My father traded me to a mob boss to settle a $2 million gambling debt. Six minutes after I signed the marriage papers, my husband’s car blew up. The guests called me a black widow. Said I’d cursed him.
His brother wanted the estate and planned to send both kids away. The little girl hugged her one-eared stuffed bunny. “Are you my new mommy?”
I thought of the boiler room my stepmother made me sleep in. I couldn’t walk away.
Still in my red wedding dress, I walked into the dining room and took the Don’s seat before his brother could. Three men reached for their guns.
I smiled. “Go on. Shoot me on my wedding day.”
