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.

Just past midnight, a commotion downstairs woke me. I walked to the top of the stairs and looked down through the railing.

Tess was standing by the sofa, crying loudly. "Did I mess up the operation? The Capos are going to hate me."

Dante stood a few feet away, his posture relaxed. "I’ll explain it to my wife later. It wasn't your fault." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don’t blame yourself."

I had seen enough and began to walk down. Before I reached the last step, Tess suddenly threw her arms around Dante’s neck, pressing herself against his chest.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, watching them. Dante’s hands hovered over her back, hesitating for a moment.

I said nothing, walking straight past them into the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

When Dante’s eyes met mine, his expression shifted from surprise to panic. He pushed Tess away, stepping back to create distance.

Tess flustered, wiping her face. "I was just... overwhelmed by the Don’s kindness."

I ignored her, filled my glass, and took a slow sip. Then I turned, leaning against the counter with a faint smile.

"It doesn't matter. No explanation needed." My gaze shifted to Dante. "Please keep it down. I’m trying to sleep."

Tess looked at Dante, waiting for him to defend her or scold me.

Dante didn't look at her. He only stared at my face. "Go home, Tess."

A few minutes after the front door closed, Dante walked into the bedroom. He looked more exhausted than I had ever seen him, dark circles heavy under his eyes.

"Something is wrong between us," his voice was laced with panic. "We need to talk."