After my husband Dante’s brother, a family Capo, was killed in a hit by a rival family, Dante took on the responsibility of caring for his sister-in-law, Bianca, and his nephew.

His reason was simple: “Family takes care of family.”

To outsiders, the three of them looked like a close-knit, happy family.

However, as my father lay on his deathbed, my husband was busy putting out a fire with a rival family—a crisis sparked by Bianca’s reckless actions.

I sank to my knees, weeping. "My father is dying. Please, go see him one last time, I'm begging you!"

But Dante's voice was cold and merciless. "Tell your father to hang on! I'm busy!"

I waited for two full hours, but in the end, my father passed without seeing the son-in-law he’d handpicked for me one last time.

Heartbroken and exhausted, I finally told him I wanted a divorce. "The three of you can go be your own happy family."

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1

After my father's funeral, Dante and I barely spoke. The silence between us was a suffocating weight.

Today was my father's memorial service. According to tradition, we were supposed to go to the church together. But Dante went straight to Bianca's place early in the morning and was gone for the entire day.

I had messaged him at noon, asking if he would join me at the church. Eight hours later, all I’d gotten back was silence.

This wasn't the first time Dante had abandoned me for Bianca.

It didn't matter if we were on a date, at a dinner party, in a family meeting, or even in bed. One call from Bianca, and he would drop me without a second thought.

He always said that his brother’s death left a widow and an orphan vulnerable, and that it was his duty to protect them.

I told myself that if Dante and Bianca ever crossed a line, I would leave.

Yet, every time I confronted him, he would firmly deny it, telling me I was overthinking things.

I tried to find a balance, a way for him to fulfill his promise to his brother to care for them without destroying our marriage.

But it was no use.

I thought I had grown numb. But what happened seven days ago shattered me completely.

My father, the respected Consigliere of the Falcone family, passed away a week ago after a long battle with illness.

In his final moments, he kept looking toward the door. I knew he was waiting, hoping to see Dante one last time.

I ran to the emergency exit at the end of the hallway to beg Dante to come, but he impatiently pushed me aside.

"My father is dying. Please, go see him one last time. I'm begging you!" I cried, kneeling on the cold marble floor.

But his voice was ice-cold. "Tell your father to hang on! I'm busy!"

What was he so busy with? Putting out another fire that Bianca had started, comforting her while she panicked over the consequences.

I wiped away my tears, splashed cold water on my face in the restroom, and pasted on a smile before returning to my father's bedside.

"Dante is handling an urgent family matter, he'll be done soon. He'll be here in a moment, Papa, just hold on a little longer."

He waited for another two hours before his eyes closed for the last time.

The man who had once sworn to respect my father as his own had missed his final moments. And now, he’d missed the memorial service too.

I sat on the cold hospital floor, feeling like a lifetime had passed. By the time Dante finally showed up, my tears had run dry.

He knelt in front of me, his face a mask of exhaustion and guilt.

"Elena, I'll go pay my respects tomorrow, I'll apologize. Just... please don't be angry."

"Let's get a divorce."

"What?!"

Dante frowned at me. "I know you're upset, but don't say things like that."

I gazed at his chiseled face, my own eyes hollow. I was too exhausted to even explain it wasn't a threat made in anger.

After a long silence, he finally spoke again.

"Can't we talk about this properly? Why is leaving always your first threat? It’s not like I’ve done anything unforgivable."

A cold, mocking smile touched my lips. "Think about it yourself. How many times have you stood me up for Bianca's messes? You even missed my father's final moments just to comfort her."

"So, this is about Bianca again? Do you have to be so petty?" Dante snapped, his tone sharp with annoyance. "Elena, for Christ's sake, have some compassion. She's a widow."

"Ha!" A sharp, cold laugh escaped my lips.

Bianca had received millions in compensation and assets from her husband's death. Dante also gave her a generous allowance every month, and his mother, Carmela, helped raise her son. What hardship, exactly, was she facing?

Perhaps my cold laugh was what finally set Dante off. In a fit of rage, he smashed his whiskey glass on the marble floor.

"Can't you be more generous? What happened to you? I fell in love with your kindness and wisdom, not this jealous woman who throws tantrums over nothing. I'm honoring a promise to my brother. What kind of sick thoughts are running through your head?"

"Dante, your actions would make any wife suspicious."

His body stiffened, and he glared at me. "Not everyone has a mind as twisted as yours!"

I had nothing more to say. I turned and went back to the bedroom, pulling out the suitcase I had already packed.

He blocked the doorway, a flicker of panic finally crossing his eyes.

"Elena, I was wrong. Please, don't go…"

"I know I messed up. I'll change, I swear. From now on, whatever you say goes... okay? Please, Elena."

This was the first time Dante had ever seemed truly desperate. He wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

His voice was choked with sobs, trembling slightly.

"I promised your father I would take good care of you. Give me one more chance, I swear I'll make him proud. I know I haven't treated you right these past few years. I'll make it up to you."

The word “wronged” was a crack in my armor. A sob tore from my throat, and then another.

So, he did know how much I had suffered? Then why did he always accuse me of being unreasonable?

My body trembled as I pounded my fists against his solid chest.

"This is your last chance. If you do this again, I am really leaving you."

