"Good afternoon, ma'am. You just walked out of Boston City Hall looking absolutely radiant. Any special occasion to celebrate?"

"I'm getting divorced."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Would you mind telling me what happened?"

"He's been bedding his late right-hand man's sister. In my art studio, on my yacht, across my private study desk, and even on the grand piano in our living room. He thought I didn't know."

"I can't imagine how much this hurts. I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Where are you heading now?"

"The hospital. Prenatal checkup."

...

The interview went viral within hours for her calm, unflinching recounting of the betrayal and the shocking contrast between her glamorous mafia wife identity and her devastating situation.

It didn't take long for netizens to dig out my identity, and the entire world now knows the woman in that video is me.

Elena, Donna of the Moretti family.

Three years ago, Vincenzo Moretti, the undisputed Don who ruled Boston's underworld with an iron fist, threw me a wedding that made headlines across the nation.

Back then, everyone envied me, calling me the luckiest woman alive.

But now? That interview had been online for nearly two days, and Vincenzo was still lost in his little love nest.

By the time Vincenzo finally bothered to watch the video his men had forwarded to him,

I was already in New Zealand.

The whole world knew I was leaving Vincenzo Moretti.

He was the last person on earth to find out.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. You just walked out of Boston City Hall looking absolutely radiant. Any special occasion to celebrate?"

"I'm getting divorced."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Would you mind telling me what happened?"

"He's been bedding his late right-hand man's sister. In my art studio, on my yacht, across my private study desk, and even on the grand piano in our living room. He thought I didn't know."

"I can't imagine how much this hurts. I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Where are you heading now?"

"The hospital. Prenatal checkup."

The interview went viral within hours for her calm, unflinching recounting of the betrayal and the shocking contrast between her glamorous mafia wife identity and her devastating situation.

It didn't take long for netizens to dig out my identity, and the entire world now knows the woman in that video is me.

Elena, Donna of the Moretti family.

Three years ago, Vincenzo Moretti, the undisputed Don who ruled Boston's underworld with an iron fist, threw me a wedding that made headlines across the nation.

Back then, everyone envied me, calling me the luckiest woman alive.

But now? That interview had been online for nearly two days, and Vincenzo was still lost in his little love nest.

By the time Vincenzo finally bothered to watch the video his men had forwarded to him,

I was already in New Zealand.

The whole world knew I was leaving Vincenzo Moretti.

He was the last person on earth to find out.

...

"Three working days, Mrs. Moretti. We'll contact you when the visa is ready."

I tucked the paper into my coat pocket and turned to leave.

The whispers followed me like shadows, sharp and breathless.

"Did she just say Moretti? The Don's wife is leaving Boston?"

"She can't be. He'd burn the city to the ground before he let her walk away. Remember the hit two years ago? Some idiot took a shot at her outside the opera house. He had every member of the Irish mob in Southie executed."

"And last spring when her car got keyed? He bought the entire parking garage and had every attendant's hands broken. She has twenty-four-seven security detail, three made men rotating shifts. Where are they now?"

A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Once Vincenzo had kept an army between me and the world.

Now he couldn't even be bothered to notice when I slipped out alone.

I'd dismissed my detail that morning with a lie about visiting my mother's grave, and they'd left without a second thought.

The Don's attention was elsewhere these days.

Everyone in the family knew how Vincenzo "worshipped" me.

I still remember the night we met.

It was at a charity gala at the Museum of Fine Arts.

For three months, he sent a dozen black roses to my apartment every morning.

He bought me a penthouse studio overlooking the Charles River.

For my twenty-fifth birthday, he closed down Symphony Hall and had the Boston Philharmonic play only my favorite compositions, just for the two of us.

When my parents were gunned down by a corrupt police captain who'd been shaking down their restaurant, Vincenzo walked away from a two-billion-dollar deal to take over the New York waterfront.

Three days later, the captain's body was found floating in the harbor with a bullet in his brain.

"Elena, no one will ever hurt you again. I'll burn the world down before I let anything happen to you."

Back then, I believed him.

I gave him my heart.

