An accident. My daughter died, and I fell into a coma.

For three months, my husband never left my hospital bed.

Everyone said he loved me to death.

Until the day I pushed open the cracked door of the medical wing and heard the doctor's trembling voice.

"Don Carlos... using your biological daughter's heart to save your first love... if Madam finds out you orchestrated the explosion—"

"Then clean it up," Carlos cut him off, his tone dead flat. "Destroy the extraction marks on the corpse. As long as Angelina lives, sacrificing one kid is nothing. I can always make Isabella give me another."

My daughter didn't die in a rival gang's attack.

She was murdered by her own father. Gutted, so her heart could save the woman he truly loved.

The metallic taste of blood pooled in my mouth. I swallowed it down.

Carlos seemed to have forgotten.

Before I became his docile wife, I was the most lethal, cold-blooded assassin in the European Mafia.

If he thought sacrificing a child was nothing.

Then sacrificing a Mafia Don to bury with my daughter would be nothing at all.

~~~~~

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, forcing back the urge to walk in there and tear both of them apart with my bare hands.

Not yet.

I slipped back into my room, crawled under the covers, and closed my eyes.

Less than five minutes later, the door clicked open.

Carlos walked in.

He sat on the edge of the bed, gripping my cold hands tightly. His voice was thick with manufactured grief.

"Isabella, my love. I already have my men looking into it."

"I swear to you, the bastards who killed our Mia... I won't let a single one of them live."

His warm tears hit the back of my hand. Bile rose in my throat.

I fluttered my eyes open, playing the part of the broken, fragile wife.

"Carlos... you're all I have left."

He pulled me into his chest and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to my forehead.

"Don't be afraid. I'm right here."

Late that night.

After Carlos left, I ripped the IV from my hand. Slipping past the corridor guards like a ghost, I descended into the hospital's underground morgue.

I stopped in front of the freezer in the furthest corner. With trembling hands, I pulled out the drawer.

The moment I pulled back the white sheet, my chest caved in.

My Mia. Her tiny body was as pale as paper.

And right down the center of her chest was a crude, jagged Y-incision.

They hadn't even tried to hide it.

I dropped to my knees. A silent, agonizing scream tore through my throat.

My nails dug so deep into my palms that blood dripped onto the freezing tiles.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed.

A priority notification. Angelina had just posted an update.

In the photo, she wore a sexy red silk slip dress, looking flushed and radiant as she lounged on Carlos's custom leather sofa, swirling a glass of wine.

The caption was blinding:

[Blessed. This new heartbeat is so strong. Having you protect me is everything. @Carlos]

The comments were flooded with praise about her miraculous recovery and glowing complexion.

The screen's harsh light reflected off Mia's cold, dead face.

I stared at that smug smile on the screen, and the last trace of warmth in my blood froze over.

A blessing?

That was my daughter's life.

I stood up and leaned over, pressing my lips to Mia's icy forehead.

"Mommy's going to get justice for you, baby."

I pulled the sheet back over her and walked into the dark.

I didn't go back to my room.

Instead, I bypassed all surveillance and headed to an abandoned auto repair shop on the outskirts of Rome.

I pried up a dust-covered floorboard.

A black metal lockbox lay quietly in the dirt.

I punched in a code I hadn't touched in seven years.

The box popped open. Inside lay a custom satellite communicator.

Seven years.

I buried it here for Carlos, swearing to be a normal woman. A good wife. A good mother.

But now, Carlos was going to the grave with my daughter.

I pressed the red power button. The signal connected.

Three seconds later, heavy breathing came through the speaker, followed by unbridled elation.

"Boss?"

I ran my thumb over the cold metal casing.

"It's me. Send a team to pick me up immediately."