My Husband Whispered About His Pregnant Mistress in His Sleep, So I Destroyed Him While He Was Awake

My good baby boy. Pap will buy you and your mamma a house of your own.

It was three in the morning when those words slipped from my husband's lips. We always used protection. Then whose baby was he dreaming about? I shot awake, my heart pounding.

I shook him hard. What did you just say?

He stirred, eyes still shut, and muttered, "Just a nightmare. An associate was leaning on me for what he's owed."

Then he rolled over, drifting back into sleep.

I didn't push. Instead I reached for my phone in the dark and quietly opened his banking app. Dated three months back, there was a wire transfer of fifty thousand, marked as a down payment. The recipient was Gina Calloway.

I searched her name and found her socials. The first thing on her feed was an ultrasound photo.

[Our little angel is three months now. Daddy says once you're born, we'll move into a big house.]

The timestamp was the day after Marco sent the money. My chest clenched, but I snapped a screenshot and sent it straight to my father.

[Pap, the perfect man you chose for me didn't just break faith. He's put a child in some woman. I'm going to make certain he walks away with nothing.]

His reply came almost instantly:

[That bastard. Don't worry, tesoro. I'll put Barone on it before the sun's up. He disrespected our blood under my own roof. I'll make him regret the day he was born.]

Feeling sick to my stomach, I scrolled deeper into Gina's feed.

One month ago: [We just locked down our new place today! It's gorgeous. Thank you, my love, for giving me and our baby such a warm home.]

Attached was a photo of her at a realtor's office, glowing in a fitted maternity dress, her arm looped through Marco's. He held her by the waist, gazing at her with a tenderness I'd never once seen turned toward me.

Two months ago: [My love says he cares for me and our baby more than anything in this world. Tonight's steak was divine.]

The photo was taken at one of the fine restaurants the Family's money kept afloat, Kobe beef plated like a small work of art. I remembered that night. I'd suggested marking my promotion at that very place, and Marco had frowned and called it too rich for the occasion. He'd insisted we order in and stay home instead.

Three months ago: [Two red lines. Baby, you came at the perfect time. Mamma and Pap are ready for you.]

The picture showed their hands laced together over her stomach.

Every post cut me like a blade.

I cried silently into my pillow, tears soaking through the fabric. Beside me, Marco slept like a baby, a faint smile on his mouth, no doubt dreaming himself back into that happy little family. I stared at that lying face and whatever love I had left curdled into pure hatred.

Marco Ruggiero, you think you can keep this from me? I, Adriana Vitale, am not a woman to be trifled with.

I slipped out of bed, padded to the study, and opened my laptop. As the only blood of the Vitale Family, I had more than enough reach to erase him. But first I needed to know exactly who Gina Calloway was. One of my father's trusted soldiers had the details to me within hours.

Gina Calloway, twenty-three. A nobody from a working-class block on the wrong side of the river. Currently a hostess at the social club Marco's crew ran. Parents worked with their hands for an honest wage. In short, an ambitious girl with nothing, hungry to claw her way up by getting under another woman's husband.

The more I read, the worse it got. She'd taken the job at the club six months after our wedding. Which meant she'd set her sights on a married made man from the start.

What a conniving little tramp.

The next morning, Marco woke me gently, the same as always.

"Breakfast's ready," he said, kissing my forehead. "I've got an important sit-down today. Might be home late."

I forced a smile. "All right. Do what you have to do."

A flicker of something crossed his eyes, suspicion, maybe. He hadn't expected me to let it go so easily. His tongue touched his lower lip, and for half a breath his glance slid toward the bedroom door before it came back to me.

"And, uh, I might be tied up the next few days too. Don't read into it, okay?"

"Of course," I said sweetly, laughing bitterly somewhere behind my ribs. Tied up playing the devoted father at prenatal appointments, more like.

The moment Marco's car cleared the compound gates, I had my driver take me to the Ruggiero social club. As a daughter of the Vitale blood, I needed no reason to walk through those doors. The whole crew survived on my father's protection. The moment I crossed into the lounge, I saw her. Seated behind the hostess stand.

