The Mafia’s Guilty Wife

The watch my parents left me is a heap of crushed gears. My cat is buried beneath three feet of Montana frost. And the man who sent me here to rot is currently standing on my porch, expecting me to thank him for the visit. Three years ago, Vincent Moretti and his golden mistress stripped me of my dignity and exiled me to the wilderness, certain the silence would break me. They’ve come back to see a beggar; instead, they’ve found a ghost. They think they’ve won because I’m "tamed" by the cold. What they don’t know is that I’ve spent every night since the exile building a life they can’t touch. They think they are the ones granting mercy, but the ring on my finger belongs to the one Moretti they can't command. The exile is over, and I'm not coming back as a victim—I'm coming back as his aunt.