Blurb：
****"I made you my saint...now I'll make you my sacrifice."**
Emilia Saylor's fairytale marriage to Russian oligarch Dante Volkov shatters when her own husband plunges a knife into her pregnant belly aboard *The Emilia* superyacht. This dark mafia romance explores obsession gone monstrous as:
- **Dante Volkov** fulfills his twisted vow to destroy anyone "tainting" his saintly wife...including the wife herself
- **Summer Parker**, the scholarship student turned deadly rival, smirks through Emilia's shark-feeding ritual
- A **blood-stained ultrasound** reveals the Volkov heir's existence seconds too late
- Every "I love you" becomes a bullet when the **Mafia king** mistakes his masked queen for disposable trash
Can Emilia survive being the **human chum** in Dante's deranged loyalty test? Or will Miami's sharks feast on both a broken marriage and the **mafia baby** that should've united them?
Content：
§PROLOGUEHe slid the wedding band onto my finger, the cold platinum a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand.
His voice was a low rumble against my ear, a private promise in the echoing silence of the empty chapel.
You are my saint, Emilia.
He kissed my knuckles, his eyes dark with an intensity that was his alone.
"Anyone or anything that dares to tarnish you," he vowed, his thumb stroking the diamond, "I will burn to ash."
Five years later, as he drove the knife into my belly with his own hands, I finally understood.
His definition of "anyone" included me.
§01
The fifth anniversary of that promise, and my heart hammered against my ribs with a secret joy.
I clutched the ultrasound report in my pocket, the flimsy paper holding the weight of our five-year-long wish.
A child.
Our child.
I slipped through the throng of guests at the masquerade gala, my sequined mask a shield of anonymity.
The superyacht, *The Emilia*—his grandest gift to me—was alive with music and champagne, a floating island of opulence on the dark Miami sea.
My plan was simple: find my husband, Dante Volkov, and give him the surprise we had prayed for.
Then I saw him.
He stood near the stern, silhouetted against the moonlit water, a king in his domain.
But he wasn't alone.
A young woman in a whisper-thin white dress was pressed against him, her laughter tinkling like cheap glass.
Summer Parker. The girl from the scholarship fund I had helped him choose three months ago.
Her hands were on his chest, her head tilted back in a way that was both cloying and seductive.
Dante's arm was wrapped securely around her waist.
This wasn't a business meeting.
This was a honeymoon.
Just not mine.
The blood drained from my face, a cold wave of nausea washing over me.
My body swayed, my shoulder bumping into a passing waiter's tray.
A crash of champagne flutes shattered the festive air.
Every head turned.
Including his.
Dante's eyes, cold and hard as obsidian, locked onto me.
He didn't see his wife.
He saw a clumsy stranger who had ruined his moment.
His brow furrowed in irritation, and he snapped his fingers.
Two of his men, men who usually greeted me with a respectful "Mrs. Volkov," started moving towards me.
"That goddamn bitch," he growled, his voice carrying across the deck, loud enough for me to hear. "She's ruined the honeymoon I meticulously prepared for my wife."
He pulled Summer closer, whispering to her.
"Baby, you always wanted to see sharks, didn't you? Let's bleed her and draw them in."
§02
My blood ran cold, freezing in my veins.
This wasn't a joke.
I knew that tone. It was the voice he used right before he destroyed an enemy.
Before I could scream, a rough hand grabbed the back of my head.
My face was shoved violently into the top tier of a towering designer cake on a nearby table.
Cream and frosting clogged my nose and mouth, the sickly-sweet smell mixing with the terror of suffocation.
I struggled, my lungs burning, my nails clawing at the tablecloth.
I could hear Summer's delicate, fake gasp.
"Oh, darling, isn't that a bit much?"
Dante's cold laugh was my answer. He pulled her into a possessive embrace.
"Baby, you're just too kind. A bitch like this ruins our trip, I can't let her off easy."
He gestured to the dark water.
"You wanted to see sharks, remember? Today, you get a front-row seat."
I couldn't believe this was happening.
This monster, this cold-blooded stranger, couldn't be the same man who had worshipped the ground I walked on.
The man who had carved my name into the list of untouchables in both the legitimate world and the underworld.
The man whose entire fortune, locked away in his office safe, was legally designated to me as the sole beneficiary.
But the hands dragging me from the cake were real.
The two bodyguards held me fast.
"Bleed her," Dante ordered, his voice as flat and merciless as a funeral dirge. "Draw them in."
My throat was raw, but I fought, screaming, my nails digging into the arms of my captors, drawing blood.
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The End