But love can't change the blood in a man's veins.

Ten months ago, Marco, his underboss and oldest friend, died in a shootout with the Colombian cartel.

Vincenzo swore he'd take care of Marco's little sister, Lila.

He moved her into the guest wing of our mansion, gave her a black American Express card, and told the family she was under his protection.

We had been trying for a child for over two years with no success, and the family's pressure had been mounting by the day.

Then I found a diamond earring in my studio, lying on the floor next to my easel.

Then I started noticing the late nights at the"warehouse,"the secret phone calls, the way he flinched when I touched his phone.

That's when I knew. This time, I wouldn't stay.

I pushed open the front door of the mansion, and the sickly sweet scent of jasmine hit me like a fist to the gut.

There they were.

Vincenzo was standing on a ladder in the grand foyer, stringing crystal garlands above the marble fireplace.

Lila was below him, handing him the strands.

The door clicked shut behind me.

Vincenzo froze, then turned slowly, that familiar warm smile spreading across his face—the same smile that had once made my knees weak.

"Elena, amore. You're home early. I thought you were at the gallery all day. I was planning a surprise for your twenty-eighth birthday."

Surprise.

My eyes dropped to his neck.

There it was, bright and purple against his olive skin—a fresh hickey, staring back at me like a taunt.

My chest tightened, but I kept my face blank.

Lila's giggle cut through the silence.

"He's been working on this since six this morning, Elena. Even if your birthday is still a few days away！ He even had the florists fly in your favorite black roses from Amsterdam. Look at all the presents!"

She gestured to a mountain of wrapped boxes in the corner.

My gaze followed her hand, and I saw the indentations of two bodies on my couch.

So this was love. They'd slept together there, right next to the birthday gifts he'd bought me.

The pain spread through my chest like wildfire, but I didn't flinch.

I just stood there, watching him, as he walked over to me with a velvet box in his hand.

He opened it, revealing a stunning sapphire necklace surrounded by diamonds.

"Happy birthday, my love. I booked the entire top floor of the Top of the Hub for dinner tonight. Just the two of us."

As Vincenzo spoke and moved in to hug me, my stomach turned violently, and I began to dry heave.

Vincenzo shot up instantly, his face pale with panic.

He grabbed his phone and called three private doctors.

The doctors fussed over me, taking my temperature and checking my pulse. One of them leaned in, pressing a stethoscope to my stomach, and his expression shifted.

I tensed up, my heart racing as he opened his mouth to speak.

"This looks like—"

A sharp ring from Vincenzo's phone cut him off.

He glanced at the screen, cursed under his breath, and stepped out of the room to take the call.

When he came back, he was already grabbing his jacket. "I have an emergency at the docks. I'll be back as soon as I can."

As soon as the door closed, I grabbed the doctor's arm.

"Don't tell him about the pregnancy. My birthday is in a few days. I want to tell him myself as a surprise."

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The baby growing inside me wasn't just a surprise for him—it was the final “gift” I'd give him before I walked away forever.

Later that night, I woke up again, my throat dry and scratchy.

I slipped out of bed and walked down the hallway to the kitchen.

And froze.

The door to the guest wing was wide open. Moonlight streamed through the windows, illuminating two naked bodies tangled in the sheets.

Lila's voice drifted down the hallway.

"That sapphire necklace you gave her must have cost millions. All I asked for was a simple diamond ring, and you said no."

Vincenzo pushed her off his lap and sat up, lighting a cigarette.

"How dare you compare yourself to her? She's the woman I love with all my heart, my Donna. Know your place. I'm only doing this because Elena hasn't been able to get pregnant, and the family needs an heir."

Lila pouted and wrapped her arms around his neck, stamping her foot petulantly.

"I know. And besides, I'm more likely to get pregnant only when I'm in a good mood, you know?"

Vincenzo sighed, then reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a sapphire necklace exactly like the one he'd given me—same cut, same carat, just a slightly different chain.

"I bought you one too. But you can't wear it. If Elena finds out, she'll leave. And if she leaves, I'll go crazy."

