My husband slept with his best friend's sister.

Not once, not twice, but multiple times, and he even brought her into our home. The bed, the couch, the kitchen counter. He told me he only loved me, yet his body told a different story.

I didn't even have to imagine it. I heard her voice with my own ears.

"Marcello, when are you going to divorce her? You promised me."

"Soon, baby. Not now. She's still grieving over our dead daughter."

"Poor thing. Having a mother like her… no wonder. But don't worry, I'll give you a child soon. I'll get pregnant."

"I'm counting on it."

"But tell me the truth. Do you really love her, your wife Arianna?"

"Yes. I love her."

My husband, the man everyone in this city whispered about, the cold, dangerous Don of the Castellano Family, still had the audacity to speak about love while touching another woman.

Thirteen days. That's all I needed. My travel documents would be ready by then. So I went to the consulate and filed my application.

"Hello, I'm here to apply for emigration," I said at the counter, handing over my paperwork.

The clerk glanced at me, stamped everything quickly, and slid a receipt across.

"Your application will be processed in thirteen days, ma'am. Please wait patiently."

I nodded and walked out. Behind me, I caught the sound of murmuring.

"Did I hear right? Mrs. Castellano applied for emigration?"

"She's leaving the country? But Don Castellano dotes on her more than anyone. What could've happened?"

"Remember that wedding seven years ago? Biggest event in the city. The cathedral, the five hundred guests, the old Don giving his blessing before he passed. Three years ago when she got into that car accident, Marcello gave her half his blood. Last year she went missing for an hour, and he turned the city upside down looking for her. Had every soldier in the Family on the streets. And now she's leaving him?"

I let out a quiet laugh, the kind that doesn't reach the eyes.

Yes. Everyone knew how much Marcello "doted" on me. To the outside world, I was the only woman he cared for. He was ruthless to everyone else, untouchable, feared even by his own men. Capos lowered their eyes when he entered a room. Associates crossed themselves when his name came up in conversation. But for me, he was all fireworks, diamonds, and sweet words.

I still remember how it started. He saw me once at a gathering his grandfather Don Enzo hosted and decided I was it for him. He sent gifts, luxury cars, even put on a three-day fireworks show that lit up the whole city. When I casually mentioned I liked chestnut cake, he drove through a snowstorm all night to bring one to me. He was drenched, lips blue from the cold, but the cake was still warm when he pressed it into my hands.

And when my parents died in that accident, he abandoned a billion-dollar negotiation in New York to rush back to me. He found me shaking, hollow, broken. He pulled me into his arms and whispered, "Arianna, I'm here. I'll always be by your side."

Back then, I thought he was my safe place. My Mr. Right. I gave him my whole heart.

But love doesn't stop men like Marcello from straying. Nine months ago, temptation knocked, and he answered. His best friend's sister, of all people. Giulio Santoro's own blood. He thought I'd never find out. But secrets don't stay buried forever. We had just sent our two-year-old daughter to heaven when I saw the truth. When I smelled her perfume on our couch, when I pieced together the lies, I knew I was done.

Marcello can play his games, charm the world, and tell me a thousand sweet lies. But this time, I won't stay.

I slipped my documents into my bag, flagged a cab, and told the driver to take me to the Castellano estate.

The moment I walked into the villa, something hit me. A strange, heavy smell clung to the air, sweet and bitter all at once. My stomach twisted.

And then I saw them.

Marcello was standing on a ladder, pinning decorations to the wall. Beside him, Serafina Santoro smiled like she owned the place.

When the door clicked shut behind me, Marcello turned. His hands froze mid-air, then he came down slowly, carefully. The cold Don everyone feared disappeared in an instant. His eyes softened, his lips curved into that practiced smile that used to melt me.

"Arianna, baby… why are you dressed so light? You'll catch a cold. Didn't you go out with your friends? Why'd you come home so soon? I was planning to surprise you."

