This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters.

The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer.

For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives.

If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month.

Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon.

"To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!"

"The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!"

Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me.

Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering,

"Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna."

"I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand."

I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask.

Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end."

I'm going to vanish from your world completely.

That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself.

This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters.

The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer.

For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives.

If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month.

Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon.

"To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!"

"The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!"

Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me.

Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering,

"Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna."

"I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand."

I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask.

Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end."

I'm going to vanish from your world completely.

That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself.

...

A shaken bottle of champagne exploded overhead as everyone in the private room erupted into a frenzy.

They were celebrating the Corinni family's youngest, most untamable wolf finally slipping his girlfriend's leash.

One moment I was the revered future Donna of the family, the next I was a ghost in the corner, unnoticed.

Dante was rebellious by nature. He usually scoffed at this kind of crass celebration, and his men practically had to beg him to make an appearance.

That was precisely what made this annual "Month of No Masters" all the more thrilling.

Dante and I met in Colombia. The youngest mafia heir and the most talented designer.

Youth is the most combustible kind of danger.

The collision of his raw wildness and my quiet composure had been the talk of the town.

But over time, even the most potent attraction wears thin.

On the anniversary of our fourth year of dating, I had just blown out the candles.

Dante's long fingers, holding a cigar, paused. He stared at me through the smoke.

"Aurora, after four years of sleeping next to the same face, don't you feel suffocated?"

I looked up, stunned, only to see his eyes, as deep and dark as an abyss.

They swirled with emotions I couldn't comprehend.

He suddenly pinned me against the wall, his searing lips tracing my collarbone as he coaxed in a low, husky voice, "To keep our relationship passionate forever, starting today, give me one month of absolute freedom every year. We don't interfere with each other."

"If one of us finds someone more exciting, we let go gracefully. If not, when the month is up, you are still my Donna."

I jolted back in shock, knocking over our custom-made cake. The colored frosting splattered across the floor like a chaotic abstract painting.

With his arms now empty, Dante's jaw tensed. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles in annoyance, but his eyes held a fanatical glint. "Promise me, will you?"

Perhaps it was the shock, but my limbs felt numb.

But I had my own pride. I bit out, "Fine."

Seeing me yield, the tension in Dante's shoulders instantly eased, his eyes alight with the thrill of getting his way.

The first time we entered the Month of No Masters, I used family contacts to track his every move, almost torturing myself.

I obsessively compared every woman he was with to myself.

Did they hold hands? Did they hug? Did they sleep together?

Every sordid rumor was a new wound.

My sanity frayed. I would wake up on our cold bed in the middle of the night, shaking with despair.

One night, when I couldn't bear it any longer, I called him. He answered immediately. He didn't complain about the interruption or accuse me of spying.

Instead, he told me a childish fairy tale in a gentle voice, lulling me to sleep.

"Aurora, is this month too hard on you?"

The next day, with three days still left in the month, we reconciled early, ending the game.

On our fifth anniversary, I thought he wouldn't bring it up again. I was wrong.

And now, this is the ninth year.

The same drama, year after year.

He insisted on draining every last second from those thirty days. A minute less, and the month wasn't whole, his freedom incomplete.

It had become the most sensational gossip in the entire criminal underworld. Every year on this day, enormous sums of money flowed into the betting pool.

The odds of us reconciling were one-to-one. The odds of us breaking up for good were one-to-a-hundred.

A cloying wave of perfume washed over me as Victoria sat down beside me with a sly laugh.

"Aurora, what are you betting on this year?"

I gave a faint smile. "I'm just watching."

I lied.

This time, I was betting against us.

Victoria was the woman from Dante's first 'Month of No Masters.' It had only lasted twenty-seven days.

She was a civilian who had stumbled into our twisted game, and the truth had left her bitter.

Dante brought her into the fold as compensation.

After years in this life, the once-inconspicuous civilian girl had been forged into an elegant and striking woman.

I raised the glass of whiskey in front of me and toasted her. "I didn't bet on anything."

A capo, slurring "long live freedom," passed by with a wink. "Our future Donna must be praying that Boss doesn't get snatched up by some little vixen out there, so he'll come crawling back to you."

"Right, Aurora?"

Victoria shooed him away, then turned back to advise me, "He's playing, so you should play too. Why tie yourself down to one man?"

