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From Broken Vessel To Mafia Queen Novel Cover

From Broken Vessel To Mafia Queen

Years ago, I threw myself in front of an assassin's bullet to protect my Mafia boss husband, leaving me nearly infertile. He knelt in my blood, swearing I would be his only wife. But tonight, I heard him whisper to his childhood sweetheart in Italian: "My wife is a useless vessel; only you can give the Rossi family an heir." He thought I couldn't understand him, not knowing I used to work as an Italian translator. He also had no idea that an eight-week-old miracle was currently growing in my womb. Julian, you will never see your child. I no longer want your promises. I no longer want you. From now on, we will never cross paths again. Adieu, pour toujours.
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Chapter 3

I turned to walk away.

"Sienna, stop right there!"

Julian's roar echoed across the massive stone courtyard.

I heard his heavy footsteps pounding against the pavement behind me, growing closer with every frantic beat of my heart.

His possessiveness had been completely triggered.

A godfather could not tolerate defiance, especially from the woman he considered the pillar of his estate.

I veered off the driveway, my heels clicking sharply against the flagstones leading to the grand marble staircase of the lower gardens.

Before I could take another step, Julian's hand clamped down tightly on my wrist like handcuffs made of flesh and bone.

He yanked me back so hard my teeth rattled.

"You are not leaving me!" Julian growled, his eyes blazing with fury.

His touch sickened me, knowing he had just used that same hand to hold another woman.

I wrenched against his grip, and for a split second, the raw rebellion in my eyes made him hesitate.

His fingers loosened just a fraction in surprise.

That momentary hesitation was all I needed. I seized the opportunity, broke free, raised my free hand, and slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

I had done it.

No one else would ever dare do such a thing—openly slapping the Don.

Alessia, who had been following closely behind, suddenly lunged forward.

She threw herself directly in front of Julian, taking a blow that was never meant for her.

In the night air, the sound of my palm striking her cheek was sharp.

Alessia gasped, a sound far too fragile and far too deliberate.

She stumbled backward, clutching her face, then collapsed to the ground and began sobbing dramatically.

"Please!" Alessia cried, throwing herself against Julian's legs.

"Please, stop fighting over me! It's all my fault. I'll leave! Julian, please don't let her hurt you!"

She played the role of the ultimate martyr to perfection.

Julian looked down at his childhood swan, the other woman.

He saw the red marks of my fingers glowing against her pale cheek.

A savage fury blinded him.

He stepped toward me.

He raised his hand, his face twisted into a mask of pure violence, lunging at his own wife.

I braced myself for the impact, stepping backward until my heel met empty air at the edge of the stairs.

Alessia pretended to hold Julian back, but actually grabbed his arm.

Using the chaotic momentum of his lunge, she swung her body weight forward.

Her hands planted firmly on my shoulders.

For someone so frail, she pushed me back with incredible force.

As gravity took over, I caught a glimpse of the wicked, triumphant glint in Alessia's eyes, even if just for a second.

My foot slipped off the edge of the landing.

I fell backward into the open air, a sickening jolt making the world turn upside down.

I tumbled violently down the unforgiving marble staircase.

My body slammed into the stone, again, and again.

A dull impact traveled up my spine, stealing all sound, and the metallic taste of blood filled my throat.

A violent, tearing sensation ripped through my lower abdomen.

It felt like an invisible knife carving me open from the inside out.

I rolled off the bottom of the stairs onto the pathway.

I couldn't breathe, nor could I cry for help. The agonizing pain pinned me down like a heavy boulder.

I lay there, staring up at the pitch-black, starless night sky.

And then, I felt it.

A terrifying, warm, chilling rush of fluid soaked through my custom gown, pooling between my thighs.

I didn't need a doctor to tell me what had happened.

I knew instantly.

My prayed-for miracle, my eight-week-old Rossi heir, was gone.

My vision began to blur, a dark tunnel closing in on my sight.

Just before I plunged completely into darkness, I saw movement at the top of the stairs.

Julian violently shoved Alessia aside.

She hit the ground hard, but he didn't even glance at her, his previous rage vanishing like a phantom.

Julian's face was contorted in primal terror.

He looked like a bystander, his eyes locked not on my face, but on that dark trail of blood.

"Sienna!"

His desperate, broken scream echoed through my fading consciousness as he threw himself down the marble steps toward me.

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