Seeing Vincent protectively hovering over me the whole time, even personally handing me my food, the mob wives all gathered around to gossip.

"Mia, you have no idea. The Don is notoriously cold-blooded to everyone else. Anyone who screws up gets dumped straight into the Hudson River, but to you, he's incredibly tender!"

"I heard the Don even let you handle the dividends from a few of his casinos. When will my deadbeat husband have even half the Don's sense!"

Everyone playfully showered me with compliments.

Just then, a fake, cold scoff came from the edge of the crowd.

"Isn't that just what a man is supposed to do?"

Everyone turned around. The one speaking was a slender woman wearing a plunging burgundy gown.

She fiddled with her fresh manicure, her face full of disdain.

I glanced up. Someone next to me whispered, "That's Chloe, the Don's chief secretary. She usually relies on some connections within the mob to act arrogant. Even some of the capos don't dare mess with her."

"Who knows what kind of big-shot boyfriend she's seeing. He treats her like royalty, spoiling her with different luxury gifts every single day."

Of course I knew who that big shot was, because intimate photos of her and Vincent filled the burner phone's gallery, each one stinging my eyes.

I ignored the idle gossip.

My gaze was locked dead onto the pink diamond necklace hanging around Chloe's neck.

The diamond was exquisitely cut, dazzling under the lights.

I recognized it.

This was the "Heart of True Love," won by a mystery buyer for an astronomical price at an underground black market auction last month.

At the time, Vincent hugged me from behind and personally promised that the necklace was being resized by a craftsman and would be my most perfect birthday gift this year.

But now, this necklace representing "true love" was blatantly hanging around his mistress's neck.

The other women obviously noticed the necklace too, and they all gasped in unison.

"My God, Chloe, who exactly is this boyfriend of yours? That necklace costs a fortune!"

Chloe tilted her chin up, looking at me with a haughty expression: "My boyfriend said I'm his one true love in this life. As long as it's something I want, he'd even give me his life."

My hand gripped my wine glass in a death choke, my nails practically digging into my palm.

The others didn't know, but I knew all too well.

Chloe hadn't just stolen Vincent's body; she had even taken the promises and sweet nothings he once gave to me.

Lucas, the Family's consigliere and Vincent's top strategist, was walking over with a glass in hand.

I thought he was going to greet me, but to my surprise, he walked over to Chloe and gave her a warm hug.

"Chloe, darling, I heard the shipment volume at Brooklyn's Pier 3 doubled recently, all thanks to your restructuring of the logistics chain. The Don certainly has a good eye for people. Your operational skills are right up there with the old capos."

Chloe smiled coyly, her gaze cutting through the crowd and sweeping toward me with a hint of provocation. "Oh, please, the Don is just a great teacher. He said the old protocols were too rigid, so he gave me full authority to improve them. Even I didn't expect those old dockworkers to listen to me so well."

My heart felt like it had been violently smashed by a sledgehammer.

Brooklyn's Pier 3 was the "heartland" I had spent two whole years cleaning up after taking over the Family's legal affairs.

From greasing the palms at customs to sorting the cargo, I built every single process with my own two hands.

Vincent once said that it was his gift to me, something to help me secure my footing within the Family.

But now, behind my back, he had effortlessly handed over my territory, my achievements, and even the authority I had worked so hard to establish, straight to his secretary.

The man who once said we would stand side by side through life and death had turned around and hung the spoils of war around another woman's neck, giving away my hard work as if it were nothing.

Reality was like a resounding slap right across my face.

I forced a stiff smile and dropped a cold remark: "Very well."

At least, it's time for me to wake up from this dream.

Back home after the dinner party, Vincent saw I wasn't looking well and personally cooked me a steak.

But I didn't take a single bite.

Everything that had happened lingered in my mind like an endless nightmare.

Watching Vincent's back as he busied himself in the kitchen, I really wanted to rush up and demand an answer: How exactly do you split a heart in two?

On one hand, risking his life to protect me during a shootout; on the other hand, giving all his indulgence and favoritism to Chloe.

But the words reached the tip of my tongue, and I swallowed them back down.

I became increasingly silent.

Vincent noticed my unusual demeanor. He wiped his hands and walked over. "Baby, what's wrong? Is the steak not to your liking?"

Just as I was about to speak, his encrypted burner phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen and hung up without hesitation.

But the caller was relentless and immediately dialed again.

Leaning against the counter, my tone was completely flat. "Answer it. What if it's an emergency with the Family?"

Vincent finally walked out to the balcony to pick it up.

A few minutes later, he came back, his face full of apology. "Mia, I'm sorry. There's been a hiccup with the smuggling route at the Brooklyn pier. I have to go handle it personally."

I nodded, not stopping him.

Once the roar of his sports car faded away, I picked up my phone.

A message popped up from an informant I had planted:

[The Don didn't go to the pier. His car is parked at a high-rise apartment in Manhattan.]

I let out a self-deprecating laugh, grabbed my keys, and drove my Porsche, following the GPS tracker I'd planted on his car.

