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Too Late For Regret: The Mafia Don's Lost Wife Novel Cover

Too Late For Regret: The Mafia Don's Lost Wife

For five years, my husband Bennett refused to give me a child, claiming a "Blood Curse" would kill me during childbirth. I believed him. I thought his refusal was the ultimate act of love. That illusion shattered the day I found the surrogacy contract hidden in the gallery archives. There was no curse. There was just Aria—the mistress he paid to carry his legacy while I played the role of the immaculate, barren trophy wife. The truth turned violent when a massive steel sculpture snapped from the gallery ceiling. Bennett had a split second to choose who to save. He didn't look at me. He roared and dove to shield Aria, leaving me to be crushed by the falling beam. I lay bleeding on the marble floor, watching him frantically check her for scratches, completely ignoring my broken body. Even in the hospital, he didn't come. He was too busy playing house with the mother of his future heir. I didn't wait for an apology. I left my wedding ring on the table and vanished to Paris. Six months later, when Bennett finally found me and fell to his knees begging for a second chance, he didn't realize who he was talking to. I wasn't his wife anymore. I was the woman holding the hand of the rival billionaire who had just bought Bennett's empire out from under him.
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Chapter 8

Paris was a study in charcoal and rain, but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I rented a small apartment in the Marais.

I walked by the Seine.

I drank coffee that finally didn't taste like ashes.

For three weeks, I was just Kelsey.

And then, he found me.

I shouldn't have been surprised.

You don't just walk away from the Underboss.

I was coming back from the bakery, a baguette under my arm, when I saw him standing at my building's entrance.

He held a massive bouquet of white roses.

He looked violently out of place, his sharp Italian suit cutting a stark silhouette against the worn stone of the Parisian street.

"Kelsey," he said.

He looked relieved.

He looked like he thought this was the climax of a romantic movie.

"How did you find me?" I asked, not moving to take the flowers.

"I have resources," he said. "Why did you run? I was worried sick."

"Were you?"

"Of course. You're my wife." He stepped closer. "I know I've been... distracted. The business with the Russos took everything out of me. But I'm here now. I came to bring you home."

"I am home," I said.

He laughed, a dismissive sound. "This isn't home. This is a shoebox. Come on. I have a surprise for you."

He grabbed my hand.

I let him lead me.

I wanted to see how far the delusion went.

He took me to the river.

There was a private boat waiting at the quay.

It was decked out in lights and flowers.

Champagne on ice.

Violinists.

It was excessive.

It was Bennett.

"I want to start over," he said, pouring two glasses. "Just us. No business. No family. Just us."

He sounded sincere.

For a second, just a split second, my heart cracked.

Maybe he did care.

Maybe the near-death experience had changed him.

And then, the cabin door opened.

Aria stepped out.

She was wearing a white dress that looked aggressively bridal.

She held a glass of champagne.

"Surprise!" she squealed.

Bennett froze.

I looked at him.

He didn't look angry.

He looked... impressed.

"You planned this?" he asked her.

"Every detail," Aria said, walking over to wrap her arm around his waist. "I told you we needed to come get her. We need to be a family, Bennett. All of us. She needs to understand her place."

She looked at me with a sugary, venomous smile.

"I picked the flowers. I picked the boat. I even picked the music. Bennett just paid the bill."

My blood ran cold.

"You brought her?" I whispered to Bennett.

"She insisted," Bennett said, shrugging. "She wanted to make peace. She said you'd like the gesture."

"She planned your romantic gesture to win back your wife?"

"She has good taste," Bennett said defensively. "Kelsey, stop being difficult. Look at the effort she put in."

He was insane.

He was completely, utterly broken inside.

He didn't see a problem with his mistress planning his reconciliation with his wife.

"Look," Aria said, pulling a piece of paper from her clutch. "I even wrote your apology speech for you, Bennett. You always fumble with words."

She handed it to him.

He took it.

He smiled at her. "Thank you, baby. You always look out for me."

I felt the boat rock beneath my feet.

The violinists started playing a waltz.

Fireworks exploded over the Eiffel Tower.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Aria asked, leaning her head on Bennett's shoulder. "I did good."

"You did perfect," Bennett said.

He kissed the top of her head.

Then he looked at me, waiting for me to be grateful.

Waiting for me to fall in line.

I looked at the fireworks reflecting in the dark water.

I realized then that I wasn't fighting for my marriage anymore.

I was fighting for my sanity.