My Dear Don, Reborn from the Ashes, I Don’t Want You

My Mafia husband, Alessio, was sleeping with his stepsister, Sophia.

In the car, the study, the bathroom, even on the dining table, they left evidence of their affair everywhere.

"Sophia, don't worry. Once I solidify my position in the family, I'll give you everything."

"Blair… she's just a tool to secure my position."

In our eight years of marriage, he had whispered the sweetest words in the world to me.

Now, his devotion was worthless.

I didn't cry or cause a scene. Instead, I made a deal on the black market. In two weeks, Blair Greco would disappear from this world for good.

Alessio believed his power was enough to fuel his arrogant fantasy of having Sophia get his preference.

So be it. I'm gone. It means nothing to me. But as for my daughter's blood and for everything I had lost, I swore I would make them pay.

In the house of God, I heard their blasphemy with my own ears.

From the family church's confessional, Sophia's soft voice slithered into my ears like a venomous snake.

"Alessio, when are you going to tell everyone? You promised me."

"Soon, my baby, Just waiting for her to recover from the grief of losing our daughter. It's not the right time."

"Poor girl. The child's true misfortune was having a mother as weak as her. But don't worry, I'll give you a real heir."

"She's my wife, isn't she?" His voice held for a moment, a perfect non-answer. "But I'd much rather be with you right now, baby."

My husband, the new Don of the Greco family, could talk about his wife without so much as flinching, all while his hands were on another woman.

This time, I wouldn't stand for it.

I made an encrypted call to a black market contact.

"Hello, I need a complete set of identity documents," I said in the dim corner of a bar, pushing a stack of cash across the table.

The contact glanced at me, fanned the bills to count them, then slid a small note across the table.

"Ma'am, pick it up at the designated location in two weeks. The identity will go live once the funds clear."

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Enough time for me to erase everything here.

On the way back, the sound of the church choir was ethereal and ironic.

Everyone knew how "deeply" Alessio loved me. In the eyes of the world, I was the only one he cherished.

He was ruthless and bloodthirsty to everyone else, saving his only tenderness and sweetness for me.

On our first night together, he'd seared my name onto the inside of his arm with a tattoo needle.

Our wedding eight years ago stunned all of New York, with the whole of Manhattan lit up by fireworks for me. Even last year, when my phone died and I disappeared for half a day, he mobilized all Five Families to find me.

When my parents died in that accident, he abandoned a multi-hundred-million-dollar arms deal in Chicago and rushed to my side. He found me on the verge of collapse.

He pulled me tightly into his arms and whispered in my ear, "Blair, I'm here. I will never leave you."

Back then, I thought he was my savior, so I offered him my shattered heart, piece by piece.

Everyone in the underworld would say, "Don Alessio is a man in love. Blair is his life."

At the thought, I forced a faint smile. So, was he ready to give up his life for her?

And this person just had to be his so-called stepsister.

Sophia was ten when Alessio picked her up off the streets and brought her home to be raised as a Greco. I always thought he saw her as his dearest sister.

Until six months ago, when Alessio brought her into our villa, and I found a piece of women's lingerie that wasn't mine on my art studio sofa.

At that time, I had just buried the ashes of our two-year-old daughter in the family cemetery.

As I pieced together the contradictory lies, I knew it was all over.

Alessio could play his games and weave a thousand sweet lies for me. But this time, I wouldn't stay.

I tucked the contact's note into my clutch, hailed a cab, and returned to the Greco family estate.

The moment I stepped through the villa's doors, I smelled a strange, cloying scent hanging in the air.

In my art studio, Alessio was standing before an easel, with Sophia clinging to his arm, smiling like the true lady of the manor.

The heavy door clicked shut behind me, and Alessio spun around.

His expression froze for a second when he saw me, but his eyes instantly softened, his lips curling into that practiced, false smile I knew so well.

"Blair, why are you out dressed so lightly? Weren't you going to the gallery with a friend? Why are you back so soon? I was about to give you a surprise."

The fresh love bite on his neck was impossible to miss. Was this the surprise he had for me?

An invisible hand squeezed my heart, but I forced myself to look away, feigning indifference.

Sophia's soft laugh broke the silence. She toyed with her long hair, her voice sickly sweet.

"Blair, our Don cares so much about you. He said he hopes I can become a painter just like you, so he brought me to your studio to soak in the artistic atmosphere."

My gaze followed hers to the sofa, where the expensive velvet fabric was now a wrinkled mess.

My studio was my sanctuary. Alessio knew how important it was to me, yet he let them desecrate my oldest dream right here.

The pain in my chest blazed like a wildfire, my nails digging deep into my palms.

As usual, Alessio was oblivious to my silence. He walked over and pulled me to the easel like he was presenting a treasure. "Look, Blair. I painted this for you. I was hoping… Sophia could learn too."

"No, I don't want to see it." I instinctively stepped back. "I don't feel well." I felt so sick that another second in this room felt like it would kill me.

His brow furrowed immediately, his face etched with concern. He summoned one private doctor after another until they confirmed I was fine.

Alessio placed his hands on my shoulders with a force that permitted no resistance. He leaned in, his hot breath brushing my ear as he whispered, "Be good, Blair. Don't make me worry."

That night, I woke up to a burning sensation in my throat and went downstairs for water. The screen of the villa's central surveillance system was glowing faintly.

Then, I froze.

On one of the screens, the feed from the private study was crystal clear. Two figures were tangled together.