My Mafia Husband Saved His Mistress While I Bled Pregnant Upstairs—Three Years Later, One Nursery Recording Exposed Why He Chose the Wrong Woman My husband heard gunfire inside our mansion, saw two paths in front of him—and chose to save his mistress while I was bleeding upstairs with his unborn son.

Adrien’s Perspective.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I tore down the coastal highway at a hundred miles an hour. It was Simone.

I let it ring, clutching the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

It rang again. I answered it, putting it on speaker, forcing my voice into a calm, emotionless mask.

"Adrien, where are you?" Simone asked, her voice laced with a subtle panic. "I went to the bunker. The guards wouldn't let me in. They said Victor is down there."

"He breached protocol, Simone," I lied effortlessly. "I'm dealing with it."

"Dealing with it how? Adrien, you need to talk to me. We are partners in this."

Partners. The word made me want to vomit.

"Are we, Simone?" I asked quietly.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. She was smart. She could hear the shift in my tone, the absolute lack of warmth. The predator inside her was waking up, realizing the trap had been sprung.

"Did you find something, Adrien?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave, losing the soft, supportive facade she had worn for years.

"I found a ghost," I said softly. "And she had a very interesting story to tell."

I hung up the phone and threw it out the window, watching it shatter into a hundred pieces on the asphalt.

She knew. Simone would rally her loyalists in the syndicate within the hour. She would try to stage a hostile takeover to save her own life. But none of that mattered right now.