Three years ago, on the day I married Luca Moretti, he personally handed me a marriage contract with a fixed term of three years.

His tone was casual, indifferent, as if he were discussing an ordinary business deal.

"This marriage exists solely to serve the alliance of interests between the Morettis and the Vitales. Sign this agreement. After three years, the marriage will automatically dissolve. When that time comes, you can go and pursue your true love."

I barely hesitated before signing. Ten years earlier, at an inter-family business gala, when I was ten and Luca was sixteen, I had already fallen hopelessly in love with him.

What looked like a strategic alliance was, in truth, the outcome of my decade-long unrequited love.

During the three years of our marriage, Luca was attentive and gentle toward me.

Over time, I began to believe I was loved. I sank into that illusion, unable to pull myself out, forgetting entirely about the agreement.

That illusion was shattered completely on the night of our third wedding anniversary.

That evening, Luca arrived with Elena, who had just returned to New York, and attended what was supposed to be our third anniversary celebration together. She stood beside him with ease and composure, smoothly engaging with business partners. People praised her, saying she looked more like the Donna of the Moretti family.

In that moment, even though Luca never mentioned the agreement again, I understood clearly that it was time for me to step aside.

After breaking free from his control, crossing an ocean to rebuild myself, and becoming a brilliant leader in my industry, I would no longer wait for his love.

After returning home from the party, I booked a flight to France.

Once the call ended, I opened the combination safe and took out the divorce agreement inside. It had been stored there for too long. The text had faded, the ink blurred with age.

I sent it to my lawyer, Evan Rothwell, who replied that it would need to be re-signed. Otherwise, it would not hold legal effect. Therefore, I printed a fresh copy.

Then I sat on the couch and waited for Luca Moretti to come home. Just like always, he brought me a bouquet of red roses, my favorite.

"Why are you still awake?" he asked. "Didn’t you say you caught a cold? Did you take your medicine?"

He reached out and touched my forehead, his hand warm and familiar. "You’re fine. No fever. Go get some rest."

I rubbed my sore nose, forcing the tears back before they could fall. "Can you sign this for me?"

I handed him the agreement.

"What's this?" he asked casually. "An investment contract? Property purchase?"

"A div… investment agreement."

The word changed at the last second. I did not know why. I simply did not want him to know.

Three years ago, he had personally handed me a divorce agreement. This was nothing more than asking him to complete what he had started.

While still on a call, he signed without looking, moving his pen swiftly across the page. Then he walked into the study.

I mailed the signed agreement to Evan. He told me the divorce certificate would be processed in three days.

I looked at the news alert on my phone. It was photos of Luca and Elena standing side by side.

"Top Business Partners Reunite After Three Years: New Investments Focus on Cutting-Edge Technology."

They looked perfectly matched in the photo.

Only then did I finally understand why he had set the divorce agreement to take effect after three years. Maybe it had always been a promise between him and her.

He had even said that after three years, I could pursue my true love. It almost sounded as if he were the one begging in this relationship.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and turned off my phone.

Maybe Luca and I were never meant to be.

At dinner, Luca suddenly spoke, "My birthday celebration is in three days. I’ve already arranged our outfits. You’ll attend with me."

My hand paused slightly on the knife and fork. Then I nodded. "Okay."

He said nothing more and stood up to leave.

I lowered my head and continued cutting my steak. It tasted bland.

Just then, the phone he had left on the table lit up. It was a message from Elena.

"Thanks for taking me home. Dinner tomorrow. No excuses."

As I stared at the words, my emotions were tangled.

Ten years ago, I was kidnapped by an enemy family. It was sixteen-year-old Luca who saved me. At the time, I did not even know his name.

A month later, when I saw him again at a business gala, I recognized him instantly. That was when I fell in love. The marriage alliance had been an opportunity I begged my father for.

During the three years of our marriage, Luca treated me well. On my birthday, he would arrange an entire fireworks display, reserving the venue a month in advance. He sent small gifts to my friends as well.

When showering them with gifts, he would always say, "Please take good care of my wife."

They all envied me for having such a perfect husband.

Only now did I realize that perhaps it was not love. Perhaps it was simply responsibility.

"Here. Drink some warm water." Luca walked over with a glass and placed it in front of me, then sat down beside me. "You said this morning you were craving truffle steak. I had the kitchen prepare it specially."

I forced a smile. "Thank you."

He rubbed my head gently, his eyes full of affection.

Before, I would have fallen into it without hesitation. Now, there was only bitterness in my chest.

