The mafia boss chose me as his decoy—a body double for the woman he loves.
Eight years. Three bullets, one car crash, one explosion. The doctor said ten more minutes and I would've died on that operating table when they took my kidney. I gave him a son. He let me play "the boss's wife" in public.
Until he cleared every obstacle for her and decided to marry her.
Her wedding photos replaced mine in the master bedroom. He has her initials tattooed on his arm. When I questioned him, he had his men slap me at a charity gala, forced me to admit "I'm just a stand-in." When I touched her, he took away my custody, declared she was "the true lady of this house."
The punishments got worse. When he threatened to cancel my mother's insurance, I finally learned to shut up.
He pulls me close, whispers in my ear: "She gave up everything for me. Not like you—you were born to take bullets for me."
"Deal with it. She's not replacing you. This is her house now."
Even my son took her side.
"Stop being dramatic! Natalie actually loves us! You're nothing!"
But their pure, innocent Natalie? She unplugged my mother's ventilator while I was locked in the basement. Let his enemies slip poison into my drink during the last job.
When Grayson found me, all he said was: "She's pregnant and emotional. Go rearrange the flowers at the wedding venue."
I wipe the black blood from my lips. Look at him quietly.
"I'm dying."
