The Wife the Don Never Deserved

On every anniversary, my husband, Julian, would meticulously plan a public humiliation for me.

For our ten-year "alliance" anniversary dinner, he strode into the Caldwell family's ballroom, in front of all of Chicago's elite and mob bosses. On his arm was his latest flame, Cassidy.

"Scarlett, she's missing something on her hand. Take off that ring."

It was the emerald ring his grandmother had passed down, the one I received when I married him. The symbol of the Caldwell family matriarch.

Then, as if that wasn't cruel enough: "And the earrings. She likes the whole set."

I clutched the fabric at my neckline, a desperate attempt to hold on to my last shred of dignity. He didn't care. He seized my wrist. "Stop pretending. Your father sold you to me to pay off his gambling debts, remember? That desperate look in your eyes... I remember it well."

Everyone was staring, waiting for me to break.

So I did the only thing I could.

"Let's separate."

Again.

Julian just sneered, then threw a stack of photos onto the table—photos of my gambling-addicted father, beaten half to death and curled up in some back alley.

"You say that every year, but you always end up back in my bed. Do you think your deadbeat father will see another sunrise if these photos become his obituary? Or would you prefer a trip to the bottom of Lake Michigan for him?"

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1

The room erupted in laughter.

"Julian, how about we place a bet—how long until she comes crawling back?"

"My money's on tonight. She'll be on her knees, crying her way back into the Don's bed!"

"Count me in. Her dad can lose the value of a house in one day—without the Caldwell family, he wouldn't even be alive!"

Cassidy shoved the emerald ring in my face, her smile sickeningly sweet. "I don't have much, but I'll put a hundred dollars on it—she's not leaving him."

I stared at the ring... and then I smiled.

How pathetic.

Ten years ago, he promised my father he would take care of me. Now, he was putting the family ring on another woman's hand just to turn me into a laughingstock.

A light, bitter laugh escaped my lips.

God, I was pathetic too—for letting him destroy me for so long.

"I've already signed the separation agreement. All it needs is your signature."

I had threatened to leave him a thousand times.

But this was the first time I had taken real action—a real separation agreement.

I took off a diamond stud he had once given me, dropped it on the document, and slid it across the table to him.

His face froze, his expression one of pure disbelief.

The shadow that had clung to him for a decade was finally walking away.

Then he sneered and ripped the agreement in two.

"Still playing this game? Aren't you tired of it? You throw the word 'separation' around, thinking it scares me. I've been tired of you—and this joke of a marriage—for years."

My expression didn't change. I just pulled another identical agreement from my clutch. "Fine. Then sign it."

He shoved Cassidy aside and ripped off his bow tie, his eyes blazing.

"That paper means nothing. You belong to the Caldwell family, Scarlett, body and soul. Who else would want you? Without us, who pays for your leech of a father? Who keeps your comatose mother breathing in that nursing home?"

I said nothing. I just turned to leave.

Julian grabbed me, slamming me hard against the floor-to-ceiling window.

A sharp pain lanced through my back. I gasped.