Lila's face lit up. She kissed him greedily, her hands tangling in his hair.

"You really love her so much? Vincenzo?"

"Of course I love her." His voice dropped to a low, reverent tone, no trace of mockery.

"She's the most important woman in my life. My Donna will only ever be her. All these silly games I play with you? I'd never dare do them to her. It would be a desecration."

He pushed her back down onto the bed, and her moans echoed through the silent house.

I pressed my hand hard against my mouth, biting down until I tasted blood, to muffle my sobs.

Our wedding photo hung on the wall right beside me.

In it, Vincenzo was smiling, his arms wrapped around me, looking like the happiest man alive. It was a lie. Everything had been a lie.

Three more days, and I'm gone.

I woke up the next morning to find Vincenzo in the living room, hosting a business associate.

We were all sipping coffee when the front door slammed open.

The associate's wife stormed in, her face contorted with rage, and slapped him hard across the face.

"You bastard! You've been cheating on me with your secretary for six months! I quit my job to take care of our family, and this is how you repay me?"

The man turned bright red, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

"Shut the fuck up! All men cheat. It's just how it is. Get over it."

Vincenzo's face turned ice cold.

He stepped forward, yanking the man's hand off his wife and shoving him backward.

"Get out of my house. And don't ever show your face around me again. I don't do business with men who betray their wives."

He watched the man stumble out, then turned to me, his expression softening instantly.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close.

"Don't listen to that garbage, amore. He's a worthless piece of shit. Not all men are like that. I would never hurt you like that. You're the only one for me, always."

I looked up into his dark eyes.

He stilled for a heartbeat, then cupped my face in his hands.

"I will only ever love you. I would never betray you. Never."

I searched his face, looking for any hint of the truth. But there was nothing.

"You'll love me for a lifetime?"I whispered."But a lifetime is so long."

He pulled me close, pressing his forehead against mine.

"It is. But my life means nothing without you. You're my everything."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"What if you do betray me? What then?"

"If I ever betray you," he swore, "may a bullet find my heart before the sun sets. I swear it on my father's grave."

The vow was almost funny.

His skin still reeked of jasmine. His sheets were stained with Lila's lipstick. And yet he could stand here and swear his loyalty like he meant every single word.

"You really mean that?"

"I swear it. No one in this world knows how deep my love for you runs. If you don't believe me, take my gun right now and put a bullet in my heart."

I stared at him, thinking, If you're so willing to give me your life, why can't you just control yourself?

Before I could say anything, a voice cut in from the doorway.

"Good morning, you two."

Lila was standing there, wearing a tight black silk dress that left nothing to the imagination.

She leaned lazily against the doorframe, a slow smile playing on her lips.

Vincenzo's arms tightened around me, his jaw clenching.

"Why are you dressed like that? Where the hell are you going?"

It wasn't the voice of a man looking out for his dead friend's sister. It was the voice of a man who thought he owned her.

Lila's smile widened.

"There's a charity luncheon at the Ritz today. I thought I'd go find myself a nice boyfriend. That way, you don't have to worry about me anymore."

Vincenzo's eyes darkened with possessive rage, but Lila just turned to me.

"What about you, Elena? Any plans for today?"

Vincenzo didn't let me answer. His fingers laced through mine, squeezing so tight it hurt.

"Elena and I are going to the Il Nonno’s for Sunday lunch. She's been asking for us nonstop. The whole family will be there."

She gave a polite little nod, said goodbye, and walked away, leaving behind that faint, sickening scent of jasmine.

And Vincenzo? He still hadn't let go of my hand.

Thirty minutes later, the armored Mercedes pulled up to the iron gates of Il Nonno’s—the Moretti family’s oldest front.

Vincenzo’s parents had never accepted me.

To them, I was nothing but a street rat with a paintbrush who’d tricked their golden boy into a morganatic marriage.

Only Don Salvatore, his grandfather, had ever looked at me as anything more than a liability.

They’d never forgiven me for failing to give them a male heir to run the rackets, and after three years of marriage with no pregnancy, their contempt curdled into something venomous.

