He Replaced His Wife And Lost His Mafia Empire Chapter 02
I met Dominic when we were both in college in New York.
He came from Chicago’s Moretti family. Hotels and casinos were the face they showed the world; behind the scenes, their power came from cash lending and protection rackets.
I came from California. The Costa family controlled several shipping routes on the West Coast, with our own land and companies, but I lacked my brother Miles’s sharp edges.
After graduation, I got my auditing license. I was never one for giving orders; I was better at finding the cracks in messy ledgers and remembering what people truly needed.
Margaret couldn’t eat anything too sweet, so I adjusted the menu before dinner parties. Dominic’s father and two uncles had hated each other for years, and I was the only one who could get them through a full dinner at the same table. When a hole appeared in the family’s clean books, I was the one who convinced Miles to leverage the Costa family’s name to guarantee them a loan with a neutral party.
Dominic used to hold me and tell me that this was exactly the kind of wife he needed—someone who could keep both his house and his family in order.
It wasn’t an arranged marriage.
Both our families were pleased with the match, but when we stood at the altar and said “I do,” we were in love.
Then, in the first month of our marriage, his affair with an actress made the news.
When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it.
“Moretti men are never tied down by marriage,” he’d said. “If you want to stay my wife, you’ll stop making scenes. The boss’s wife can’t be a public joke.”
There was another unwritten rule in the Moretti family: women could patch holes for the family, but they could never sit at the table where real power was decided.
Dominic replacing me in public every year wasn’t just about humiliating me.
He was also telling his men that my Costa name, my professional skills, and all the advantages I brought to the marriage would never be enough to change that rule.
At the first winter dinner, he deliberately left Chicago with that woman, leaving me alone in our apartment.
I drove through a snowstorm to Lake Geneva, only to be stopped by his guards at the gate.
My brother called me from California in the middle of the night.
“Say the word,” he said, “and I’ll be on a plane to get you.”
I refused.
I stubbornly believed Dominic loved me and just needed time to learn how to be faithful.
In the end, Miles made a five-year deal with me.
“You keep talking about patience. Fine. I’ll give you five years.”
“In those five years, if he treats you like his wife, even once, I’ll stay out of it.”
“But if five years pass and he’s still humiliating you with other women, you come home.”
I agreed.
The first year, I thought next time would be different.
The second year, I started learning every visible and hidden rule of the Moretti family.
The third year, I put my audit work on hold and took over family gatherings and the charity foundation, hoping Margaret would finally accept me.
In the fourth year, when the old boss stepped down, Dominic was set to take over. But his two uncles thought him too arrogant and refused to sign the loyalty papers.
I flew alone to three different cities and spent hours talking to each of them.
I didn’t exaggerate Dominic’s abilities. I only promised that from then on, the use of family assets would be recorded in the internal ledgers, no longer decided by one man’s whim. Every captain would be able to see the numbers that concerned him.
In the end, they agreed to support him.
At the dinner celebrating his succession, Dominic thanked his father, his grandmother, and every captain who had sworn loyalty.
He never mentioned me.
When we got home, he gave me an expensive bracelet.
“Married people don’t keep score,” he said.
At the time, I believed him.
Later, whenever conflict broke out within the family, he sent me to handle it. But whenever he faced allies or subordinates, he made me stand quietly in the back.
The things I did were a wife’s duty.
Sloane logged tribute payments for him once, accompanied him to one meeting, and she got public thanks.
I didn’t suddenly decide to leave because of one portrait.
That photograph simply laid our entire relationship bare.
This year was the fifth year.
Dominic had never learned loyalty.
He had only upgraded the woman taking my place—from a random socialite to his executive assistant, the one who carried his private seal and delivered his orders every day.
After the portrait, I went back to my room and sent Miles that message.
His reply was almost immediate.
*Pack your things.*
*I’m coming to get you.*