Not a Trophy Wife, but a Mafia Queen Chapter 01

Not a Trophy Wife, but a Mafia Queen Chapter 01

I stood in a boutique cafe on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, casually sliding my husband’s black card through the reader.

Massimo Moreau’s unlimited corporate card.

Before I could even secure my grip on the coffee cup, three uniformed NYPD officers burst through the entrance.

“Mrs. Ophelia Moreau? You are under arrest for the embezzlement of Moreau Group corporate funds. Step away from the counter.”

The next second, my face was slammed hard against the freezing marble floor. Handcuffs clicked tight around my wrists.

While my brain was still struggling to process the sudden impact, my phone vibrated violently against the tiles.

It was Liliana, Massimo’s newly appointed personal secretary. Her voice was dripping with youthful arrogance.

“Do you have any idea whose money you just spent, Ophelia? Every single dollar on that card belongs to Don Moreau.”

“Don Moreau manages the family estate, deals with the board, and handles the underground shipping lines. He works himself to the bone while you do nothing but squander his fortune. As his wife, aren’t you ashamed?”

She paused, waiting for me to break.

“Starting today, I am personally auditing all of your expenses.”

“If you want to spend a single cent, you submit a formal request to me first. No funds move without my signature.”

“Furthermore, your allowance for this month is capped at five hundred dollars.”

“And that coffee you just ordered? It cost four hundred and ninety-nine.”

“I suggest you learn some financial restraint for the next thirty days.”

Listening to her condescending, self-righteous lecture, a low laugh escaped my throat.

It was a quiet sound.

Mostly born out of sheer pity.

Liliana Costa had only been with the Moreau Group for a single month.

Just because she sat right outside Massimo’s office, she truly believed she was transitioning into the next matriarch of the Moreau syndicate.

What the poor girl didn’t realize was a fundamental truth.

The real power behind the entire Moreau empire had never belonged to Massimo.

It belonged to me.

I was the majority shareholder of the Moreau Group.

The underground casinos, the logistics networks, and the capital lines fueling the arms trade were all registered under my name.

Even the exclusive black cards that granted Massimo his high-society status were directly tied to my personal offshore accounts.

Even the bloated monthly salary Liliana took home was cut from my private foundation.

The man the public whispered about in absolute terror—the ruthless ‘Don Moreau’—was nothing more than a beggar who had married into my family line years ago.

Who the hell was she—

To tell me how to spend my own money?

The arresting officers were close enough to overhear the entire exchange over the speakerphone.

Their eyes instinctively drifted down to the glowing screen of my device.

The transaction notification read: Spent: $3.52.

An suffocating silence blanketed the cafe.

The officers’ expressions instantly drained of color.

The lead sergeant began to sweat profusely, a cold bead tracing down his temple.

No law enforcement officer in New York needed a lecture on what the Moreau name signified.

They weren’t just a corporate entity.

They were the apex predators dominating the entire East Coast underworld.

“Donna… We are profoundly sorry,” the sergeant stuttered, rapidly unlocking the cuffs. His tone was laced with pure terror.

“We will track down the source of this fraudulent emergency call immediately.”

But I couldn’t even stand up to acknowledge him. I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white.

A sharp, agonizing spasm ripped through my lower abdomen, sending a wave of cold sweat dripping down my spine.

“Get me to a hospital,” I gasped out, my voice cracking under the intense strain.

“The baby… it’s coming.”

The entire cafe erupted into chaos.

Ten minutes later, a fleet of black cruisers tore through the Manhattan traffic, sirens screaming as they sped toward the private medical center.

Inside the hospital’s restricted VIP wing, the head nurse was frantically processing my admission papers.

Fighting through another wave of blinding pain, I pulled a premium black card from my wallet and handed it over.

Moments later, the nurse returned, her expression a mix of confusion and hesitation.

“Mrs. Moreau…”

“Your accounts have been completely declined. The system says they are frozen.”

A chill washed over my entire body.

“That’s impossible.”

Those specific accounts held hundreds of millions in liquid assets.

No one possessed the clearance to lock them unless they held supreme executive authority.

Then, Liliana’s smug voice echoed back into my mind.

My eyes turned dead and cold.

I immediately dialed Massimo’s private, encrypted line.

It rang three times.

The line clicked open.

“Massimo, listen to me—”

“Ophelia, don’t you ever tire of throwing tantrums?” Liliana’s exhausting voice cut me off before I could finish.

“We place a temporary restriction on your vanity budget, and you immediately run to call your husband to complain?”

She let out a soft, mocking giggle.

In the background, I could faintly hear the elegant classical music playing inside the high-security family boardroom.

“Let me clarify something for you. This directive came straight from Don Moreau himself.”

“The entire financial department answers exclusively to me now.”

The pain in my abdomen was making it hard to breathe, but I squeezed the phone until my fingers bruised.

“I am currently in the hospital.”

“Unfreeze my assets right now.”

“Or put Massimo on the line.”

Liliana’s tone turned even more venomous.

“The Don is currently in a closed-door meeting with the Sicilian Capos. He doesn’t have time to handle domestic squabbles.”

“From this point forward, the estate payroll, household expenses, and staff assignments run through my desk.”

“If you need emergency funds, fine.”

“File the paperwork according to the new protocol.”

“If I deem it acceptable, I will approve a voucher.”

She paused, a malicious sneer practically audible through the speaker.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

“Your remaining balance for the month is exactly one dollar.”

“Don’t go over budget, Donna.”

The last remnants of my control snapped.

A violent, tearing sensation ripped through my womb, forcing me against the corridor wall. My voice shook with an icy rage.

“Liliana Costa.”

“Listen to me very carefully.”

“I am standing outside a delivery room.”

“I am in labor.”

“And more importantly—”

“I have never spent a single dime of Massimo’s money.”

“Those accounts belong to my bloodline.”

“If you do not reverse the freeze within sixty seconds, I will make sure the entire city learns the truth.”

“That a pathetic, low-tier secretary dared to rob the true Matriarch of the Moreau Family.”