His Ex-Fiancée Returned to Humiliate Her—The Mafia Boss Stood Up and Called Her “My Wife”

The private airfield was desolate, illuminated only by a few flickering halogen lights. A sleek, white Gulfstream jet sat on the tarmac, its engines whining as they powered up.

Dominic’s convoy killed their headlights, rolling silently up to the perimeter fence.

Through a pair of binoculars, Clara could see Victoria standing near the boarding stairs, clutching a designer bag, yelling at a pilot. Standing beside her was Falcone, nervously checking his watch.

"They're preparing for takeoff," Marco noted from the driver's seat.

"Take out the landing gear," Dominic ordered his sniper.

A suppressed shot echoed through the night. The front tire of the Gulfstream violently exploded, the heavy aircraft tilting forward and grinding into the asphalt.

Victoria screamed, dropping her bag. Falcone drew his weapon, looking frantically around the dark airfield.

Dominic’s SUVs flipped their high beams on simultaneously, blinding the traitors in a flood of harsh white light. The armored vehicles smashed through the chain-link fence, surrounding the plane in a perfect circle.

Dozens of armed men poured out, weapons leveled.

Dominic stepped out of the lead vehicle, moving with slow, terrifying purpose. Clara walked right beside him, her head held high.

"Going somewhere, Victoria?" Dominic called out, his voice echoing across the tarmac.

Falcone raised his gun, aiming at Dominic, but before he could even pull the trigger, three of Dominic’s men fired. Falcone collapsed onto the concrete, dead before he hit the ground.

Victoria shrieked, backing up against the side of the crippled jet. She was completely alone, surrounded by the men she had tried to betray.

"Dominic, please!" Victoria begged, tears ruining her perfect makeup. "It was Falcone! He forced me to do it! He said if I didn't help him, he would kill my family!"

"You've always been a terrible liar, Victoria," Dominic said coldly.