He Strapped Bombs to Our Babies—for Her

I sent my husband's mistress out of the country thinking I was cleaning up the mess. But when Niccolo found out, he took our six-year-old twins as leverage. Strapped bombs to their chests and set a timer.

He slid his phone across the table, screen glowing with the horror I couldn’t unsee. “You’ve got forty-nine minutes, Geneva,” he said calmly. “Where did you send Margot?”

I flinched.

Margot.

That snake. His mistress. The woman who whispered lies into his ear until he believed our children weren’t his. Until he looked at me and saw nothing but betrayal.

I couldn’t speak.

This was the third time he’d asked. The first time, he just looked at me...like I was some stupid girl playing games. The second, he grabbed my chin, ran his thumb across my lips like he used to when we were in love, and whispered, “Geneva… stop acting up.”

Now?

Now, he had bombs on our babies.

“Y-you’re really doing this…” My voice came out broken, almost like it wasn’t mine. “Niccolo… they’re our kids…!”

He gave a short laugh. No humor. Just ice.

“THEY’RE YOUR KIDS,” he said sharply, leaning back. “Margot told me what happened during that trip to Milan. Said you were already pregnant when I married you. Said they can’t be mine. I saw the test. The DNA..”

My vision blurred.

“They’re yours,” I whispered. “Trust me! You know they’re yours. Please… you used to hold Elle like she was your little princess…Eli followed you around like your damn shadow—”

He slammed his hand on the table. “Then why the hell did you hide Margot from me?! Where is she, Geneva?!”

My breath hitched. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just wanted her gone. Wanted her to stop poisoning what little we had left. So I sent her away. I didn’t even tell my own damn shadow where.

I wiped at the tears streaming down my cheeks, but they just kept falling. My throat burned. My heart felt like someone took a bat to it.

“I sent her out of the country,” I finally admitted, voice raw. “I wanted her gone. I wanted you back.”

Niccolo stared at me. His jaw clenched. That muscle on his neck ticked. He stood. Walked around the table. Stopped right in front of me. Then, he leaned down until his lips were beside my ear.

“You have thirty-two minutes left,” he said quietly. “Tell me exactly where. Or you’ll watch them blow into pieces… starting with Elle.”

My knees buckled.

He didn’t catch me. And in that moment, I realized...my husband wasn’t the man who swore he’d protect me anymore.

He was the devil Margot turned him into. And I had to figure out how to beat the devil… before he destroyed what’s left of my heart.

Back then… I was just an ordinary girl. Nothing special. Just a nobody from a quiet street and a half-broken family.

And Niccolo Salvacion?

He was the goddamn prince of the underworld. The heir to the Salvacion family—rich, ruthless, born into power like he owned the whole damn city. Men bowed when he walked by. Cops looked the other way. People whispered his name like it was holy or cursed. Depends which side you stood on.

He was arrogant. Sharp. Always in control. And somehow, he fell for me.

Hard.

I still remember the way the city buzzed when he started chasing me. The way people stared when black Escalades lined up outside my apartment building, blocking traffic. The way strangers took photos of the night sky when he made the entire skyline light up with “G, marry me.” On my birthday, he shut down half the city with fireworks—just for me.

He made sure the world knew I was his.

I didn’t know whether to run or fall harder. My friends said I was crazy. But he was relentless. Soft with me. Dangerous with everyone else. He kissed me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.

I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve known fairy tales in the mafia never end well.

Even when I told him it wouldn’t work, that he was too far out of my world, too different but he didn’t care. I pushed him away, said I wasn’t mafia wife material. He still showed up, night after night, sitting in the rain outside my tiny apartment like some idiot in love.

He didn’t just break his pride for me. He shattered it.

When I got pregnant with the twins, he kissed my belly like it held his whole future.

He said, “They’re ours. You. Me. Them. That’s it.”

But that was before Margot whispered her venom in his ear.

Before she told him the twins weren’t his. Before he looked me in the eye with that cold, unreadable stare and asked, “Who’s their real father, Geneva?”

That shattered me more than any bullet could.

I really thought I married the right man. I thought love would be enough.

That was before I ever heard the name Margot Jenner.

It started off harmless. Just a throwaway line from Niccolo’s right-hand man, Luca, over a glass of whiskey.

Some girl at the underground auction had caused a scene, pretended to stumble right in front of Niccolo. Claimed her heel broke, but everyone knew it was staged. Girls like that were always trying to catch his eye. Thinking a fake blush and a desperate bid could earn them a seat at a table built on blood.

I laughed it off. I trusted him.

He’d always kept things clean, never messed around like the other men in our world. He told me I was different. He said he wanted a wife, not a liability. He swore I was it for him. But the second time I heard that name?

It was in our bed.

He was inside me, hot breath against my neck, my legs tangled around his waist and then he whispered, “Margot…”

When I confronted him the next morning…shaking, small, desperate to understand, he didn’t even deny it. He pulled me into his arms, calm, steady, like I was the one spiraling.

“Yeah… I thought about keeping her,” he said. “But she’s just for fun. Don’t overthink it. Everyone in our world has someone on the side. You’re the one I come home to, Geneva. That won’t change.”

That was his excuse. That I was supposed to accept it. Be grateful, even. But it did change.

He got bold.

He stopped hiding her.