Surprise.

My gaze slid up to his neck. There it was. A fresh hickey, deep and red, mocking me.

My chest squeezed, but I forced myself to blink it away.

I said nothing.

Serafina's giggle broke the silence. She walked up, swinging her hair, voice sweet but sharp. The thin gold bracelet on her right wrist caught the light as she gestured.

"Arianna, Marcello really dotes on you. He even prepared all this for your anniversary."

She pointed to a pile of gifts stacked in the corner. My eyes followed her hand and that's when I saw it. A wet patch, soaking into the fabric of the sofa beneath the gifts.

The smell. The mark. The truth.

So this was love? He really had sex with her right next to my anniversary presents?

The ache in my chest spread like fire, but I kept my lips shut.

Marcello, blind as ever, walked over with a velvet box. He opened it, lifted a bracelet, and clasped it gently around my wrist. His right hand brushed mine, and I felt the weight of his grandfather's silver ring, the old Don's signet, cold against my skin. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart. I set up a candlelit dinner for us. Just you and me."

I shivered and pulled back. "No. I don't feel well."

Every second near him felt like punishment.

He frowned instantly, all concern, all performance. He called private doctors, one after another, refusing to rest until they said I was fine. He ordered Mateo, his right-hand man, to fetch health supplements. He even brought me a glass of warm milk, pressing it into my hands until I drank it.

That night, exhaustion finally dragged me under. But when I woke in the dark, my throat was dry, I left my room for water.

And froze.

The door across the hall was wide open. Moonlight spilled through the window, lighting up two figures tangled on the bed.

Serafina's voice carried in the quiet. "That bracelet you gave Arianna… worth millions, right? I begged you for one, and you ignored me. She doesn't even ask, and you hand her the best gift in the world."

Marcello's shadow shifted. He pushed her legs from his waist, sat up, and lit a cigarette. His face was calm, almost bored. "I told you already… We were going to separate soon. I love my wife, but for now, we keep it a secret. If she finds out, it's over."

Serafina climbed onto him, naked. "I know, but I love you too. I can't help being jealous."

Marcello sighed, then reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bracelet the same style as mine, just a different color. He dangled it in front of her like a treat.

"Don't pout. I bought one for you too. Wear it in private. If Arianna sees it, we're done."

Serafina's face lit up. She kissed him, whispering thanks, still marked with his touch. Then she asked, soft and curious, "Why are you so scared of her leaving you, Marcello?"

His reply was quick, steady, without hesitation.

"I'm not really that scared because I have you. But Arianna was adored by my grandfather. After I inherit the old Don's shares in the family holdings… I can finally leave her and marry you."

And then he pushed her back down, claiming her again, the bed creaking under their weight. Her moans filled the night air.

I pressed my hand against the wall, choking on my sobs, staring at our wedding photo hanging nearby. His smiling face in that picture looked like a cruel joke.

"Thirteen days, Marcello," I whispered through tears.

"I'll be gone. Let's see how crazy you really get."

I woke up to shouting outside, the kind that shakes you out of sleep before you're ready. When I opened my door, I saw a woman in the garden of the neighboring villa, clutching at a man's shirt.

"Tino, I gave you ten years of my life. I even had your children," she sobbed. "When we got married, you swore you'd love me forever. And now, just a few years later, you're sneaking around with another woman?"

It was barely sunrise, but plenty of people were already out along the lakefront walk, stretching, enjoying the morning air beneath the cypress trees. Now they all stopped, staring, whispers rising as the scene unfolded.

The man, Tino, someone everyone in the gated community knew, went pale when he saw the crowd. He yanked the woman inside and snapped at her.

"What's wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you? No man stays loyal."

His words cut like glass. I stood frozen, the echo of them clawing at me. Then a warm hand slid over my ear from behind, shielding me.

"Don't listen to that nonsense, Arianna," Marcello murmured.

