Three nights ago, I was locked inside my own family’s underground wine cellar.

When my congenital heart condition hit, I called my husband, Zane Corleone, and begged him to come save me.

He didn’t come.

Instead, he stayed with another woman all night because she was afraid of the dark—and told me to stop faking it for attention.

That was the moment I finally understood.

If he cared that much about her, then I would do the one thing neither of them expected.

I would make room for her.

In three days, I would disappear from his world completely.

My steward worked fast.

He confirmed that every last piece of my plan was locked in.

He paused at the door. “Madam… if you go through with this, the Don will lose his mind.”

There was a time when Zane would drop everything just to get to me, when he held me like I was the only thing that mattered in his world.

But that was a long time ago. Now, she was the one who came first in his heart.

“I’m sure,” I said quietly.

He lowered his head and left.

Right after he left, Zane walked in.

Before I could say a word, his phone rang.

A sweet voice came through the speaker.

“Zane, when are you coming back? The power went out again, it’s so dark in here… I’m so scared…”

Zane’s voice softened instantly, this warm, tender tone he hadn’t used with me in years.

“Shh, Susan, don’t cry. I’m heading over right now, I promise.”

He frowned and headed for the door.

“Susan’s having a bad episode. I need to go. Get some sleep. If it’s about the docks, you’ve got full authority to sign off on it from now on.”

The door slammed shut before I could reply, leaving me alone in the empty villa.

Three nights earlier, at a banquet, I had been accidentally locked in the underground wine cellar.

My congenital heart condition hit.

With the last of my strength, I had dialed Zane, begging for help.

On the other end of the line, his voice had dripped with sharp impatience.

“Just sit tight. I’ll send someone to unlock the door. Seraphina, you haven’t had an episode in years, so stop faking this for attention. Susan’s having a full-on meltdown, she’s petrified of the dark. I can’t leave her right now. Just hold on.”

I had blacked out in that cellar.

It was my family’s lifelong steward who found me. When I came to, I found out Zane had sat with Susan the whole night, not once checking in on me.

That very day, I decided I was going to disappear.

The tool for my vanishing act? That same heart condition Zane swore up and down I was faking.

Zane didn’t stumble back home until noon the next day.

He’d just hung up from a call with Susan, and was flipping through the docks’ financial reports on the couch.

His hand drifted to the spot next to him, reaching for the jasmine tea I’d brewed him every morning for years.

When he found nothing there, he finally lifted his head, his face set in a scowl.

“It was just a locked cellar, for Christ’s sake. Susan’s doctor said your condition’s basically gone. Stop faking these spells for sympathy, and quit being so goddamn dramatic.”

I held his stare, thinking to myself: Fine by me. Soon enough, you’ll never have to look at my face again.

I went back to my business, not sparing him another glance.

When I didn’t take the bait and snap at him, Zane slammed the reports down and stormed out.

I didn’t waste a single second on his temper.

I finished the docks’ account reconciliations, made myself a warm glass of milk, and took a long, hot shower to wind down.

That night, my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Zane’s assistant.

[The Don’s had too much to drink at the dockside casino.]

For years, Zane had had a bad stomach. Too much alcohol would leave him nauseous and pounding with a headache.

Before I realized what I was doing, I had already gone into the kitchen.

By habit, I prepared a bottle of honey water and the hangover medicine he always took after nights like that.

I stood there for a moment with both in my hands.

I had already decided to disappear. His comfort, his temper, his sleepless nights were no longer supposed to be my concern.

And yet my body still remembered him before my mind could stop it.

Maybe that was the cruelest part of loving someone for too many years. Even after deciding to leave, some habits refused to die.

In the end, I took my coat and headed for the dockside casino.

At the door of the private booth, I heard voices inside.

“Shouldn’t you at least check on Seraphina?” one of them asked. “That heart condition of hers was serious before. What if something really happened this time?”

Zane let out a low laugh, his voice heavy with bourbon.

“Nothing’s going to happen. She’s done this before. The moment Susan needs me, Seraphina suddenly has an episode too. Susan’s doctor already said her condition is basically gone. She’s just making a scene to pull my attention back onto herself.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the bottle in my hand.

There had been a time when one call from me would have been enough.

Back then, he would drop everything, rush across the city, and hold me through the worst of it.

He used to stay awake all night beside me, afraid I might stop breathing if he looked away.

Now, the only person he ever worried about was Susan.

There was a brief silence inside.

Then he added, more impatiently, “She’s always had a sharp tongue when it comes to Susan. The darker Susan’s moods get, the harsher Seraphina gets with her. At this point, I can tell exactly what this is. She wants me worried. She wants Susan pushed away. That’s all.”

Something in my chest twisted, then went completely still.

It didn’t matter anymore.

In three days, I would be gone.

And this time, I would leave everything behind—including him.

Then someone inside glanced toward the door and spotted me.

“Don,” he said with a half-laugh, “looks like your wife came after all.”

The voices inside paused.

Zane looked up and saw me standing there.

“So you came after all,” he said, his voice low with drink. “What, you cooled off and came to take me home?”

I said nothing.

Behind him, Susan looked up in surprise. “Weren’t we staying out all night? Didn’t you say we were going to the next place after this?”

Zane didn’t even look back at her when he answered.

“Not tonight.”

Then he turned to me again, his tone already shifting into something softer.

