Chapter 1My Mafia husband watched our daughter dropped and died, while he just caught his precious woman.
Then he told me: "She runs the money. Without her, everything collapses. Take the blame."
So at my daughter's funeral, he called ME the KILLER.
His family spit in my face. His mother nearly killed me—more than once.
And him? He airlifted that woman for her twisted ankle. Woke me at 2 a.m. to cook for her. While shrapnel was still digging into my ribs.
So I stopped screaming. I just nodded.
And while he slept, I copied everything. Every offshore account. Every shell company. Fifteen years of dirty cash.
Three days ago, I sent it all to the feds. Then I boarded a chopper to somewhere he'll never find me.
He wanted to protect his asset?
Too late. I already burned it to the ground.
--
After our daughter Lily died, I stopped doing every little thing that used to get on my husband Magnus Thorne's nerves.
I quit asking where he'd been. I slept fine when he didn't come home.
When the car bomb went off and the onsite medic told me to call my next of kin, I just said, "I don't have any."
A nurse squinted at my face. "Mrs. Thorne, right? Mr. Thorne's in the next room. Want me to get him?"
I shook my head. "Don't bother."
Thirty minutes later, Magnus walked in anyway.
His eyes were sharp as broken glass, and his voice came out low and cold.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I looked at my bandaged arm.
"Shrapnel. Nothing major."
The flatness in my voice threw him off.
He opened his mouth to say something else, but then the guards' chatter drifted through the door from the hallway.
"Mr. Thorne really lost it when Miss Moreau twisted her ankle."
"He had the chopper up in ten minutes, carried her in and out like she was glass. Wouldn't even let her step on the floor."
Magnus's jaw tightened.
He shot a quick glance at me—waiting for the blowup, the way I used to lose my mind.
But I just leaned back and closed my eyes.
He cleared his throat.
"Don't listen to them. Celeste runs our entire money-laundering algorithm. If she's sidelined, the whole pipeline stalls. That's business, nothing else."
I nodded. Didn't say a word.
His voice went harder.
"You don't believe me?"
"I do." I kept my tone even.
"You trained her yourself. She's your KEY ASSET. Of course you'd take care of her."
He frowned, like my calm scared him more than screaming ever did.
Then a crash from the hallway—metal trays clattering.
Celeste stumbled against the wall, clutching her wrist, and crumpled right outside my door.
Magnus was on his feet in a second, scooping her up.
"What the hell are you doing out of bed?"
"I heard Mrs. Thorne got hurt." She turned her tear-streaked face toward me.
"I just wanted to check on her."
Then she shrank into his chest, trembling.
"Please don't hate me, Leonora... I never meant for Lily to happen."
Old me would've grabbed Magnus by the collar and demanded why he was protecting the woman who killed our daughter.
New me just stared at the ceiling.
Magnus muttered, "I'm taking her back. Be right back."
He carried her out.
It hit midnight. He never came back.
Instead, my secure line buzzed.
A clipped voice on the other end:
"Ms. Cross, this is National Subsurface Surveillance Command. Final confirmation—are you certain you want to join Project Abyssal Sentinel?"
"Once you sign, you're stationed at the deep-sea facility for a minimum of TEN years. Zero contact with the outside. That includes your husband."
I pressed the phone tighter.
"I'm certain."
A pause.
"All right. You have seventy-two hours to rescind. You're a valuable asset, Ms. Cross. We'd hate to lose you."
I hung up and stared at the pale hospital light.
The clock was ticking. And for the first time in months, I felt something almost like relief.
Chapter 2
I heard footsteps in the hall and killed the call, shoving the phone under my pillow.
By the time Magnus pushed the door open, I had my eyes shut, breathing slow and even.
He stopped beside my bed.
I could feel him hovering—that heavy, cold presence of his.
He must've thought I was talking in my sleep because his frown eased for a second.
But then something flickered across his face. Anger, maybe.
He couldn't stand the idea of me drifting away from him, even in dreams.
He grabbed my shoulder and shook me.
"Leonora. Wake up. Were you having a nightmare?"
I blinked, let my eyes focus on his face.
"I dreamed about Lily."
His whole body went still. Then he pulled me into his arms, rough and desperate.
"We'll have more kids. Lots more. I promise."
I didn't answer. There was nothing left in me to give.
Lily was gone, and he thought a replacement would fix it?
My chest felt hollow, like someone had scooped out everything that mattered.
"Magnus, it's almost 2 a.m." I kept my voice flat.
"Why are you here? Something happen?"
He hesitated, which was never a good sign.
Then he said, "Celeste's stomach's acting up. She's been asking for that gumbo you make. The one with the smoked sausage."
Ice ran down my spine.
I'd just been pulled out of a burning car. My ribs were still bruised, and I had stitches in my shoulder. And he wanted me to COOK FOR HER .
I gave him a thin smile.
"Get me a pen and paper. I'll write it down for you."
He blinked, then signaled one of his guys outside.
When I handed him the folded note, his fingers trembled just slightly. He knew what that meant.
I'd told him once, years ago: "The day I give you this recipe, it means we're done. While we're together, I'm the only one who makes it."