I didn't turn to him. "Tell me, Marcello… do all men cheat in the end?"

He stilled for a moment, then gently turned me around to face him. His dark eyes locked on mine. "I can't speak for the rest of the world. But me? I'll only ever love you."

I searched his face, his perfect, practiced expression. "You'll only love me for a lifetime? But a lifetime is so long."

He pulled me close. "A lifetime is long, yes. That's why I only want you to fill it."

I let out a laugh, but it tasted bitter on my tongue. "What if you betray me, Marcello?"

"If I ever betray you, may God strike me where I stand."

The vow was bold. Cruel, almost. Because I already knew the truth. His skin reeked of another woman's perfume after nights he spent away from me. He could touch them, claim them, and still whisper these words as if he meant them.

"Are you really not afraid that promise might come true?"

"Not at all. No one in this world knows how deep my love runs for you. If you don't believe me, I'll open my chest and show you my heart. If that still doesn't convince you, Arianna… I'll give you my life."

I thought to myself, If you're so willing to give me your life, why can't you control your desire?

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

"What are the two of you doing here?"

We both turned. Serafina stood there, draped in a red dress that clung to her curves, leaning casually against the frame.

I felt Marcello stiffen beside me. His brows pulled together. "It's not the weekend. Why are you dressed like that? Where are you going?"

It wasn't the voice of a brother-in-law. It was sharper, tinged with something that sounded far too much like jealousy.

Serafina noticed. She smiled, slow and deliberate. "Family business function tonight. I'll find myself a boyfriend there, so don't wait up."

Marcello's expression darkened, but Serafina only grinned wider before turning her eyes to me. "What about you, Arianna? Any plans for today?"

Marcello didn't let me answer. His fingers slid through mine. "Arianna and I are heading to the Castellano estate."

Serafina's eyes sparkled with something I couldn't name. She gave a polite little nod, said goodbye, and walked out, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume.

And Marcello… Marcello still hadn't let go of my hand.

Half an hour later, Marcello was behind the wheel, driving me back to the Castellano compound.

I hated going there. His parents had never warmed to me. Only the old Don, Don Enzo, ever had. To Carlo and Giovanna Castellano, I was a curse. I had given birth to a daughter when all they wanted was a son to carry the bloodline, and when she died, their hatred for me grew sharper, venomous. Every visit, their eyes cut me down like knives, as if I had stolen their heir with my own hands.

Marcello usually avoided bringing me, saying it wasn't worth the stress. But this time his mother, Giovanna, wasn't feeling well. As much as I dreaded it, we had to come.

When we stepped inside, Carlo and Giovanna were smiling, chatting warmly with each other in the sitting room. The second they saw me, their faces turned cold.

My chest tightened. I kept my head lowered, pretending I didn't notice, but Marcello did.

His voice turned sharp. "If you two keep treating Arianna like this, then don't expect us to come back again."

The room went silent until Carlo slammed his hand against the table, making me flinch. The silverware rattled. Two soldiers stationed near the dining room entrance shifted their weight but kept their eyes forward. "Watch your mouth. Are you really saying you'd turn your back on your family for this woman?"

Before I could step away, Marcello caught my hand, threading his fingers through mine, holding me still. "Father, I've said this many times. Arianna is the woman I love. The one person I can't bear to hurt. I won't even raise my voice at her, and yet you give her this coldness every time. Do you know what that does to me?" His grip on my hand tightened. "If this happens again, I won't just walk out of this house. I'll walk away from this family for good."

The Don of the Castellano Family, a man whose name made capos across the city lower their voices, but right then he sounded like a devoted husband willing to burn his whole world for me.

Pathetic. He thought I didn't know about his affair.

The room went quiet after Marcello threw his words out like a knife. He looked like the perfect protective husband, standing there like a shield in front of me. But I didn't feel safe. I just felt… tired.

Giovanna sighed and finally muttered, "Fine. Let's eat first."