Gina Calloway looked even fresher in person. Long hair, bright eyes, innocence painted all over her face. The type of girl no one would ever suspect of seducing another woman's husband.

"Good evening. Who are you here to see?" she asked with a sweet smile.

"I'm here for Marco," I said, letting my gaze move over her without hurry. The loose blouse couldn't hide the small but noticeable swell beneath it.

"Mr. Ruggiero is in the back with the crew. And you are?"

"Adriana Ruggiero." I let the name settle in the quiet between us.

Instantly, her face drained of color. Of course she knew me. I'm Marco's lawful wife, the Don's only blood.

"Of course, M-Mrs. Ruggiero. Please, sit, I'll let him know right away." She snatched up the phone.

I heard her whisper into it, her voice thin with nerves. "Mr. Ruggiero, your wife is here."

A minute later Marco came out from the backroom, past a soldier who straightened as he passed. He crossed the floor toward me with a strange, forced smile.

"Honey, what are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes cutting sideways toward Gina.

"Just wanted to see the place. Maybe steal you for supper." I slid my hand into the crook of his arm, easy as anything.

"Perfect. Let's go up." He was all too eager to get me off that floor.

In the elevator he stood a little too close to the doors. I feigned idle curiosity. "That girl at the front's pretty. How old is she?"

"No idea. One of the new hostesses. I don't pay attention to those things," he answered, a beat too fast. His tongue touched his lower lip, and his eyes flicked to the elevator panel like a man measuring the distance to a door.

"Of course." I nodded, laughing at him behind my own eyes.

Over supper I asked whether the rackets were wearing on him, whether he was run down. He ate the food I'd packed and gave me a grateful smile. "You're so good to me, honey. Having you as my wife is the best thing in my life."

If only I could put the fork in my hand through his throat.

"Oh," I added lightly, "an associate mentioned a fine new development going up across the river. Maybe we should look at it."

Marco went still with the food halfway to his mouth. "Why? Something wrong with the house your father gave us?"

"Nothing. It's just small. I worry it won't be enough once there are children," I said, letting the word land.

His jaw set, the strain plain on his face. "Let's not rush into children. Besides, cash flow's tight right now."

Funny. Cash flow hadn't been tight when he bought his mistress an apartment.

"You're right. Let's not rush anything," I said smoothly, folding my disgust down out of sight. The rot in him was showing plainer by the hour.

I rose with the excuse of the powder room. Coming back, I took the long way past the hostess stand. Gina was murmuring with two of the other girls.

"The baby's healthy. The doctor says end of the year," she said, glowing.

"You're so lucky," one gushed. "Your man's amazing. Buying you a place, treating you like a princess."

"He promised to marry me once the baby comes," Gina added, and her face shone with it.

Marry her. He hadn't spoken a word about dissolving our union, and already he was planning a wedding with his whore.

Her eyes lifted and found me. The color left her face.

"M-Mrs. Ruggiero," she stammered, coming to her feet.

I walked over, smiling sweetly. "Gina, isn't it? Congratulations on the baby."

"T-thank you, Mrs. Ruggiero." Her voice shook, and her hand moved to her belly, turning the ring on her finger once, as if to steady herself against something no one else could see.

"The father treats you well?" I asked, watching her squirm.

"He yes. He treats me well." She said it quickly, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Good. Then cherish it." I let the pause stretch. "Only be careful. Some men aren't the kind you build a family on."

I held her gaze one beat longer. Then I smoothed an invisible crease from my sleeve with a slow pass of my thumb, turned on my heel, and walked away.

Walking out of Marco's social club, I drew in a long breath of cold air.

Gina Calloway, you really think hiding in the shadows means I can't touch you? You'll learn soon enough what it means to cross the Don's blood.

That night, Marco came home late, reeking of whiskey and a woman's perfume that wasn't mine.

"Sit-down with an associate. Had to drink with them to keep the tribute flowing," he muttered, hiccupping as he kicked off his shoes. He wet his lower lip and shot a glance toward the door before he added, "I'll go shower."

The phone he'd left on the marble console lit up in the dark. I read it without touching my expression.

Gina: [Baby, the checkup went well. The doctor says everything's good. And it's a boy!]

