Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Weaving into the back of the bar, I grabbed curry chips and a Coke and dragged my way up the stairs, contemplating knocking on Tierney’s door.
I loved Imma, but she’d never relate to me. In her view, Tiernan was a splendid husband. He gave me a credit card and no blue marks on my body. The rest, to her, was just white noise.
Mafia wars?
Seedy neighborhood?
Unspoken feelings?
All pesky female delicacies I shouldn’t worry myself with as long as he kept me lavishly clothed and safe.
My phone vibrated in my pocket with a message. I pulled it out.
Tiernan: Found a great audiologist. He specializes in cochlear implants. We are seeing him Tuesday.
Tuesday was three days from now.
It was his way of pacifying me, and it didn’t work at all. I had a belly full of baby he refused to acknowledge and a husband who was going to fly off to Vegas in a few days to engage in semiautomatic weapon carnage. Not to mention he was taking two of my brothers, my own flesh and blood, with him. My lack of hearing was the least of my problems right now.
Tangled in a web of my own thoughts, I pushed the door open, my boots landing on something smooth and slippery. I raised my foot and frowned down at it.
An envelope.
An envelope addressed to me.
To: Raffaella Ferrante
My name was handwritten in cursive. My pulse quickened, and I bent down to retrieve it, my swollen belly making it almost impossible to do so.
I put the curry chips on the table, examining the simple white letter between my fingers.
I’d never received any mail here. All my medical and occupational therapy correspondence arrived at my parents’ house. And I never received personal mail, period. This didn’t look like a bill.
And there was another thing that made the back of my throat burn with bile.
Ferrante.
I wasn’t a Ferrante anymore. I was a Callaghan. It seemed deliberate and wicked. A way to remind me my marriage was one of convenience, not love.
I broke the seal, retrieving the letter inside it.
Raffaella,
I know your dirty secret. The one you and your husband are trying to hide from the world.
I know about your bastard child.
If you want your marriage to survive and your secret to remain this way, meet me at a place of my choosing next week.
Bring 150K in cash.
Come alone.
Wait for further instructions for location, and DON’T tell your husband.
If you don’t do as I say, you and the baby will die.
My back hit the wall, and I sucked in a breath, my lungs burning with panic.
Whoever wrote this had intimate knowledge of our lives.
Very few people knew about what happened to me the night of Luca’s wedding. And up until a second ago, I thought all of them were allies.
Who could know this? Who could be privy to this kind of information?
Tiernan had spies monitoring his enemies’ every move. What made me think his rivals didn’t do the same?
There was no address from the sender. Which seemed to confirm it was slipped under the door, not sent via post. This made me even more nervous. Who could have access to this place? It was swarming with Irish soldiers twenty-four seven.
Whoever wrote this had skills and technique, access to the depths of the Irish and Italian operation.
And they were right. If word got out that the baby in my stomach wasn’t Tiernan’s, he would leave me. He’d have to.
But…why risk death and deliver this letter? More importantly, why now?
Why not when we first got married?
The pregnancy would soon come to fruition. The baby was almost here. And it was clear Tiernan and I had become more than just an arrangement. We both had something to lose now—each other.
I pressed my hand to my belly. The baby kicked hard, rioting against the quick thrashing of my heart, the panic coursing through my system.
Tiernan wasn’t going to like this letter.
Understatement of the year. He was going to tear the entire world apart.
It would likely distract him from his operation with the Russians, which demanded all of his attention.
And yet, I couldn’t handle this on my own.
…or could I?
It seemed straightforward. Bribery happened all the time in the underworld.
And 150K wasn’t even an unattainable amount of money. Enzo would give it to me in cash, no questions asked. All I needed was to pay the money and make the person shut up.
Would they, though?
My head began to spin. I sank down to the floor, burying my face in my hands.
I needed a plan.
And then I needed a plan B.
But I wasn’t going to lose them.
Not the baby, and not my husband.
I was going to fight with everything I had to keep them.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
LILA
Three days later, we visited the hearing specialist.
Dr. Castile was a man in his sixties, with Santa Claus’s white beard and eyebrows to match, rosy cheeks, and a sturdy figure. He took great care while checking my ears and going over my blood work and test results.