At the table, the only noise was the clink of silver against porcelain. Giovanna kept making those little annoyed sounds, and my hand tightened around my fork. I knew it was coming.

Sure enough, she dropped her fork and said, "It's been nine months. Enough grieving. You lost a daughter, fine. But it's time to give us a grandson. You can't just end the Castellano bloodline."

Carlo nodded, cold eyes fixed on me. "That child died because you didn't care for her properly. A simple stomach ache, and she never came home from the hospital. Stop playing the victim, Arianna. Conceive again and do it right this time."

The words sliced straight through me, but before I could open my mouth, Marcello set his fork down. His voice was calm, but sharp enough to cut. "I already told you. Arianna is scared of pain. I won't let her suffer like that. If we never have kids, so be it."

Their faces dropped, heavy with disdain, and the air grew thick. They were about to start another round when I finally spoke. My voice was steady, even.

"You'll have a grandchild in half a month."

The room froze. Three pairs of eyes cut toward me. Somewhere deeper in the house, a clock ticked into the silence.

Marcello squeezed my hand, his face painted with that sweet, fake concern. "Sweetheart… You don't have to force yourself for me. I'll protect you."

I almost laughed. Protect me? He couldn't even stop himself from running into Serafina's arms every chance he got.

I smiled anyway. "You two want a grandson so badly. Let's make it happen for you."

They softened instantly, pleased with my answer. But Marcello looked uneasy, like he could smell something wrong but didn't know where it was coming from. His thumb pressed flat against the silver ring on his right hand, holding it still.

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

"Marcello, some guy wants a quickie, would it be okay?"

I counted in my head. One. Two. Three.

He stood right on cue. "Arianna, I have to handle something at the club. Stay and finish dinner. I'll come back for you later."

He didn't wait for me to answer. Just grabbed his jacket and left. I heard the front door close, then the crunch of gravel under tires, then nothing. The bodyguard who always trailed him followed without a word.

The second the door shut, Carlo and Giovanna dropped the fake politeness. Giovanna's fingers drifted to the string of black pearls at her throat, a single precise touch, as if confirming something was still in place.

"We'll give you less than a month. If you don't conceive again, don't ever dare show your face in this house. You come from nothing. Both your parents gone, no name, no wealth. Without Marcello, you're no one. Don't think we'll tolerate you forever."

Their words kept cutting, sharper each time, until it felt like the walls themselves were pressing in. The dining room of the Castellano estate, with its oil paintings of dead patriarchs and its heavy curtains that smelled of old money and older secrets, had never felt smaller.

And Marcello? He never came back.

Marcello finally showed up that evening, calm as ever, like nothing happened. We got into the car, the leather still warm from the sun.

I glanced out the window and asked lightly, "You done with work?"

He hesitated, just for a breath, then said softly, "Yeah." His fingers tapped against the wheel, steady, rhythmic. That was his little tell when he was in a good mood.

The silence stretched, and then he asked, "Did my parents give you trouble after I left?"

I was about to answer when my eyes caught something under the seat. A pair of torn silk stockings. Not mine.

So that's where he'd been. I knew about Serafina, but I hadn't expected he'd use this very car.

Seven years of marriage and I'd always been… careful. I wasn't wild, I wasn't daring. Sometimes I even asked him if he wanted me to change, if I was boring him.

Back then, he just held me close, kissing my hair, whispering, "Sweetheart, I only want you. Even if you wore rags, you'd still be the one I'd choose. Don't force yourself to be anything else. I love you the way you are."

But the man who said those words now reeked of 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 him.

He suddenly hit the brakes, pulled me into his arms. "I'm sorry, Arianna. I shouldn't have left you alone. I promise, it won't happen again."

His embrace felt like a cage.

I pressed my hands against his chest, pushing him off gently. "Just drive, Marcello. I'm tired."

Because I knew deep down. There was no future left for us.