The car weaved through downtown and finally stopped beneath a highly discreet luxury apartment building in Manhattan.

I rolled down my window and instantly spotted Chloe in the garage.

She hadn't even changed out of her evening gown and was currently leaning into Vincent's embrace, acting all coy.

Vincent killed the engine, pulled her into his arms, and the two began kissing passionately, unable to wait.

They completely failed to notice that I was sitting in the shadows barely thirty feet away, quietly watching it all unfold.

My heart ached as if it had been pierced by a bullet.

I wanted to cry, but my throat felt sealed with concrete. All I could let out was a faint, cold sneer.

I had overestimated myself.

I thought I had already accepted the fact that he was cheating, but seeing him satisfy his urges on another woman with my own eyes still made me utterly sick to my stomach.

Why?

He clearly told me back then: "My father was a piece of shit who cheated and abandoned his wife and child. I will never be the kind of trash who can't keep it in his pants."

When he saw other mob bosses fooling around, he explicitly cursed them as animals in heat.

And now?

The sound of clothing rubbing together echoed in the garage.

Chloe panted and whined, "Daddy, you ignored me all day, just focusing on keeping up appearances for that boring wife of yours."

Vincent's voice was low and husky, "Be good, I'll feed you right now."

Pushing her luck, Chloe asked, "Say, if Mia knew we were doing this in her favorite garage right now... how mad do you think she'd be?"

Vincent's movements paused, and his voice instantly filled with a violent warning: "I'm warning you to know your place, or don't blame me for getting nasty."

The garage fell silent for a moment.

After a long pause, Chloe finally pouted aggrievedly. "I was just making a joke, Don. Don't be mad."

Vincent scoffed coldly, adjusting his shirt collar. "You were the one who said you only wanted money and thrills, not a title. I've given you the best material things, but if you dare leak this to Mia and break the Family's rules, you know what it's like to be dumped in the ocean."

Chloe immediately took the hint and backed down, seductively pressing herself against him. "I'll do whatever you say."

Those sticky, wet sounds echoed again.

I couldn't listen to it anymore. I rolled up my window, slammed the gas, and reversed out of there.

On the way back, I finally couldn't suppress the churning in my stomach.

I slammed on the brakes, pulled over, pushed the door open, and puked my guts out.

Because I hadn't eaten anything all day, all that came up was stomach acid and bile.

Not only that, but a sudden, heavy cramp hit my lower abdomen, like a dull knife viciously twisting inside me. It hurt so much I broke out in a cold sweat, barely able to stand.

Finally, my vision went black, and I completely passed out.

When I woke up, the familiar smell of antiseptic from the private clinic filled my nose.

This clinic exclusively served the higher-ups of the Gambino Family.

Vincent was sitting by the bed, his eyes red from lack of sleep. Seeing me awake, he immediately grabbed my hand tightly. "Mia! How do you feel? The doctor said you passed out on the side of the road. What on earth happened?"

I instinctively pulled my hand back, not wanting to touch him.

Remembering the agonizing cramps before I fainted, I nervously looked at my trusted physician standing nearby. "Dr. Rossi, my condition..."

Dr. Rossi was an elder who had watched me grow up, and he had already caught my subtle eye signal.

He pushed up his glasses and said to Vincent without batting an eye, "Don, the Madam is simply under too much stress lately, coupled with acute gastroenteritis. She needs proper bed rest and cannot be subjected to any more shocks."

Vincent let out a sigh of relief, his face full of self-blame. "Baby, it's all my fault. Have I been too busy lately? I swear, I won't go anywhere for the next little while. I'll stay right here and keep you company."

As he was speaking, the hurried click-clack of high heels suddenly echoed from the hallway outside.

Vincent's phone rang at the same time. He glanced at it, his face drastically changing, and immediately got up and walked out.

I sneered inwardly, yanked the IV needle right out of the back of my hand, and followed him out at an unhurried pace.

At the corner of the hallway.

I watched with my own eyes as Chloe excitedly threw herself into Vincent's arms, arrogantly clutching a pregnancy test report in her hand.

"Vincent! I'm pregnant! I can't even remember how long it's been since my last period!"

My blood instantly dropped to the freezing point.

She's pregnant too?

Just then, Chloe looked over Vincent's shoulder and brazenly met my eyes. She deliberately raised her voice: "Oh, Madam, are you feeling any better?"

Vincent suddenly froze. He turned around, saw me, and his face went deathly pale.

He shoved Chloe away, so guilty his voice was trembling. "Mia, you... why are you out of bed?"

I coldly swept my gaze over the paper in her hand. "Why is Chloe here? Expecting some good news? Whose baby is it, and why isn't that all-powerful boyfriend of hers accompanying her?"

Chloe was just about to open her mouth.

Vincent beat her to the punch and interrupted her, speaking extremely fast: "She's pregnant, about eight weeks. It's... it's the baby of one of my men, Paolo. Paolo is currently hiding from the FBI's wanted list, so he asked me to look after her for a bit."

After he finished, he shot Chloe a vicious, almost murderous glare of warning.