However, the very next morning, Bianca's call came, her voice tearful on the other end.

"Dante, Leo won't listen to me. Please, can you talk to him?"

I held my breath, staring at Dante, and only let out a sigh of relief when he refused Bianca's request.

He looked at me smugly, as if waiting for praise. I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing both his cheeks. "Thank you," I murmured. "That's all I ask."

"Of course. Whatever my wife says, goes."

However, it wasn't long before Bianca called again, sobbing on the phone. Her crying grated on my nerves.

Just as I was about to tell him to hang up, Dante looked at me with a troubled expression.

"Elena, I'll just go for a little while. I'll be back soon."

Of course, he would.

A sharp pain pierced my chest, making my eyes burn.

"Do you remember what you said last night?"

"I do. I'll be back soon. I'll talk some sense into Leo so this doesn't happen again, alright?"

He had said things like this many times before.

Not once had he kept his word. All he had done was cheapen my forgiveness.

"Dante, I'm pregnant." I pulled his hand to my stomach.

"Really?" His voice was laced with suspicion.

I nodded, but he just stared at me sternly, then said in a heartbreakingly disappointed tone, "Elena, if you don't want me to go, just say so. Don't lie to me like that."

Suddenly, the whole situation struck me as utterly absurd.

I walked to the door and flung it open.

"Then get out."

He looked at me with those disappointed, pleading eyes, as if begging me not to be unreasonable.

Clinging to a final shred of hope, I said it again, "I really am pregnant. We can go to the hospital right now and check. But if you walk out that door today, don't expect me to give you any more chances."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, said nothing.

Instead, he posted two of his men downstairs to watch me.

I went straight into the study, opened my laptop, and started looking for a divorce lawyer.

This time, Dante came home sooner than usual.

However, to my shock, I heard voices outside.

It was Bianca and Leo.

Dante had brought his sister-in-law and nephew home.

"Elena, come out. I've asked Bianca and Leo to stay with us for a while, to keep you company. It's also to protect them from harassment by the rival family."

His self-righteous tone, as if he were some paragon of justice, made me sick.

I remained silent, refusing to come out. He knocked a few times before finally using a spare key to open the study door.

Bianca's cloying voice drifted from the hallway. "Elena, Leo has been such a handful lately. I thought if I stayed for a bit, Dante could help me discipline him. Of course, if you'd rather I didn't, I can just leave Leo here and go..."

"Please don't be angry. I really have no other choice. I hope you don't mind the trouble."

Her voice dissolved into a quiet sob. Dante wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning down to comfort her in his gentle voice.

He frowned, wiping away her tears with his fingertips, his other hand possessively cradling the back of her head.

Bianca tilted her face up to look at him. The distance between them closed to nothing; their eyes met, lingering on each other.

If I hadn't been there, they would have kissed.

"Get out! Both of you! Stop your little performance and get out of my house!"

Infuriated, I grabbed the papers on my desk and threw them at the door. By a stroke of bad luck, a tightly rolled document hit Bianca on the forehead.

When Dante saw the mark that instantly reddened on her skin, he lost control.

He strode over, dragged me out from behind the desk, and shoved me in front of Bianca.

"Elena, apologize to her!"

I froze for a moment, staring blankly into his furious eyes.

Why was he so angry? He was the one who broke his promise.

Seeing that I wasn't answering, Dante slammed me against the wall.

His voice was ice-cold, repeatedly telling me to apologize.

Bianca clutched her forehead. Her eyes were red, and she forced a gentle smile for Dante.

"It's alright, Dante, it doesn't hurt that much. It's our fault. We were too presumptuous, moving in without talking to Elena first. I just didn't expect…"

She trailed off as tears streamed down her face. She looked at Dante, forcing a smile and shaking her head.

Dante said nothing. He glanced at me, then expertly checked Bianca's injury.

After calming her down, he turned to me and said in a lecturing tone, "I should have discussed this with you first, that's my fault."

"But we're all part of the Falcone family. Since they're already here, what's the harm in letting them stay? Elena, do you have to make such a scene?"

"Bianca was just worried about you, grieving for your father, and wanted to keep you company. She meant well."

"I don't need it! Who knows what her real intentions are!"

"Look at you, acting like a jealous harpy, seeing conspiracies everywhere! Elena, I am saying this for the last time. Apologize!"

I ignored him, turning to walk towards the bedroom to start packing my things. He stood by and watched, his patience wearing thinner with every passing second.

Then he strode over furiously, kicked my suitcase aside, and, under my glare, pulled out a velvet box, threatening, "Think carefully. If you walk out that door, you can forget about getting this wristwatch of your father's!"

I gasped. I couldn't believe he would use that to threaten me. He knew better than anyone what this custom-made wristwatch meant to me.

My father had been the family's Consigliere, and this watch was a gift from the old Don, a symbol of honor and loyalty. I had grown up watching my father cherish and polish it. That watch held so many of our memories. Yet, shortly after he passed away, it had gone missing.

My hands trembled as I stared at Dante. "You found it?"

"Yes, so you'll listen to me. Stop talking about divorce, and I'll give it to you."

In the end, for the sake of that watch, I swallowed my pride and apologized to Bianca. I never mentioned leaving again.