She thought she was just a fat, broke waitress in Brooklyn. Then a rainy night hit—her husband’s mistress ran her down, and in the blood and rain, the truth slammed back: she was the missing twenty-year-old heiress of New York’s most feared mafia clan, the Morettis. Even worse? Her obesity, her miscarriage, her pathetic life—every ounce of it was stolen. Her husband and the fake heiress had drugged her for years, stripping her of everything while wearing her face. She stopped the poison. She shed the weight. She came back lethal. At the gala, the scumbag husband dropped to his knees, the fake sister cracked apart, and the Moretti soldiers parted like the Red Sea when she walked in—cold, elegant, carved from vengeance. “You stole my life?” she whispered, eyes like polished steel. “Now I’m taking it back—with interest.” From waitress to don’t-mess-with-her. From fat to fatal.
