AT 30,000 FEET, I FOUND MY MAFIA BOSS HUSBAND WITH HIS SECRETARY—THEN ONE PHONE CALL STARTED A WAR HE NEVER SAW COMING

Chap 1

I stayed silent until the flight attendant called her his wife.

Ryan didn’t correct her.

He smiled.

That was when I stood up, walked toward them, and made the call Ryan would spend the rest of his life wishing I hadn’t made.

Ten minutes earlier, I still trusted him.

Safe flight. Love you.

Ryan replied immediately.

Love you too. Boarding for Portland now. Business meeting. I’ll call when I land.

I smiled, put my phone away, and settled into row fourteen of my flight to Denver.

Being married to Ryan Moretti had taught me not to ask too many questions about business trips.

Ryan wasn’t an ordinary businessman.

To the public, he was the polished owner of an international security and logistics empire.

Behind closed doors, men lowered their voices when they said his name.

Ryan Moretti was the head of one of Chicago’s most powerful crime families.

A mafia boss.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and intimidating, Ryan could silence a room simply by walking into it. Dark tattoos disappeared beneath the sleeves of his tailored black suits, reminders of a life he rarely discussed with outsiders.

For seven years, I had been the woman beside him.

His wife.

His confidante.

The one person Ryan claimed he would never lie to.

Then I heard a familiar voice coming from first class.

“Take the window seat, babe.”

My blood went cold.

Ryan.

For several seconds, I convinced myself I had imagined it.

Ryan was supposed to be flying to Portland.

He had just told me he was boarding.

Slowly, I leaned into the aisle.

And there he was.

Twenty feet in front of me.

My husband.

The man half of Chicago’s underworld feared.

Ryan Moretti was standing beneath the first-class overhead compartment, lifting a black suitcase for Chloe Bennett, his beautiful young secretary.

The same woman I had questioned him about months earlier.

The same woman who attended private meetings at our home long after midnight.

The same woman whose perfume I once smelled on Ryan’s jacket.

When I confronted him, Ryan had stared at me across our bedroom and told me I was imagining things.

“You’re my wife, Claire. Stop acting insecure.”

I had believed him.

I wanted to confront them immediately.

Instead, I stayed seated.

And watched.

Some instinct told me not to reveal myself yet.

Maybe it came from spending seven years married to a mafia boss.

In Ryan’s world, the person who showed their cards first usually lost.

So I waited.

And somehow, every minute became worse.

After takeoff, Chloe curled toward him.

Ryan took her hand.

Not accidentally.

Not professionally.

He intertwined his fingers with hers.

Chloe rested her head against his shoulder.

Ryan didn’t move away.

Instead, he leaned closer.

Later, she stretched across the wide first-class seat until her head was practically resting in his lap.

Ryan gently brushed a strand of blonde hair from her face.

My stomach twisted.

For months, Ryan had been “too exhausted” to touch me.

Too busy handling family business to have dinner with me.

Too distracted by problems with rival organizations to spend a weekend at home.

Too dangerous, he claimed, for me to accompany him on business trips.

Yet apparently, the most feared mafia boss in Chicago had plenty of tenderness left.

He was simply giving it to another woman.

Then a flight attendant approached carrying drinks.

“Sir, would your wife like a blanket?”

Everything inside me stopped.

I waited.

Surely Ryan would correct her.

He didn’t.

Ryan looked down at Chloe.

Then smiled.

“Yes, thank you.”

My heart didn’t break.

Something stranger happened.

The pain disappeared.

Completely.

In its place came cold clarity.

Ryan Moretti had built his reputation on loyalty.

Men had been removed from his organization for betraying him.

Deals had collapsed because someone broke their word.

He demanded absolute loyalty from everyone around him.

Yet he had just allowed a stranger to call his mistress his wife while his actual wife sat fourteen rows behind him.

I stood.

Straightened my blazer.

Picked up my purse.

And walked into first class.

Ryan noticed me immediately.

The color disappeared from his face.

For perhaps the first time since I had known him, Ryan Moretti looked genuinely afraid.

Chloe followed his stare.

She practically jumped away from him.

“Claire?”

Ryan’s voice was barely audible.

I smiled.

“Wow, honey. Your replacement wife is younger than I expected.”

Several passengers turned.

Ryan immediately stood.

At six-foot-three, he towered over nearly everyone in the cabin.

His black suit jacket shifted, revealing the edge of the tattoos covering his forearms.

Normally, that sight intimidated people.

Not me.

Not anymore.

“Claire,” he said quietly. “Please. This isn’t what you think.”

I looked at Chloe.

Then at Ryan.

“No. It’s worse.”

Chloe swallowed.

“Mrs. Moretti, I can explain—”

“Don’t.”

She went silent.