"You should go find some fun of your own. There are plenty of men in New York."

I swirled the ice in my glass and leaned closer to her ear. "If you want to win big, bet with me. You won't regret it."

Victoria's head snapped around, her eyes flashing with astonishment.

But before she could ask, a chorus of screams and whistles erupted from the center of the dance floor, drowning out our conversation.

"Whoa!"

The spotlight focused on one spot, where Dante was dancing a tango, his arm wrapped around a girl with a slim, pale waist.

I could feel the raw chemistry crackling between them.

"It's only been five minutes and Dante's already picked someone. Looks a little risky for you again, Aurora. Maybe I should change my bet? Is it too late?"

"Wait, her face looks familiar."

As someone said it, I realized it too. That face was indeed familiar.

Scarlett. She was last year's thirty-days lover.

Scarlett was a wildfire, the complete opposite of me.

She wore an extremely short leather skirt, wild, unrestrained, and full of a primal energy.

It was a feeling I could never give him.

For me, a month was just thirty ordinary nights. Dante would accompany me to art exhibitions and wine tastings, over and over.

But for her, it was a kaleidoscope of color.

She took Dante diving and skydiving, doing every adrenaline-pumping, dangerous thing imaginable. For their grand finale, she coaxed Dante into doing something insane.

She ran an underground racing club and provoked Dante into crossing the line into Brooklyn, the territory of a rival family, to compete in an illegal midnight street race.

When I heard the news, I was sick with worry, unable to sleep. But Dante rejected all my calls.

I dropped my work and chased after them, using family resources to forcibly block both ends of the overpass.

In the cold night wind, I forced the roaring Aston Martin to a stop.

"You have no experience. You can't participate in a street race."

Dante toyed with the car keys, unconcerned. "You're crossing a line, Aurora. This is my free time. Besides, Scarlett will protect me."

Scarlett, sitting in the passenger seat chewing gum, shot me a provocative look. "Well, if it isn't Dante's killjoy of a babysitter."

The words froze in my throat, each one a painful shard of ice.

I felt like I'd lost the ability to speak, just staring straight at Dante.

He avoided my gaze.

I silently stepped aside to let them pass. Scarlett's triumphant laughter pierced the engine's roar, striking my ears.

As I drove away, I thought, it's finally over. I'm finally free.

But ten minutes later, Dante caught up to me.

"Aurora, I'll do whatever you say. I won't race."

Later that night, Scarlett went to the race alone and got into an accident.

The moment Dante got the news, his expression changed. He shot me a glare, then spun around and rushed to the hospital.

Dante himself wheeled Scarlett's stretcher.

She'd broken her leg; her calf was twisted at a gruesome angle.

She grabbed my hand, her voice a pitiful whimper. "Aurora, I don't blame you, but you two are broken up now. I'm begging you, please stop clinging to him."

Scornful, disdainful, and contemptuous glares fell on me. I was so ashamed I wanted to disappear.

After nine years of dating, I had become the other woman.

After she was hospitalized, Dante cleared out the family's top private medical center for her, neglecting family business and his own health to stay by her bedside day and night.

For three whole months, Dante completely shattered the rules of the Month of No Masters. He never once came back.

During that time, the stress from the family alliance and his betrayal triggered a severe stomach hemorrhage.

I lay in the intensive care unit, surrounded by the cold beeping of machines. He never even called.

"Since when did she learn to fake an illness? Besides, she has all of you to take care of her. Scarlett only has me."

The entire New York underworld was gossiping that the Corinni family's future Donna was about to be replaced.

I believed it myself.

But just as everyone was preparing to laugh at my expense, he pushed open the door to my apartment again.

Apparently, he and Scarlett had a sudden, sharp breakup. He had insisted on coming back to me, even when Scarlett threatened her own life.

Late that night, he held me in his arms, his breath a hot whisper against my ear. "Aurora, that was just me repaying a debt to her."

"You are the only Donna of the Corinni family. That will never change."

I saw the faint red mark on his collarbone, and the acid in my stomach churned again.

The moonlight outside was like liquid silver. I said faintly,

"In that case, let's get married immediately."

The tender look on Dante's face froze. He let go of me, turned silently, and walked to the bar to pour himself a whiskey.

The sharp clink of ice against the glass was deafening.