Marco: [That's amazing. I'll have a son. Tomorrow I'll take you shopping for the baby.]

Gina: [You're the best, baby. I love you.]

Marco: [I love you and our baby. Once he's here, we'll be a real family.]

Disgust twisted in my stomach. I had to fight the urge to throw up. They'd already planned everything, right down to the day I, the wife bound to him by my father's blood, was supposed to step quietly aside. Over my dead body.

I slid his phone back into place just as he came out of the bathroom, steam curling behind him. My lips curved into the sweetest smile I could muster.

"Seems like you've had a lot of sit-downs lately. You've been working so hard, honey," I murmured, stepping close, my fingers kneading his shoulders.

He sighed with satisfaction, eyes half-lidded. "It's all for our future."

"By the way," I said casually, "I had a little talk with the girl who works the front of your club today. I think she's pregnant."

His body stiffened instantly. His tongue moved over his lower lip, and his eyes flicked toward the bedroom door before they came back to me. "Really? Didn't notice."

"Probably because it's still early. Three or four months along, maybe," I added, baiting him.

"Girls in that neighborhood are careless. No respect for themselves," he muttered after clearing his throat, scrambling for an excuse.

I fought the urge to scoff. "Well, I hope whatever man got her is a decent one. Otherwise... poor thing." A thin smile on my lips, showing just enough sympathy.

"Yeah... he'd better be," Marco mumbled, sweat forming at his temple.

The next day, I sent one of my father's most trusted soldiers to follow them. Marco took Gina to an expensive maternity boutique on the safe side of the river, well away from Ruggiero territory where a made man might be seen. They wandered through aisles of pastel cribs and tiny shoes, laughing like newlyweds. In one photograph, Marco's hand rested on her waist, the other brushing tenderly over her swollen stomach, his gaze soft and tender, the way he used to look at me when my father first sealed the alliance between our bloodlines. And then he walked her into a jeweler's and slipped a two-thousand-dollar diamond onto her finger, as if to mock me.

When we married, I told him not to spend too much on my ring. He'd cried, said I was the most understanding woman alive. Now he could hand over two grand for his mistress without blinking.

I saved every photograph. Evidence for the dissolution.

That afternoon, I went to the shopping district, the same streets Gina was known to walk, under the pretense of buying clothes. I spotted her in a caf, chatting with a friend. I ordered a coffee and took the corner seat, near enough to catch every word.

"Gina, are you sure you want to keep this going?" her friend asked. "He's married."

"So what?" Gina scoffed, stroking her bump. "He doesn't even love her. He only married her because her family runs everything. He told me once the baby's born, he'll cut her loose."

Her friend frowned. "But what if he's lying?"

"He's not. Look at how he treats me. He bought me this ring, it's worth two grand by the way, and he set me up in a condo. A man doesn't spend that on a woman unless he loves her." She turned the diamond once around her finger and flashed it like a crown jewel.

The friend hesitated. "Still... what if his wife finds out?"

Gina laughed, smug and careless. "So what if she does? I'm carrying his son. That's my ultimate bargaining chip. Men want an heir, one from their own blood. He'll never abandon me or the baby."

Then she said it, words that almost made me snap right there.

"That old hag he married. Three years and she hasn't given him a single child. Meanwhile I get pregnant with a son on the first try. Who do you think he'll choose?"

Old hag? That little bitch really had the nerve. I nearly walked over and slapped her clean across the face. Instead I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay put and listen.

"He promised me," Gina gushed, eyes shining, "that once the baby comes he'll bring us out into the open. I'll be Mrs. Ruggiero. Raised into the Family. I'll finally have money, respect, and I'll never have to bow my head to anyone again."

Her friend bit her lip. "Does Adriana know about you?"

"Of course not," Gina giggled. "Marco's careful. He never slips. But even if she finds out, so what? She doesn't have his child. I do. That makes me the winner."

Enough. I couldn't listen another second. I stood, my chair scraping back. Out on the street, I smoothed an invisible crease from my sleeve with one slow pass of my thumb, and dialed my father.

"Dad, let's do it," I said, my voice steel.