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.

The freezing ocean wind whipped across my face as I crept through the stacked shipping containers.

I could see Mark standing at the very edge of the wooden pier, holding his remote detonator.

Dominic was walking slowly toward him, his hands raised to show he was completely unarmed.

Mark began mocking Dominic, insulting the mafia boss for throwing his empire away over a worthless woman.

I stepped out from the shadows, aiming the heavy pistol directly at my husband's back.

“The only worthless person here is you, Mark,” I screamed over the roaring ocean waves.

Mark spun around, his eyes widening in absolute shock when he saw me holding a loaded weapon.

He quickly recovered his arrogance, laughing at the sight of his recovering, bleeding wife holding a gun.

He taunted me, claiming I was too weak and pathetic to ever pull the trigger.

I thought about the babies fighting for their lives, the betrayal, and the innocent people he had hurt.

My finger tightened firmly on the trigger, and a deafening gunshot echoed across the dark water.

The bullet struck Mark squarely in the shoulder, spinning him violently around as he screamed in agony.

Before I could fire a second shot, the shipping containers around us suddenly burst open.

Dozens of Russian mercenaries poured out into the open, raising their assault rifles toward me.

Mark had set a massive trap, using himself as bait to draw all of us out into the open.

Dominic roared in fury, tackling me to the wooden planks just as a hail of bullets shredded the air where I had been standing.

Dominic’s own hidden enforcers arrived simultaneously, turning the docks into an absolute bloodbath.

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

Through the chaotic storm of gunfire, I saw Mark crawling desperately toward the edge of the pier.

He was bleeding heavily, but his hand was clutching a live military fragmentation grenade.

Chapter 8 - The Dockside Confrontation