My Mafia Husband Left Me to Freeze Above Aspen

Vincent wanted to fly to Chicago immediately.

I did not.

For the first time in our marriage, that meant we did not fly to Chicago.

He paced the villa library while I sat near the fireplace with tea I had forgotten to drink.

“Lucas may be in danger,” he said.

“So am I.”

“I know.”

“You say that, but every instinct in your body is already halfway to O’Hare.”

He stopped pacing.

“That’s fair.”

“I am not asking you to stay for me.”

“I would stay for you.”

“That is exactly the problem.”

His expression tightened.

I stood.

“If you stay because you think your presence is the only thing keeping me alive, then you are still making yourself the center of every decision. Lukas can protect me. Hannah is here. Marco can investigate Lucas. You do not have to personally control every moving piece.”

Vincent stared at me as though I had started speaking another language.

Then something in his face softened.

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

That almost earned me a smile.

Almost.

Instead, he called Marco and told him to locate Lucas discreetly.

No approach.

No surveillance inside his home.

No contact until we understood why Carlo was moving again.

When the call ended, Vincent looked at me.

“I would not have given those instructions a month ago.”

“No.”

“I would have dragged the man into a car.”

“Yes.”

“I’m trying.”

“I can see that.”

His eyes lifted to mine.

It was the first kind thing I had said to him since Aspen.

I hated that he looked like I had handed him water after a year in the desert.

A knock sounded at the front door.

Lukas entered the library seconds later.

His hand was near the weapon under his jacket.

“There’s a woman at the gate,” he said.

“Who?”

He looked at Vincent.

“Sophia Reynolds.”

Every warm feeling inside me died instantly.

Vincent’s face hardened.

“She’s here?”

“She walked up alone. No car. No phone that we can detect.”

“Send her away,” Vincent said.

“No,” I said.

He looked at me.

“I want to hear what she has to say.”

“Claire—”

“My choice.”

His jaw worked once.

Then he nodded.

“Your choice.”

Sophia entered ten minutes later.

I almost did not recognize her.

In Aspen, she had worn a white ski coat that probably cost more than my first car. Her hair had been glossy, her makeup perfect, her tears beautiful enough to make a man furious on her behalf.

Now she wore jeans, a cheap black jacket, and no makeup. A purple bruise darkened one side of her jaw.

She looked exhausted.

She also looked terrified.

Vincent stood near the fireplace.

When Sophia saw him, she stopped.

“I’m not here for you.”

His voice turned to ice. “That is the smartest thing you’ve said in months.”

I looked at him.

He fell silent.

Sophia faced me.

“I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me more than that.”

“Yes.”

“Sit.”

She sat across from me.

I remained standing.

“Why did you lie?”

Her eyes filled.

I felt nothing.

“My brother owed money.”

“To who?”

“People connected to Daniel Riva.”

Vincent stiffened.

Sophia continued.

“He had a gambling problem. I paid his debts twice. The third time, Riva came to me. He said if I helped create distance between you and Vincent, the debt would disappear.”

“Create distance?” I repeated.

“He wanted arguments. Misunderstandings. He gave me things to say. Small things at first.”

My mind moved backward through two years.

A dinner Vincent missed because Sophia said I had changed the time.

A photograph of Vincent and Sophia leaving a hotel after a conference, sent anonymously to my phone.

A charity invitation that never reached me, making it look as though I had insulted one of Vincent’s oldest family allies.

“Were you behind all of it?” I asked.

Sophia nodded.

Rage rose so fast I tasted metal.

Vincent moved toward me.

I lifted one hand.

He stopped.

“You let me think my husband was sleeping with you.”

Sophia looked down.

“Yes.”

“Were you?”

“No.”

Vincent spoke. “Never.”

I did not look at him.

“Then Aspen.”

Sophia’s hands twisted together.

“Riva told me to make you look cruel in front of Vincent. He said Vincent was already angry about your argument over the family foundation. He said all I had to do was cry.”

“And you did.”

“Yes.”

“You knew I was afraid of heights.”

Her face crumpled.

“I knew.”

“Did you know he would stop the cable car?”

“No.”

Vincent’s voice was flat. “She didn’t need to know. That was my choice.”

Sophia looked at him, startled.

He did not move.

“I ordered it,” he said. “You lied. I chose the punishment.”

Something twisted in my chest.

Sophia swallowed.

“After it happened, Riva called me. He was furious.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He said Vincent had gone too far too soon.”

Vincent frowned.

“Too soon for what?”

Sophia reached inside her jacket.

Lukas immediately stepped forward.

She froze.

“It’s a recorder.”

She slowly removed a small digital device and placed it on the table.