The tango's rhythm grew faster, shifting from a slow dance to a wild Latin beat. The two of them spun wildly in the center of the room, clinging to each other as Scarlett's short skirt flew higher and higher.

She was the only one in nine years to break the rules and get an "encore."

If I was cool water, she was straight whiskey, a fire in his veins that tempted him toward the abyss.

The music stopped abruptly. They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"Dante, you really didn't lie to me," Scarlett panted, pressing herself against him.

"For you, I'd toss the rules out the window," Dante said with a wicked grin.

"It's your fault for saying you couldn't live without me. I'm just too soft-hearted."

Her slender hand roamed over his chest. He had an old wound there, and though he grunted in faint pain, he didn't stop her.

How ridiculous. Even now, I was still worried about his injury.

Just as Scarlett's hand was about to venture further under his shirt, he caught it tenderly and dropped to one knee, pulling something from his inner pocket.

The room, which had been as loud as a carnival, fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Scarlett's eyes went wide with disbelief as she clamped a hand over her mouth.

A black velvet box opened slowly, revealing a dazzling necklace.

At its heart was a rare blue sapphire, set on a platinum chain that cascaded like a meteor's tail.

It was breathtaking, the ultimate fusion of power and wealth.

Everyone held their breath.

Dante looked up, his gaze intense. "You gave me the ultimate thrill of a midnight race. So tonight, I'm giving you the sky from that night."

Scarlett nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face, catching the blue light of the sapphire.

Dante stood and personally fastened the heavy necklace around her pale neck.

I stared at that necklace, speechless for a long time.

A sharp pain pierced my heart. The betrayal was a suffocating tide, and it was drowning me.

My stomach cramped violently, and my vision began to go dark.

Victoria frowned beside me. "Aurora, you look terrible."

I didn't even have the strength to speak. I could only push her away and stagger towards the lounge, escaping.

The lights in the hallway twisted and blurred.

Time seemed to warp, throwing me back to a month ago.

As the anniversary approached, Dante had been unusually restless, always seeming on the verge of saying something.

When I asked, he requested that I design and craft a brand-new necklace, using a rare, heirloom blue sapphire from the family.

Outwardly I was calm, but inside, I erupted with ecstatic joy.

Because I remembered a time, in a moment of passion, when he had kissed my fingers and caressed my bare collarbone, promising me solemnly.

"Aurora, this necklace will only ever be worn by the true future Donna."

I thought he was finally going to marry me.

Time was short, and I worked nonstop.

From the initial sketches to the polishing and setting, to the final cleaning and maintenance, I did everything myself.

My morning sickness was severe then, and I wore loose robes to hide my changing figure. But he was so wrapped up in his coming freedom that he never even noticed my unusual fatigue and nausea.

I refused to delegate a single detail, thinking it was a symbol of honor for my own wedding, something I had to create myself.

It turned out that while I was eagerly awaiting a proposal on our anniversary, he was excitedly waiting to embrace Scarlett again.

He had taken my memories, my heart, and the work of my own hands, and given it all to her.

"Miss, are you all right? Should I call an ambulance?"

A voice calling my name pulled me back to the present.

So I had passed out. A broken heart, it turned out, could literally knock you out.

Time seemed to warp. I felt as if an eternity had passed, but it had only been a few heartbeats.

A heart can hurt so much it sends you into shock.

I coldly brushed away the bodyguard's outstretched hand and used the cold wall to pull myself up.

I walked resolutely towards the club's main entrance. I couldn't breathe this air for another second.

The New York wind was cold and damp, cutting at my face like a knife.

The family car hadn't arrived yet. The revolving door behind me pushed open.

Dante came out, carrying Scarlett in his arms. The coat I had picked out for him was draped over her shoulders.

He looked up sharply, his eyes meeting my dead, cold stare. He clearly hadn't expected me to still be there.

Caught in the act, he at least had the decency to look ashamed. "Aurora, her injury hasn't fully healed. She needs better care, so I..."

He trailed off, probably realizing how inappropriate that sounded.

Seeing his reaction, my muddled brain slowly, painfully understood. They had never cut ties.

No matter what month it was, they had maintained their relationship.

His mind was so consumed by Scarlett's so-called injury that he didn't even see me, pale and shivering in the cold.

Their car arrived first. Dante said to me, "See you in a bit."

"Never again."

My voice was a whisper, lost to the wind. He didn't hear.