Too Late To Love: The Don's Dying Wife

rest moment, I sudden

n the Mafia and married

d he loved m

different women home, delibe

tears, and never disturbed h

, kissing me fiercely and deman

now I was s

ng his revenge on me, I was

pte

stained the color of rust with t

enough to see the cherry blossoms

poor. Seizures. Memory loss. Gradual l

ould be

lion's den and beg the husband who loathed me fo

n as papyrus, and felt as if the slightest pressure might

he translucent, yellowe

violet shadows that no amount

et I looked like a ghost haun

counter, the vibration a jarring intru

ting up with a headline that screamed: The Don and his Mu

ting of jealousy,

ergy, and my body ha

that seemed to originate from the very cent

nal i

f death, but I di

t more on the black market than a luxury

accounts w

iked to control me with money because he r

it tight around me. I had to hide the fact tha

f my bones, he might mistake my

se, the beating heart

po dei Capi. A monolith of glass and steel, bui

guards at the entranc

echoing on the polished floor. My joints screamed in prot

I was Elena Vitiell

ate elevator to

to the executive sui

a Ro

xecutive assistant's des

ecretary. She

ration, a message to every gossip columnist

, her eyes brig

finally thawed o

ed. My voice was ste

n the leather chair that was far too big for he

at I am his wife

nows I'm the one he comes home to. Well, the hom

her, really

ing with obn

d with life, her ha

before the lies and the sickness

ing her head with mock concern. "Like a corpse. Ma

nce room, and for a full three seconds I did no

ht. I looke

ow how literal th

ped forward from the

low and dangerous. "She is still the Don's wife

s, unfazed. "For now

r

t, she w

through divorce, but through