He Defended My Killer,Not Knowing I Was His WifeChapter 1

On the day I was eight months pregnant, my husband, Dante Valente, abandoned me in the death zone at the border of the two powerful families.

It wasn't an ordinary road.

It was a gray area, a long-standing battleground between the Valente and Morano families—no surveillance, no patrols, not even "laws."

There, human life meant nothing.

The reason I was forced out of the car was a phone call from Serafina Morano.

"Dante, I feel terrible… I have a fever…"

The voice on the other end of the line was weak, almost broken.

Dante's face changed instantly.

This man, who could decide life and death with a single word at the committee negotiating table, this advisor who made countless families bow their heads, became like a madman when he heard her voice.

"Don't be afraid, I'll be right there."

He finished speaking without even glancing at me.

The car screeched to a halt at the side of the road.

Before I could react, he had already unbuckled his seatbelt and looked at me coldly.

"Get out."

I froze. “Dante, we’re almost at the ancestral home, your mother—”

“I said, get out.”

His voice was utterly devoid of warmth.

I instinctively protected my stomach.