My Mafia Boss husband abandoned me while I was giving birth because his mistress was delivering his son one floor away.

by

Chapter 25

THEME:
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"Mommy!" Emily beamed, hugging me tightly around the waist. "Are we going home to Boston now?"

I kissed the top of her dark head, smelling the sweet, innocent scent of her shampoo, feeling the warm, steady rhythm of her heart against mine.

"Yes, my sweet girl," I whispered, tears of profound relief filling my eyes. "We're going home."

Madison pulled away from the curb, driving us directly toward Chicago's O'Hare International Airport.

An hour later, we were sitting in the private departure lounge near our gate. The rain outside had stopped, replaced by rays of pale golden sunlight breaking through the dispersing gray clouds. Emily was sitting at a low table, happily coloring in a drawing book, her gray eyes focused with intense concentration.

My phone vibrated on the marble side table. It was a text message from Madison, who had gone to return our rental car.

*“Claire, look at the news channel on the lounge TV right now.”*

I glanced up at the large flat-screen television mounted above the lounge bar. The screen displayed a breaking news banner in bold red letters:

**CHICAGO SYNDICATE SHOCKWAVE: MASSIVE ARRESTS AND INTERNAL PURGE**

The news anchor's voice filled the quiet lounge.

*"In an unprecedented series of events unfolding across the Chicago metropolitan area, federal authorities and local law enforcement have executed over thirty arrest warrants targeting high-ranking members of the Moretti organization, including prominent business figure Arthur Bennett and underboss Julian Rossi."*

I stared at the screen in absolute disbelief. The federal authorities?

The news anchor continued: *"According to leaked official documents, the entire evidence package—containing decades of encrypted financial records, tax evasion schemes, and syndicate operational logs—was anonymously surrendered to the United States Department of Justice at noon today by Vincent Moretti himself."*

My breath caught sharply in my throat.

Vincent had turned over his own empire. He had surrendered his entire syndicate to the federal government.

The screen shifted to a live camera feed outside the federal courthouse in downtown Chicago.

A fleet of black government vehicles was parked in front of the stone steps. Surrounded by dozens of federal agents, Vincent Moretti walked down the steps in handcuffs. He wore a crisp dark suit, his head held high, his posture dignified and unflinching as news cameras flashed wildly from every direction.

As he reached the back door of the armored federal transport vehicle, Vincent paused.

He turned his head slowly, looking directly into the main news broadcast camera lens.

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