He did not notice the emptiness in my eyes and continued talking. "Elena likes steak, too. She says the ones in New York can’t compare to those from her family’s farm."

The fork slipped from my fingers and clattered against the plate. The last trace of hope was shattered completely. So he remembered her preferences so clearly.

I had believed I was the only one who mattered to him.

I took a deep breath and swallowed the tears back down.

[Clara’s POV]

I forced down the bitterness in my chest and squeezed out a smile, trying to ease the awkwardness.

"By the way, are you free tomorrow? I booked a private club on the Upper East Side three months ago. I heard their signature dishes at the Blackwell Club are amazing. I’ve always wanted to try it with you."

Luca was holding his phone. He was just about to nod when an apologetic smile crossed his face. "Sorry, Clara. I have to deal with a territory dispute tomorrow. I probably won’t have time."

As he spoke, he quickly transferred a sum of money to me. "Go with Zoe instead. Buy whatever you want. Don’t save money for me."

I stared at the transfer notification on my screen, forcing down my disappointment, and replied softly, "Okay."

The next morning, when I woke up groggily, the space beside me was already empty.

I reached out and touched it. It was cold. He had clearly been gone for a long time.

On ordinary days, we always had breakfast together. We talked, or read the news, side by side.

Today, that routine was broken. I sat alone at the dining table, staring at the empty seat across from me. My heart felt just as hollow.

After breakfast, I spent the entire day packing up my personal belongings.

The villa was filled with traces of Luca and me.

The lavender I had planted myself. The scented oils I made by hand, just so he could sleep better at night.

The portrait hanging on the wall which a renowned Italian painter had been specially commissioned to create for me.

Now, all those symbols of love felt like mockery.

In the afternoon, I arranged to meet my best friend, Zoe Laurent, at our usual spot, planning to say a proper goodbye.

Instead, I saw Luca and Elena standing at the entrance of the restaurant.

Elena was draped in his coat. They were talking about something, laughing easily.

In Elena’s hand was a handbag—the only one of its kind in the world.

My mind went blank. It felt like something had stabbed straight through my heart.

So they had come to this restaurant too. So he had bought that bag for her.

I hesitated, wondering if I should change locations to avoid the awkwardness.

Fortunately, they left.

The moment Zoe saw me, she pulled me into a tight hug, then gently cupped my face, her eyes full of concern.

"You look exhausted. Luca runs a mafia family, yet he can’t even take care of his own Donna?"

I smiled and shook my head without answering.

Zoe pulled me to sit down and ordered our favorite desserts. "It’s almost your birthday again. What did Luca prepare for you this year?

"Last year, thanks to you, we celebrated in Hokkaido. I enjoyed the free vacation. Where to this year? Hawaii? Or—"

She suddenly stopped. "Clara… why are you crying? Did Luca treat you badly?"

"It’s nothing," I said. "Luca and I are divorced. I’m leaving soon."

Zoe froze, staring at me in disbelief. "Why? Haven’t things always been good between you two? He even asked me a few days ago where you might want to go. He was planning a surprise birthday party for you."

Hearing that, I cried even harder.

Yes. I had believed he loved me, too.

However, that three-year agreement and the way he treated Elena made me realize I was nothing more than a shadow.

I leaned against her shoulder, my tears spilling uncontrollably.

Zoe didn’t ask any more questions. She just patted my back gently, comforting me.

After the meal, when I returned home, I looked at the empty villa, took a deep breath, and began preparing for Luca’s birthday celebration. This would be the last time I ever did this for him.

[Luca’s POV]

Clara seemed to be in a bad mood today.

I personally pan-fried her a steak, but she still looked uninterested.

I remembered something her friend Zoe once said, that when Clara was unhappy during school, she liked to shop. So I transferred money to her.

Still, she didn’t look any happier.

Was it because I had turned down her invitation for the next day?

I told her I could go with her the day after instead, but she said it was fine. She had already made plans with Zoe.

The next morning, I got up early. I hid the ruby necklace she had admired a month ago under her pillow.

When she woke up and saw it, she would definitely be thrilled. After all, she liked red.

Ten years ago, when enemies had kidnapped her, she was wearing a red cloak. Despite her little face being dirt-streaked, she was still so adorable.

God knows how happy I was when I found out the marriage arrangement was with her.

Unfortunately, she had kept her face tense, as if she was dissatisfied with the engagement.

I was afraid she would refuse it. So I immediately prepared a divorce agreement set three years later.

