Leaving the Don: A Mafia Wife's Revenge

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone.

He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features.

I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs.

I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld.

Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life."

But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end."

Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society.

While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino.

Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time.

When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed.

"But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"

The sixth sense of a woman who moved among underworld forces was normally inseparable from vigilance.

While Vincenzo Corleone was handling business in the study, his personal phone vibrated once.

It was an encrypted number with no contact name.

When the screen lit up, I caught a glimpse of the message preview. The two words read, "Miss you."

Vincenzo reached to turn off the screen almost instantly, his gaze flickering momentarily. Then, he returned to his paperwork, as if nothing happened.

That momentary hesitation was all I needed to confirm that he was cheating on me.

My hand was unnaturally steady as I held the coffee mug, yet my fingertips had gone white from the pressure.

When Vincenzo went down to the basement armory to inspect the weapons, I unlocked his phone using the password I'd obtained with my hacking skills.

From the encrypted number, I found the woman in a hidden social media app.

Her profile picture is a photo of her taken by the Seranian seaside, with cascading curls framing her sweet, smiling face.

Her username was "Sunshine Lina", and Vicenzo had muted her notifications.

Their chat was empty, with only one unread message from earlier. But the emptier it was, the more obvious the cover-up.

I clicked into Lina's feed. Nearly every post was related to Vincenzo.

There was a photo of her in the passenger seat of a Rolls-Royce. The Corleone family crest on the steering wheel was unmistakable.

Her caption read, "My exclusive ride is here!"

Another photo showed a vanity overflowing with luxury goods. Among them was a diamond necklace which Vincenzo had given me for my birthday last year. He'd claimed that it was a one-of-a-kind necklace.

Her caption read, "I have someone who'd buy whatever I like for me without hesitation."

What hit me the hardest was the post from three days ago.

Lina had written, "I only want the amount 143, nothing more!"

Attached below were screenshots of her chat with Vincenzo. Her contact name for him was "Don Mio".

Lina asked, "Where is the 'I love you' you promised me?"

Vincenzo transferred her a million dollars right away.

Lina didn't accept it. Instead, she sent it back and repeated, "I only want 143! It means 'I love you'!"

Vincenzo replied with a string of ellipses before eventually sending her 143 thousand dollars instead.

Lina added a shy emoticon and replied, "That's more like it."

I saved a screenshot expressionlessly.

After exiting Lina's feed, I opened Vincenzo's secret bank account and started scrolling through his endless transaction records.

He had been sending her a steady 50 thousand dollars as a monthly allowance for six months straight.

There were also transactions sent on special occasions too—11,111 dollars, 14,300 dollars, 143 thousand dollars. He'd even transferred 100 thousand dollars just to celebrate their 100th day together.

I sent every record to my encrypted email.

When I logged out, I made sure their chat still showed as unread. I even left his phone's battery at the same level it had been when Vincenzo left.

I was calm throughout the entire process, as if I was handling a famiglia document that had nothing to do with me.