He Replaced His Wife And Lost His Mafia Empire Chapter 14
On my fourth day in the hospital, I was finally able to get out of bed for short periods.
The doctor said two toes on my right foot might never fully regain feeling. My fingers were recovering better, but they would still ache in the cold.
As my mother helped me pull on my socks, her tears fell onto the blanket.
My right foot was wrapped in thick bandages, yet I could still feel a stabbing pain.
The doctor said that for years to come, I would have to avoid cold environments. Skiing and winter hiking—things I had once loved—might no longer be possible.
Dominic’s lesson hadn’t left me with an illness that would vanish in a few days.
It had changed my body. It had changed the way I would face winter for the rest of my life.
When Miles heard that, his hands clenched into fists.
“I want to leave him in that boathouse for one night, too.”
“That won’t fix anything for me.”
I looked at my brother.
“And don’t have him killed for me.”
“I want him stripped of every right he has over me, and I want him to face the consequences of losing his allies and his position. Beyond that, I decide.”
Slowly, Miles unclenched his hands.
“All right. You decide.”
He had enough men and enough weapons to make Dominic suffer far more. But he was still willing to leave the choice in my hands.
That kind of protection was nothing like Dominic’s control.
When someone is truly on your side, they don’t decide for you what revenge should look like. They give you back the right to decide your own life.
My mother said quietly, “You never told us any of this before.”
She wasn’t just talking about the frostbite.
For the past five years, every time I called home, I told them I was fine.
I never told my parents that Dominic brought other women home. I never told them the Moretti family barred me from the gatherings that actually determined status.
I was afraid that if I admitted I was unhappy, then the girl who had married him against everyone’s advice would become a joke.
“I’m sorry.”
My mother pulled me into her arms.
“You don’t have to apologize for marrying the wrong man.”
She stroked my back gently.
“Only for thinking you had to suffer alone for so long when you still had a home to come back to.”
That afternoon, Miles showed me a hallway security recording from the hospital.
Dominic stood outside, blocked by the guards, his face dark with a kind of humiliation he had likely never known before.
My brother asked, “Feel any better after seeing that?”
I shook my head, then nodded.
I didn’t feel joy at seeing Dominic brought low.
What eased me was something else entirely: someone had finally made it clear to him that my refusal mattered.
Miles put his phone away.
“Leave the rest to the advisers. You just heal.”
I looked out at the snow.
Chicago was still cold.
But this time, someone was holding my hand in the hospital room, and someone else was guarding the door.