Every Sunday lunch felt like walking into a room full of loaded guns, all pointed at me.

This time, his mother had called at dawn. She said it was family business. I had no choice but to show up.

We stepped into the dimly lit dining room.

His parents were sitting at the head table, sipping espresso. The second their eyes landed on me, their forced smiles dropped.

I kept my gaze fixed on the tablecloth, but Vincenzo noticed. His hand tightened around mine.

“If you two keep treating my wife like garbage, we won’t be coming back. Ever.”

The room went dead silent.

His father slammed his espresso cup so hard against the marble tabletop it shattered.The waiters scrambled to clean up the mess without making a sound.

“Watch your mouth, boy!” he snarled. “Are you really going to turn your back on your own blood for this whore?”

Vincenzo pulled me closer, his jaw clenched.

“Elena is the only woman I’ll ever love. The only person in this world who matters to me. If you can’t respect that, you can keep your damn empire. I don’t want it.”

The mafia boss who could order a hit with a flick of his wrist sounded like a devoted husband willing to burn everything down for me.

It was almost convincing.

After a long, tense silence, his mother sighed,

“Fine.”

Lunch passed in a suffocating quiet.

His mother kept shooting me disgusted glances, and I gripped my fork so tight my knuckles turned white.

I knew what was coming.

She dropped her fork with a clatter.

“Enough waiting. It’s been three years. The Moretti bloodline can’t die with you.”

“Get pregnant.Give us a son.”

The words sliced through me like a switchblade, but before I could speak, Vincenzo set his fork down.

“I told you both.I won’t force her to have a child right now. If we never have a kid, so be it.”

Their faces twisted with rage. Just as they were about to explode, I spoke, my voice steady and calm.

“You’ll have your grandson.”

The room froze. Three pairs of eyes snapped to me.

Vincenzo squeezed my hand, his face painted with that fake, sickening concern.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this. I don’t care about an heir. I only care about you.”

I almost laughed. Care about me? He couldn't even stay faithful long enough to finish a family dinner.

I smiled anyway.

“You want a grandson so badly. Let’s make it happen.”

Their faces softened instantly, greedy and pleased. But Vincenzo looked uneasy, like he could sense the trap but couldn’t see the wire.

Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and I caught the name: Lila.

Vincenzo, the charity luncheon is a mess. I need you here now to go over it.

He stood up, grabbing his jacket.

“Elena, I have to run back to the house to handle some business. Stay and finish lunch. I’ll send a car for you later.”

He didn’t wait for me to answer. He just walked out the door.

The second the door shut, all pretense vanished.

“You have two months,” his mother hissed. “If you’re not pregnant by then, don’t ever show your face here again. We’ll throw you out on the street.”

And Vincenzo? He never came back.

He finally showed up at seven that evening, calm and relaxed.

We got into the car, and I stared out the window.

“Everything okay?” I asked lightly.

He hesitated for a split second, then nodded.

“Yeah. It was nothing major.”

The silence stretched for minutes.

Then he said, “Did my parents give you a hard time after I left?”

I was about to answer when my eyes fell on the floor between the seats. A single pearl earring. Not mine. I’d seen it before—on Lila’s ear.

So that's where he'd been. Not going over contracts. Sleeping with her in the backseat of our car.

Three years of marriage. I’d always been quiet, reserved.

Once, I’d asked him if he found me boring. If he wanted me to be more like the other mob wives.

He’d held me close, kissing the top of my head.

“Baby, I don’t want other women. I want you. Don’t ever change for anyone.”

But the man who’d said those words now reeked of jasmine and lies.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What do you think?”

He thought I was talking about his parents. He had no idea I’d already seen through every single one of his lies.

He slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over to the side of the road. He pulled me into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Elena. I shouldn’t have left you alone with them. I promise it’ll never happen again.”

His embrace felt like a cage. I pressed my hands against his chest, pushing him away gently.

“Just drive, Vincenzo. I’m tired.”

I stared out the window at the passing streetlights, the pearl earring burning a hole in my pocket.

One more day, and I'd be gone.

And this time, I'd leave forever.