled at me. "I'm sorry, Renata. But Dario says I'm the only one who can give him a real family."

I looked down at the contract. It didn't just end our marriage. It signed away every major asset in my name along with it.

Five years. I'd been at his side from the days he was a small-time street runner all the way up to the head of the family.

I took a bullet for him. I cleaned up the worst books in the family, one bad account at a time. To win over the old guard, I drank until my stomach bled and they carried me into the ER.

Every one of those businesses, I'd paid for in blood.

And now he wanted to scoop it all up and hand it to a woman a rival crew had planted on him.

"Think this through, Dario." I held his eyes. "The family has rules. People who turn on their own don't get far."

"Rules?" He scoffed and tossed the pen down in front of me. "I'm about to have a son. The Don cares about bloodline above all else—that's the only rule that counts. Quit stalling and sign. Keep a little dignity for yourself."

I took a deep breath and forced down whatever was rising in my throat.

My hand drifted to my stomach before I could stop it. Just that morning, I'd gotten the results back from the clinic—I was pregnant too. I'd meant to tell him today, on our anniversary.

Now, watching the two of them, all I felt was relief.

I picked up the pen, signed my name, and pushed the folder back. "Take your things and get out of my sight."

Dario gathered up the contract and stood, one arm around Bianca, looking very pleased with himself. "Smart girl. I've got the Velvet booked out tonight to celebrate. Don't show up and spoil it."

The door shut behind them.

I grabbed the cold coffee off the table and hurled it at the wall. The cup shattered, coffee running down the wallpaper in dark streaks. Five years. I'd taken a bullet for him, cleaned up more of his messes than I could count, and all it bought me was "keep a little dignity."

I stood there breathing hard. Then I bent down, picked the pen up off the floor—the one that had just signed everything away—and closed my fist around it.

Crying wouldn't change a thing. I was going to make him pay it all back, with interest.

Three hours later, my phone rang.

It was Gemma—my closest friend, and the person in this city who heard everything first.

"Renata," she said, barely keeping her voice down, "I bet you can't guess what just happened to that piece of garbage."

"What, did somebody put a bullet in him on the way to the bar?" I poured myself a glass of red.

"Not dead." She was practically gloating. "But worse than dead. He took that little tramp out to celebrate, and halfway across the bridge the Vipers came up on motorcycles and opened fire. His car went straight into the guardrail—"

She paused, dragging it out on purpose.

"A steel rod came up through the bottom of the car. He survived—but Renata... it's where it hit him that matters. Word from inside the hospital, strictly off the record: that part of him is crushed past fixing. The doctors say he'll never father his own child again. Not in this lifetime."

The glass stopped halfway to my lips.

Something rose in my chest that I couldn't put a name to, and I almost laughed out loud.

Dario—who never shut up about the family needing an heir, who threw me out over another woman's belly—had just gone and ended his own bloodline.

"And Bianca?"

"That one's got nine lives. She'd gotten out earlier and grabbed a cab, so all she walked away with was a scrape." Gemma snorted. "The little 'heir' in her belly is doing just fine."

I hung up and walked to the window. Outside, the whole city was lit up.

I looked down and touched my stomach again.

Dario had wanted a child so badly it drove him out of his mind. He'd forced me out, stripped me of my businesses—and the only child he could ever call his own was right here inside me, and it would never once cross his mind.

I picked up my phone and texted Gemma back. Tomorrow. Maria Hospital.