Page 92 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

My finger hovers over the Play button while Bronx and Reign continue talking strategy, their voices fading into white noise. I almost delete it without listening.

Almost.

But something stops me.

I hit play and lift the phone to my ear.

"Hey… it's your wife."

Her voice is soft, broken. Nothing like the defiant woman who used to challenge me at every turn. The sound of it lances my heart like tiny razor blades, tiny slices that make me wince with every syllable she speaks.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth. All of it. I never wanted to lie to you. I swear to God, Kingston."

I stand up from the table, walking to the window while her words pour through the speaker, like a soothing balm on my wounded soul.

Bronx and Reign's conversation continues behind me, but I can't hear anything except her voice.

"Truth is, you scare the hell out of me. Not because of what you are or the power you carry. You scare me because when I look at you, I don't see a monster anymore. I see a man who never hurt me… a husband who tried."

My free hand presses against the glass, the city lights blurring. My head drops, eyes absently watching cars zoom down the street.

They blur together, colors fading to gray as my heart sinks deeper in my chest at the loss.

"What I said to my ma… That wasn't for me. That was for her to repeat to my da. That was strategy. Me trying to figure it out."

Strategy. She was trying to protect me, not plan my murder. And I was too fucking angry to see it.

"I could never hurt you, Kingston. And I sure as hell won't let anyone else."

The words hit me like a freight train going at full speed.My lungs tighten and I scrape a hand down the front of my face.

She wasn't planning to kill me. She was trying to find a way out. And instead of helping her, I threw her away like she meant nothing.

I pushed away the best thing that ever happened to me.

"I'm in love with you, Kingston Viacava. I guess that doesn't matter to you anymore."

The voicemail cuts off abruptly, not with a goodbye but like something interrupted her. Like she was cut off mid-sentence.

My blood turns to ice.

"Bronx." My voice cuts through their conversation like the sharpest knife. "I need you to trace a call."

He looks up, cigarette dangling from his lips. "What kind of call?"

"My wife's location. Now."

"K, what's going on?" Reign asks, but I'm already moving toward Bronx's computers.

"Something's wrong. That voicemail—it was from Livvie. But she got cut off. She didn't hang up."

Bronx is already typing, fingers flying over the keyboard. Thank fuck he picked up some tech tricks from his hacker buddy.

"When was the call?"

I check the timestamp. "Twenty minutes ago."

"Got it." His screen fills with data. "Call originated from…" He pauses, frowning. "Downtown. In the Financial District.”