I told her that both families had decided on the marriage. Even if she wasn’t satisfied, she had to accept it for now. After three years, we would separate. That was why I handed it to her in advance.

Nevertheless, I played a small trick. I deliberately made the safe damp, blurring the text on the agreement.

Three years later, she would still be mine.

Elena said she wanted to treat me to dinner. I deliberately chose the same restaurant Clara had mentioned yesterday, planning to pack her favorite dishes to bring home afterward.

I also picked up the bag I had asked Elena to help buy three months ago. I would give it to Clara once I got home. That should cheer her up, right?

Even if she still wasn’t happy, it didn’t matter.

I had secretly prepared a gown for her. It was a dreamlike crystal dress by the world-renowned designer Master Moni.

She had been longing for this dress for all year. Once she put it on, she would definitely be delighted.

After all, what girl doesn’t love beautiful things?

[Clara’s POV]

Luca had always been meticulous by nature. He demanded perfection in every detail of a banquet, especially security and food.

I called Sebastiano Ricci, the butler, over and went through the arrangements for tomorrow’s birthday celebration point by point.

"The cake can’t have nuts. Luca doesn’t like them. Use black roses for the decorations. He doesn’t like anything too ostentatious. And absolutely no cinnamon in the drinks. He’s allergic."

Sebastiano nodded as he wrote everything down. At the end, he hesitated, then asked carefully, "Madam, why are you being so thorough this time? It feels like you’re handing everything over to me for good."

I lowered my gaze.

'Yes. From now on, it will all be yours.'

Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Luca. He said he had to deal with some family matters tonight and would not be coming home. He told me not to wait up.

His assistant, Matteo Vieri, delivered the bag.

What did this mean? Had Elena refused it, so he passed it on to me instead? Was this charity?

I stared at the bag for a long time, then curved my lips into a bitter smile.

Forget it. I was leaving anyway. What was the point of counting these things now?

Family matters? Or was he actually with Elena? It no longer mattered.

The next day, before the banquet began, my bespoke gown still had not arrived.

I asked Sebastiano, "When will the gown be delivered?"

Sebastiano looked confused. "Madam… the Don already took the gown."

"What?" I frowned.

As the words left my mouth, Luca pushed the door open and walked in. Elena followed behind him.

My eyes lit up instinctively. I thought he had personally brought my gown.

However, then I saw it. Elena was wearing the dress Luca had custom-made for me.

I had seen the design sketches before. Every detail had been refined to perfection. It had been prepared specifically for this birthday celebration.

Now, it was on her body.

The moment Elena saw me, she hurried over and grabbed my hand, her face full of guilt. "Clara, I’m so sorry. Champagne spilled on my dress by accident. Luca said I could borrow yours to wear. You don’t mind, right?"

I froze and looked at Luca, waiting for an explanation.

He smiled. "Let her wear yours. I’ll have someone prepare a new one for you."

Then he turned to Sebastiano. "Bring out the spare gown."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

A spare gown.

So this was it. In his heart, I was nothing more than a backup.

I took a deep breath, forced a smile, and said to Elena, "It’s fine. You can wear it."

Then I nodded at Luca. "I understand."

Luca’s phone rang suddenly. He answered it, his brows knitting slightly, as if something urgent had come up.

Seeing this, Elena immediately volunteered. "Luca, go take care of it. I’ll help Clara with her hair. I’ll make sure she steals the spotlight tonight."

Luca glanced at her, then at me, clearly hesitant.

However, whatever was happening on the other end of the call seemed pressing. In the end, he nodded.

"Alright. Elena, I’ll leave it to you."

With that, he turned and left the room.

Only Elena and I remained. The atmosphere instantly turned awkward.

I intended to politely decline. After all, there was no closeness between her and me.

Before I could speak, Elena let out a cold laugh and threw the comb in her hand onto the table in front of me.

"Clara, stop pretending. A daughter from a fallen family like yours is just squatting in the Donna’s seat. You don’t deserve Luca."

I froze, not expecting her mockery to be so blunt.

She continued sharply, "The three-year agreement is already up, yet you’re still refusing to leave. You really have no shame."

Her words stabbed into my heart like knives.

I straightened and answered stubbornly, "The agreement expires tomorrow. Even if you’re with him now, you’re still the other woman. Don’t worry. I’m leaving right now."

She clearly had not expected me to agree so readily. A satisfied smile spread across her face as she turned and walked out, as if victory was already hers.

After she left, I placed the already effective divorce agreement on Luca’s desk.

Then I pulled my suitcase behind me and quietly left the villa.

'Goodbye, Luca.'