The Mark He Bit Into Me novel Chapter 10

Chapter 1

I had been Lewis “The Fist” Corleone’s wife for three years.

He was thirty–five, the youngest Don our Family had ever seen, feared from the docks to the district halls. I

was not yet twenty–one–still finishing my degree, a quiet life I kept separate from his.

I hadn’t decided if I wanted to be a full–time Mafia wife, draped in silk and blood–oaths.

Then one evening, I overheard him in his study with his Consiglieri and a few Capos.

He laughed, the sound cold against the scent of cigars and whiskey. “Emily? Her only virtue is her youth and

innocence. Compared to her, Victoria… Victoria is a queen. Sharp, ruthless. She understands this life.”

He took a slow drag. “Honestly, I regret the marriage. A mistress costs you gifts and attention. A divorce? It

costs you territory, respect. It’s a fucking disaster.”

The moment the words settled in the air, I stepped into the study and handed him the divorce papers.

When his eyes scanned the document, finding the clause where I renounced all claim to his territories,

businesses, and the Family’s wealth, I saw the tension leave his shoulders. A silent, profound relief.

Then, playing the part of the generous Don, he said, “I’ll give you the little villa in Palermo. Consider it a

parting gift.”

I smiled, a cold, sharp thing.

“I’m still young. I can afford the loss.”

What he didn’t know was that my brother, Andrew “The Hawk” Andolini, wasn’t just New York’s upper crust. He was the bedrock. The silent, unseen power whose approval could make or break a Family.

Every bit of territory Lewis held, every ounce of fear he commanded, was granted by The Hawk’s grace.

Now that we were getting divorced, his empire was built on sand.

During what was supposed to be my final, peaceful semester, I insisted on “learning the family business.” All I really wanted was to see more of my formidable husband.

I entered as a low–level associate, invisible.

I kept my head down, my eyes open, and my mouth shut. I was so discreet Lewis didn’t even know I was in his organization.

I didn’t want to be a distraction or a liability.

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His Unwanted Wife, The World’s Coveted Genius

Sometimes, I’d hear the other new recruits talk about him.

I’d just listen, never saying a word.

“Don Corleone… he’s something else. The way he handles a problem… cold.”

“Shame he’s married. Word is, he married some civilian girl. No connections, nothing.”

“Wish I had that kind of luck.”

When I was eighteen, Lewis made his intentions clear from the start.

On the first day he confessed, he told me he was looking for a wife. For legitimacy. For an heir.

He gave me a pearl–handled derringer on the spot.

I responded with the full–hearted passion of a girl who knew no better.

We were married within a year.

It was impulsive, intense, and for a time, sweet.

He gave me a kind of fierce, possessive love I’d never imagined. The kind only a Mafia Don can offer-

all–consuming, dangerous, and designed to make you forget where he ends and you begin.

If I hadn’t joined his organization, I might have never discovered the truth.

Victoria “The Viper” Blake–Lewis’s Consigliere.

Deadly, elegant, the very definition of a woman forged in the underworld.

She was at his side for every turf negotiation, every tense sit–down with rival families.

She managed the books, the muscle, the secrets. Sometimes, it seemed she knew more about the Corleone

empire than Lewis himself.

Before anyone in the Family knew of my existence, they all assumed Victoria was his woman.

Even in the social halls, I’d hear old–timers who’d ridden with her say, “The Don must be blind. A woman

like Victoria, and he chooses a kitten?”

“She left a high–ranking position with the Gambinos to be his right hand.”

“Just wait. The infatuation will fade. He’ll put her aside and make things right with Victoria.”

The rumors were a constant hum.

I didn’t listen.

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After all, in our bed, Lewis and I were still passionately in love, night after night.

Until the celebration after we’d taken a crucial shipping lane from the Irish mob. Victoria, feigning

But Molly, a chatty girl in the intelligence wing with a nose for gossip, had recorded it all and sent it to me.

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