Mafia's Ex Wife

Prologue

When I die, I think I want to write my own obituary.

Something like-- Liz Mason was a fake. Bottled up her emotions because she was scared of showing the slightest crack in her perfect, porcelain life. People pleaser. Terrible Driver. Made a mean buttercream frosting. Liked her coffee lukewarm, watched way too many true crime documentaries, and was known to drop it low with the right music and a few too many tequila shots.

At least then it would be the truth and not a bunch of sugarcoated embellishments and outright lies to make other people feel better.

The thought occurs to me as I stare down at Emily Hale's face. It's a picture of her in Central Park and there is snow on the trees behind her. Even the picture feels like a lie to me. She hated New York in the winter time and I could never get her to go with me no matter how much I begged. Not for the Christmas lights. Not for Times Square. Not even for the pizza. She hated it all, and if she knows this is the picture Marlana picked, she's probably rolling over in her grave right now.

The picture is sandwiched between an article about the the Cherry Blossom Festival and an ad for a local furniture store. Below it, there's a moving obituary, but I'm not falling for it. Devoted to her family? Try trapped. Missed by her adoring parents? Emily was the black sheep of the family and if I know Marlana at all, she's relieved to be rid of her.

My stomach turns as I run my fingers over the crisp page of the newspaper. I never actually read these things, but for some reason, I did today. Maybe it was a nudge from Emily herself, because if I didn't pick it up this morning, I wouldn't have known my best friend was dead.

Murdered, actually.

The obituary doesn't say as much, but I know that's what happened. When you're the daughter of a Mafia empire like the Hale family, you don't just die of natural causes at the age of twenty-six.

It's been years since I've seen her, but when I look down at that mischievous smile and sparkling green eyes, the pain is as fresh as if we just had coffee yesterday. I swallow, trying to remember the last time I even heard her voice.

For a moment, I consider calling Jax. I'm sure he's devastated to lose his sister, but I'm probably the last person he wants to talk to right now.

"Everything okay, babe?" Mike reaches for my hand, sensing something is off. He doesn't look up, distracted by something on his phone as he gets ready to head into the office.

It's a Monday, and if I sit here much longer, I'll be late dropping Harper at preschool, and then I'll be late for Pilates. I haven't been late in for years, and I don't intend to break that streak today.

"Everything's great." I insist, biting back the tears that sting in my eyes. "I'm going to jump in the shower before Harper get up. Have a great day at work."

I give him a quick kiss on the cheek as I brush past him and up the stairs. He doesn't press me on it—he never does. That's one thing I appreciate about Mike. He doesn't force me to talk about anything I don't want to—especially not my past.

It's not until I'm locked in the safety of our master bathroom with the steam from the scalding water pooling around me that I let myself cry.

And I cry and I cry and I cry until I'm sure I don't have any tears left as I sink back against the cool tile of the shower.

What happened to you, my sweet friend?

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Welcome to Mafia's Ex Wife! Of course I'm not patient enough to wait until September, so here is a like sneak peek! Can't wait for you to get to now Jax and Liz—they're my favorite couple I've ever written!

Let me know what you think!