The hall was silent, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock. I slowly unbuttoned my coat and hung it in the closet.

Dante followed me in, grabbing my wrist before I could reach the stairs.

"Why are you acting like this?" His voice echoed through the empty room.

I wrenched my hand free. "Isn't this what you’ve always wanted?"

He frowned. "I told you, giving Tess a ride was a matter of convenience. It was business."

"You never mentioned there was another man there," I countered his hollow excuse. "If there had been another man, she would have sat in the back."

Realizing his slip of the tongue, he let out a heavy sigh. "She gets carsick in the back." He stepped closer. "I wasn't alone with her. My relationship with Tess is strictly that of a Don and his subordinate."

I didn't cross my arms in defense; I simply let his explanations scatter between us.

He rubbed the back of his neck—a rare sign of vulnerability. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"I want nothing from you," I said, lifting my eyes to his. "You don’t need to explain yourself to me anymore."

I turned and placed my hand on the banister. "But you’d better return that earring to her tonight. Lest your associates come looking for it in the dead of night."

Behind me, the silence was suffocating.

I glanced back. His jaw was tight, and his face was as pale as if he’d just been pulled from freezing water.

As I climbed the stairs, the uninvited images of Tess replayed in my mind.

The first time was late at night. The estate security told me over the intercom that she was at the gate. Tess stood in the pouring rain, clothes soaked, eyes red, claiming she’d left a mission report in Dante’s car and feared the Capos’ punishment. Dante didn't just hand her the report; he escorted her back to the safe house himself. I waited up until 3:00 AM.

Two weeks later, I found a deep red lipstick under the seat of his SUV. I placed it on Dante’s desk. He looked at it, his expression placid. "Tess lost it while running errands." He tucked the lipstick into his pocket instead of throwing it away.

Three nights later, Tess appeared again. She walked straight into the hall, ignoring me entirely, and walked up to Dante. "Boss, where’s my lipstick?"

Dante pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. "Be more careful next time," he said, his voice tinged with a faint indulgence.

Tess made a face at the most feared man in the Syndicate.

I froze in the doorway. In the Mafia, no one dared to be so disrespectful to Dante. Men had lost fingers for less. Yet her behavior was that of a spoiled child, and he was the father who indulged her.

We had our first real fight that night. I screamed, I shattered glasses, I demanded to know why she was allowed to cross every boundary.

Dante stood there, expressionless. "Your head is full of irrational thoughts. Tess is a valuable asset to this family. She is brave and loyal."

He looked at me as if I were a screaming stranger.

Then he turned his back on me and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the shattered glass.

My feet reached the top of the stairs, and my thoughts returned to the present.

Dante stood below, his dark gaze fixed on me, trying to find a reaction to his words on my face. He found nothing.

I turned toward the master bedroom.

"Sienna," his voice was hoarse, carrying a strange sliver of hope.

I stopped, but I didn't turn back.

"Do you know what day it is?" he asked.

I stared at the closed oak door of the bedroom. If he hadn't mentioned it, I truly would have forgotten. Ever since he took Tess as his secretary, he had been "busy with business" every anniversary.

Last year, I spent three hours preparing his favorite meal and bought him the antique watch he’d been eyeing for months.

By 9:00 PM, he wasn't home. I called his private line. Tess answered, her voice sharp over the din of a noisy bar. "The boss is a little drunk right now. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him."

Dante was obsessively protective of his encrypted phone.

Early in our marriage, I had merely moved it to wipe the marble counter, and he had scolded me: civilian hands had no right to touch Syndicate business.

But Tess was allowed to answer his most secure line.

When he came home the next day, we had an earth-shattering row. He left in a rage, leaving my carefully prepared dinner to rot and the gift unopened.

Standing in the hallway now, the memory faded.

Today was our anniversary again.

I tilted my head slightly, catching his eye for a split second.

"I forgot."

His hand, halfway through loosening his tie, froze. His throat moved with effort, and his hands dropped to his sides.

"You forgot?" he repeated, the hope in his voice shattering instantly. "It’s our fifth anniversary."

I looked at his shocked expression and felt nothing. No victory, no remorse—only a vast, silent emptiness.

I pushed open the bedroom door, leaving him in the darkness below.