“There’s a storm coming in later. Thunderstorms.She hate thunder. I’m going home with her.”

It was said so naturally, as if nothing had happened. As if all he had to do was stand up, decide the night was over, and everything between us would return to the way it had always been.

He picked up his coat and stepped out of the booth.

No explanation. No apology.

We walked across the street to where my car was parked.

As we stepped into the road, Zane’s hand shot out and yanked me back hard against his chest. A motorcycle had come flying around the corner, the rider reaching for my purse.

If he hadn’t pulled me back, it would’ve been a lot worse than just losing my bag.

He immediately called his men, barking orders to hunt down the crew the rider belonged to, then turned back to me, his voice sharp with frantic worry.

“You’ve been walking on the razor’s edge for years, and you didn’t even see that coming?”

He laced his fingers through mine, his palm warm and rough with calluses, and pulled me across the street.

For a split second, I was transported back to when we were kids, to every time he’d shielded me from the world.

It had been so long since he’d touched me like that.

I pulled my hand away the second we reached the sidewalk, without a word.

The next morning, I grabbed my bag to head down to the family docks. Zane blocked my path before I could reach the door.

“You can take the helicopter. It’ll save you the drive through city traffic. I’ll take you to the heliport.”

I had barely slept a few hours the night before, so I didn’t argue.

I followed him to the car and reached for the passenger door, only to stop short.

The front seat was cluttered with half-used makeup, lip gloss, a silk scarf, and several blister packs of medication.

All of it was unmistakably Susan’s.

For a moment, I just stood there.

Once, Zane had told me that seat was mine.

He said no one else would ever sit beside him where I sat.

Zane noticed where my eyes had landed and spoke before I could say a word.

“Susan’s car broke down a few days ago. I’ve been taking her to the hospital, so some of her things got left behind.” His voice was low, almost matter-of-fact. “Don’t overthink it.”

Don’t overthink it.

As if the problem was not that another woman’s things had taken over the seat he once swore belonged only to me, but that I was unreasonable for noticing.

I said nothing.

Zane waited a beat, then added, with a trace of impatience, “She’s been in bad shape lately. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

I looked away and got into the back seat without a word.

He tried to make small talk about the docks’ management during the drive, but I only stared out the window in silence.

Thankfully, several minutes later, we arrived at the heliport. I stepped onto the helipad atop the dock office building and threw myself straight into work.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I had just reached for my mug to make a coffee when the office door swung open.

One of the dockhands came in carrying a huge crate of pastries and drinks, saying it had been sent down by the Don.

The men outside erupted into cheers.

“Damn, the Don really spoils the Donna! Said he was worried she was working too hard!”

“Lucky us, getting to ride the coattails of how much he loves her!”

Only I knew the truth.

The mango smoothies, mango sticky rice, mango tarts, all of them were Susan’s favorites.

I was just the excuse.

“Have you guys seen how much the Don’s been hanging around Susan lately?”

“Shut your mouth, the Donna’s right there!”

One of the men elbowed the other, who turned to me with an awkward smile.

“Sorry, Donna. Just messing around, don’t pay us no mind.”

I stared at the table full of mango desserts.

Susan’s favorite, through and through. And I was deathly allergic to mangoes.

Once, Zane had loved me just as fiercely.

He’d camped out at the docks for weeks on end, just to have an excuse to eat lunch with me when I was too busy to leave the office.

When I’d pushed through work in the middle of a heart episode, he’d crushed my pills into a sugar-free cake, fed it to me with a grin, and laughed at the face I made when I tasted the bitter medicine underneath.

Back then, the wind off the water had tasted sweet, just because he was there.

Now, that sweetness belonged to someone else.

I pushed the thought away, burying myself in the winery project paperwork.

I’d pulled all-nighters for weeks to get this deal over the line, and of course, I was working late again that night.

It was pitch black outside by the time I finally looked up.

Zane was standing in the doorway.

“Seraphina? You’re still working?”

I looked up, my voice cold and distant.

“Is there something you need, Don Corleone?”

He seemed thrown by the formality, but after a brief pause, he walked in.

“Susan’s been in a bad state for a while. The doctor said it would help if she had something of her own to focus on.”

Then he said quietly, “I want you to let her take over the winery project.”

He knew exactly how hard I’d fought for this deal. How many nights I’d stayed up, how many meetings I’d sat through, how much of myself I’d poured into it.

And still, he had come to me asking for it for Susan.

Because he believed I would understand.

Because he believed I would give way.

“Fine. She can have it. Tell her to come down to the docks tomorrow, and I’ll walk her through the handover.”

“I knew you’d understand.”

Then, almost like he was rewarding me for being reasonable, he reached out and brushed a hand lightly over my shoulder.

“That’s my girl.”

When I didn’t respond, the faint smile on his face faltered for a second.

“Alright,” he said, gentler now. “Don’t make that face. I’m not trying to upset you. Just help her get through this for now.”

“Stop being so stubborn with me. I know I messed up with the cellar. You’ve always wanted to go to Sicily, right? When this blows over, I’ll take you. Just the two of us.”

He glanced at me, the easy confidence already back in his eyes.

“Tomorrow’s our anniversary,” he said. “Don’t stay too late. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He said it with the same easy certainty he always had, as if one dinner and a few soft promises were enough to mend everything.

I suddenly realized how long it had been since we had spent an anniversary alone.

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

One last dinner, to close the book on us forever.