Blood was already running down my legs when my husband’s final text appeared on my phone: “Getting married in Cabo. You’re on your own.” Thirty-two weeks pregnant with twins, abandoned, stripped of my money, and fighting to keep my babies alive, I had no idea that the most feared mafia boss in Boston was about to appear outside my operating room—and say the words my husband never deserved to hear.

Dominic fired his weapon with terrifying speed and lethal precision.

The three masked assassins collapsed to the floor before they could even pull their triggers.

He grabbed my arm gently but firmly, pulling me out of the hospital bed despite my immense surgical pain.

He wrapped a thick wool blanket around my bleeding body and practically carried me into the dark hallway.

The hospital corridors had turned into a chaotic warzone of screaming nurses and flying bullets.

Dominic’s loyal men formed a protective shield around us, firing back at the rival cartel assassins.

I cried out for my babies, terrified that the attackers would breach the neonatal intensive care unit.

Dominic promised me that his top enforcers had already secured the twins in mobile transport incubators.

We fought our way down the emergency stairwell, stepping over shattered glass and broken bodies.

A massive armored vehicle was waiting for us at the edge of the underground loading dock.

Dominic shoved me into the backseat just as a hail of bullets shattered the bulletproof windows.

The driver slammed on the gas, tearing through the city streets at a terrifying, reckless speed.

We drove for over an hour until we reached a heavily fortified stone mansion hidden deep in the snowy woods.

Armed guards opened the massive iron gates, allowing our battered vehicle to rush inside.

Dominic carried me into the grand foyer of his lavish estate, shouting for his private medical team.

I finally felt a fleeting moment of safety as the heavy steel doors locked behind us.

That false sense of security vanished the moment we walked into the main living room.

Sitting casually on the expensive leather sofa was my treacherous husband, Mark.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

He was holding a silver revolver directly against the head of a terrified, bound woman.

The hostage was Dominic’s younger sister.

Chapter 4 - The Fortress