My Husband Sold Me To The Mafia King Who Turned Out To Be My Daddy Chapter 01
“Kneel. Call yourself a whore. Apologize to Vivian, or I’m selling you to the crime lord upstairs.”
My husband smiles like he’s already won.
He has no idea that crime lord is the man who used to tuck me in at night.
It’s Mother’s Day.
I’m at a black-tie charity gala.
And I just walked in on my husband, Damon Sinclair, laughing into the ear of his brand-new eighteen-year-old mistress.
I’m livid.
So every single time Damon raises his paddle for her, I bid a dollar higher.
Every. Single. Time.
Damon snaps.
He storms over, pulls a stack of photos from his jacket, and slams them onto the auction podium.
Naked photos.
Of me.
“You love stealing the spotlight, babe?” He grins into the mic. “Then bid on these. Knock yourself out.”
I max out every card I own.
He still has a thousand photos left.
He looks down at me, smiling. That sick, twisted smile that makes my stomach turn.
“Cora. On your knees. Right now.”
“Apologize to Vivian. Tell her you’re a shameless slut. And I’ll let this go.”
He leans in.
“Otherwise? I’m handing you over to the man who runs this place tonight.”
“He’s got a thing for married women.”
“The more you fight, the more he likes it.”
“When he’s bored, he passes you around to his crew.”
“By then, sweetheart? You won’t even have tears left.”
He shrugs.
“Company’s bleeding money anyway. Might as well get some cash out of you. It’s all you’re good for.”
He tilts his head. Still smiling.
“So? What’ll it be?”
He’s staring at me like the answer’s already in his pocket.
And I laugh.
Because Damon doesn’t know.
The man who runs this underground auction? The one every mob boss on the East Coast is terrified to even name?
That’s my father.
And when Daddy finds out what Damon just did to me?
Someone’s getting chopped into pieces. Fed to the dogs. One spoonful at a time.
1
I don’t say a word.
Damon’s face darkens.
He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back so hard my neck cracks.
“What, you go mute? You had plenty to say a minute ago.”
Vivian drapes herself over his chest, batting her lashes.
“Aww, baby. Sweetie’s mouth is so stubborn. Bet her bones are just as stiff. Let’s see how long they stay that way.”
“Why don’t we send her in? Trade her for that billion-dollar lot in Brooklyn.”
“Then we can throw the wedding of the century. Buy me that jewelry set from tonight’s headliner.”
Damon laughs. “Done.”
Then he turns back to me. Cold. Dead-eyed.
“Cora. You couldn’t even kneel. Fine.”
“Go in there and learn what real power looks like.”
“You better bring the same tricks you use in my bed. Make him happy.”
Happy.
Only an idiot like Damon would hand-deliver his own wife to her father’s bed.
He has no clue.
That “sadistic crime lord” upstairs — Vincent Whitmore — is my dad.
Seven years ago, some woman he’d hooked up with texted my mom to gloat. My mom lost it. Grabbed the keys. Drove into a thunderstorm.
She died on the highway that night.
My dad hunted the woman down. Cut her tendons. Tortured her to death.
Then he, the man the entire underworld is terrified of — knelt at my mother’s grave and beat his forehead against the stone until it bled.
He swore he’d atone for the rest of his life. Never remarry. Never touch another woman.
I didn’t forgive him.
I walked out of that house and never looked back.
Three years. Every month he wired me a fortune. I never touched a cent.
But here’s what they don’t know.
My dad has one weakness. Me.
Ever since Mom died, I’ve been his whole world.
And suddenly?
I can’t wait.
I can’t wait for him to walk through that door and see me like this.
I can’t wait to watch these two crawl.
Outside the cage, Damon just keeps going.
“Vivi, baby, if Cora hadn’t thrown herself at me like a desperate bitch? You think I’d have touched her once in three years? Made my skin crawl every damn time.”
“Everything I’ve built, I built alone. She’s not fit to tie your shoes.”
Alone.
I close my eyes.
My chest goes ice cold.
So that’s what I was to Damon. Some clueless orphan with a bank account.
Three years ago, his startup crashed. Loan sharks were at his throat. He crawled to me. Knelt at my feet. Kissed my shoes. Sobbed.
“Cora, baby, please. Just get me through this. I swear on my life — I’ll love you till the day I die.”
I didn’t want to believe anyone anymore.
But those eyes.
God, those eyes looked so real.
So I used the money my mother left me.
I called in every favor. Opened every door. Made every introduction.
I built him into Manhattan’s rising mogul.
And without me?
He’s nothing.
I smile. Slow. Cold.
Damon, you got real comfortable spending everything I gave you.
Now get ready to lose all of it.
He sees I’m not scared. His brow furrows. He tries again — like he’s doing me a favor.
“You’ve heard the stories about the guy in there, right?”
“Kneel. Apologize to Vivi. And I’ll be merciful.”
I laugh in his face.
I stare at him. My blood is singing. He’s walking himself off a cliff, and I couldn’t stop him if I tried.
“No apology.” My voice is flat. “You want to send me in? Send me in.”
Damon freezes. His eyes go wide, like I’ve lost my mind.
“You crazy bitch.”
Vivian covers her mouth and giggles.
“Wow, sweetie. Didn’t know you had ambitions. Brave girl.”
“Just a heads-up — he likes to hurt women. Try to last, okay?”
Damon pulls her closer. Sneers at me.
“Fine. Your choice.”
“Trade your body for our future. On our wedding day? We’ll light a candle for you.”
“Consider it a thank-you.”
They burst out laughing.
I laugh too.
Go ahead. Laugh while you can.
Because when that door opens? Neither of you will remember how.
Damon kicks me hard in the knee. Leans down. Voice low.
“Behave. In there. I mean it.”
“Don’t try anything stupid.”
Then he grabs my hair and drags me down the hallway.
We stop in front of a heavy crimson door.
Damon straightens up. All the swagger drains right out of him.
He bows to the guards on either side. Twice. Three times.
“Sirs. Please. I heard Mr. Whitmore himself is stopping by tonight, sir. I brought a little toy for him. Something to take the edge off. Please, sirs — just let us through, yeah? Just this once.”