Now I'd handed it over like it was nothing.
His jaw worked, but before he could speak, a guard stuck his head in.
"Mr. Thorne, Ms. Moreau's asking for you again. She's in a lot of pain."
Magnus shoved the paper into his pocket and walked out without another word.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Didn't last long.
Maybe twenty minutes later, he was back—and this time, he yanked me upright by the collar of my hospital gown.
"Leonora." His voice was pure ice.
"Celeste threw up blood after she ate that gumbo. What the hell did you put in that recipe?"
I met his stare, calm as still water.
"Get the kitchen to test it. I've got nothing to hide."
His grip on my chin tightened.
"If you're pissed at me, just say it. Don't give me that dead-eyed silence. I'm your HUSBAND, not your enemy."
I pulled my face free and lay back down.
"I've got nothing to say to you."
He went quiet. Too quiet.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I turned my head to the wall.
Through the door, I heard the guard again:
"Mr. Thorne, Ms. Moreau's stomach might be rupturing. She's screaming for you."
Magnus exhaled hard. He looked back at me once—long and hard.
"Get some rest. I'll drive you to the estate tomorrow for the service."
Then he was gone.
I didn't sleep that night.
Not a wink. All I could see was Lily's face.
The little girl I'd carried for nine months, brought into this world with my own body.
Tomorrow, she'd be ashes in a marble urn, buried in the family plot.
Morning came gray and cold.
Magnus showed up on time, helped me into the car, and drove us to the Thorne family estate, tucked away in the hills outside the city.
I leaned on a cane, every step a fire in my ribs, and made my way into the funeral parlor.
The moment I crossed the threshold, my mother-in-law Drusilla Thorne came at me like a wild animal.
"You worthless piece of trash!" Her voice cut through the low murmur of mourners.
"You have the nerve to show your face HERE?"
Chapter 3
Magnus's gaze cut through the room like a blade.
One by one, the mourners backed away, muttering excuses, until it was just him and me standing in the middle of that cold parlor.
He scooped me up without a word—one arm under my knees, the other bracing my back—and carried me through the side hallway to the master suite upstairs.
He set me down on the edge of the bed, then pulled out the old leather first-aid kit from the dresser.
I let him dab antiseptic on the cuts on my arms. Didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
My voice came out flat and quiet.
"Magnus. Celeste took Lily up to that rooftop balcony. So why did your mother just call ME the killer in front of everyone?"
His hand froze mid-motion, the gauze hovering above my wrist. He didn't look at me.
"Leonora, listen. Celeste runs the entire money-flow system. She knows every pipeline, every offshore account, every cutout we've got."
"If the family finds out she had any part in what happened to Lily, they'll gut her. She'd be useless to us."
"But you—you're my wife. You're protected. No one's going to touch you."
He finally met my eyes.
"Just take the fall for this one thing. I'll transfer forty percent of the estate's holding companies to your name. You'll never have to worry about money again."
He was watching me like he expected tears. Or screaming. Or both.
I just stared back at him, empty as a locked room.
"Fine. I don't care."
His jaw tightened. He should've been relieved. Instead, his hand shook as he put the gauze down.
"Don't overthink this," he said, his voice rougher now.
"Celeste is valuable. That's all it is. She's just—"
"I get it." I cut him off.
"You don't have to explain."
He opened his mouth to argue, but then the door slammed open and one of his security guys rushed in.
"Boss—Mis Moreau ran into Miss Thorne in the garden. They're going at it. Full-on screaming match."
Dianne Thorne was Magnus's cousin and the family's golden child—the one everyone expected to take over someday.
Magnus shot to his feet. "Bandage yourself. I'll be back."
He was gone before I could blink.
The door swung shut. Then it opened again.
Drusilla walked in with three of her personal guards behind her. Her heels clicked against the hardwood like the tick of a countdown.
"Leonora." She smiled, and it was the coldest thing I'd ever seen.
"No one's here to protect you now."
I didn't move.
"Lily's dead because of you." She stepped closer.
"And I'm going to make sure you know exactly what it felt like for her."
She jerked her head at the guards.
They grabbed me by the arms and dragged me down the back staircase, through the old wine cellar, to a disused drainage shaft in the basement.
Black iron grate. Cold air rushing up from below. I couldn't see the bottom.
Drusilla grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved my upper body over the edge.
"Lily fell from that rooftop—ten stories up. Do you have any idea how terrifying that drop was?"
She pushed me farther, then yanked me back at the last second. My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Breathe," she hissed. "You remember how to breathe, don't you?"
She shoved me again. "Lily didn't even have time to scream."
Over and over. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. My vision blurred. My chest burned.
Then something tore inside me. Sharp and hot. I tasted copper in my throat. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.
One of the guards muttered, "She's bleeding internally. We keep this up, she's not walking out."
Drusilla let go. I crumpled to the concrete floor, gasping, fading fast.
She stepped over me like I was garbage.
"Get her back to the medical wing. And clean this mess up."
The last thing I heard was her heels clicking away.
Then nothing but dark.