“I started recording Riva after Aspen. I was scared.”

Vincent stared at it.

“What did he say?”

Sophia looked at me.

“He said Carlo’s plan was to make Vincent destroy his own marriage.”

“Why?”

“Because of the baby.”

The room went silent.

My skin turned cold.

“He knew I was pregnant?”

Sophia shook her head.

“Not yet. But Carlo knew you were trying. He had access to family medical insurance information. He knew about the fertility specialist.”

I turned toward Vincent.

His face was murderous.

“Keep talking,” he said.

Sophia’s voice trembled.

“Carlo believed if you had a child, Vincent would finally cut ties with the old organization. He said Claire had already convinced you to sell two clubs, end the cash businesses, and move more assets into legitimate companies.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed.

“That was my decision.”

“I know. But Carlo blamed her.”

I almost laughed.

Of course he did.

Powerful men had been blaming women for other men’s choices since the beginning of time.

Sophia looked at me.

“He wanted you gone before you got pregnant. If Vincent divorced you angry enough, Carlo thought he could pull him back into the family.”

“And if we stayed together?”

Her eyes flicked toward my stomach.

“Then the child became a problem.”

Vincent took one step forward.

Lukas quietly moved between him and Sophia.

“Do not,” I said.

Vincent stopped.

“I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Good.”

Sophia picked up the recorder.

“There’s something else.”

She pressed play.

Static filled the room.

Then Daniel Riva’s voice.

You should have kept him angry, not made him reckless.

Sophia’s recorded voice answered.

I didn’t tell him to stop the gondola.

No, Vincent did that himself. Carlo was right about one thing. The boy still uses fear when he feels betrayed.

Vincent’s face turned gray.

Riva continued.

Now the wife will leave. If she’s smart, she’ll stay gone. If she isn’t, we use the old solution.

Sophia asked, What old solution?

A pause.

Then Riva laughed.

Ask Alessandro.

The recording ended.

Hannah covered her mouth.

Vincent stared at the floor.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

Sophia whispered, “I didn’t know who Alessandro was then.”

“But you know now.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Riva came to my apartment after Vincent fired me. He was drunk. He said Carlo had waited twenty-four years to finish what he started.”

My stomach clenched.

I gripped the back of the chair.

Vincent saw it immediately.

“Claire?”

“I’m fine.”

Then the pain came again.

Sharper.

Low in my abdomen.

I inhaled.

Vincent moved one step closer and stopped himself.

“Can I come near you?”

The question barely registered.

“Yes.”

He was beside me instantly, but he did not touch me until I reached for his arm.

Another cramp tore through me.

“I’m bleeding.”

The words came out small.

Vincent went white.

Lukas was already calling the clinic.

Sophia stood in horror.

“I’m sorry.”

I looked down.

A thin line of red stained my jeans.

For one terrible second, Aspen returned.

The wind.

The swinging cabin.

My hands over a baby I had not yet met.

Please, God. Save my baby.

“Claire.” Vincent’s voice shook. “Look at me.”

I did.

“We’re going to the hospital.”

I nodded.

He bent as if to lift me.

Then he stopped.

“Can I carry you?”

The absurdity of asking permission while I was bleeding almost shattered me.

“Yes.”

He lifted me carefully.

I buried my face against his shoulder because I could not stop trembling.

The hospital was twelve minutes away.

Vincent held my hand in the back seat only because I reached for his first.

At the emergency entrance, the doctors took me from him.

He tried to follow.

A nurse blocked the door.

“Family?” she asked.

Vincent looked at me.

Not at her.

He waited.

I understood what he was asking.

My husband.

My almost ex-husband.

The father of my child.

The man who had terrified me.

The man currently shaking so badly he had both hands clenched into fists to hide it.

“He’s the father,” I said.

The nurse looked at me. “Do you want him inside?”

I hesitated.

Vincent did not breathe.

“Yes.”

He followed.

The ultrasound room was dark.

The technician moved the wand carefully while I stared at the ceiling.

Vincent stood three feet away.

Then the sound filled the room.

Fast.

Strong.

Alive.

Our baby’s heartbeat.

I began to cry.

Vincent turned his face away.

The doctor explained that the bleeding appeared to come from a small subchorionic hemorrhage. Frightening, but not uncommon. The baby was measuring correctly. The heartbeat was strong.

Rest.

Monitoring.

No guarantees, but no immediate sign of loss.

I breathed for the first time in an hour.

When the doctor left, Vincent remained by the wall.

He was crying silently.

I had seen Vincent furious.

I had seen him cold.

I had seen him command rooms full of armed men without raising his voice.

I had never seen him cry.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He looked at me like he had misheard.