BIANCA

I pulled through the wrought-iron gates of the estate, and the first thing I noticed was my husband's car. It was parked at an odd angle in the drive, the windows fogged from the inside.

My heart dropped as I approached it. The sounds of grunting started growing louder.

Trembling, I reached for the door handle and pulled it open. There was my so-called husband, Vincenzo Ravello, Don of the Ravello Family, tangled up with his old mistress Gemma right in front of the house his own father had died in.

After five years of being disrespected and humiliated by his women, this was a new low, even for him.

Gemma's head was thrown back. She was panting, a satisfied smirk on her painted mouth. Vincenzo, on the other hand, looked as bored as a man reading the morning ledgers, as if I didn't even exist.

As they finally untangled themselves and stepped out of the car, Gemma's gaze landed on me. Her fingers drifted up and stroked something at her throat.

"Sorry, Bianca," she said, the sarcasm clear in her voice. "I've always wanted to try it in the car, and Vincenzo was sweet enough to cross it off my list. He's magnificent, as always. But you wouldn't know that, would you? He's never so much as touched you."

She tossed a crumpled tissue at my feet. "You should clean that up. We made quite a mess in there."

My cheeks burned with humiliation as I stared at the tissue on the paving stones.

Vincenzo's cold voice cut through the thick silence. "And while you're at it, come inside and put dinner on the table. I'm starving."

Dinner? After what I'd just seen? The audacity of it made my blood boil.

How dare he treat me like hired help after disrespecting me in the worst way a man could disrespect his wife?

Gemma giggled, and I wondered what the hell was funny.

"Yes, the useless wife can see to the chores while we enjoy ourselves," she said.

Five years of a marriage the Commission had arranged, and this was what it had been reduced to.

……

I wanted to scream, to throw the tissue back in their faces. Instead, I simply watched them walk into the house.

Vincenzo had been unfaithful for years, with a different woman every time the mood took him. By now, I was used to it.

But Gemma was different. He was actually in love with her. And that was something I could never have.

Being alone without a man who wanted me was better than being chained to one who didn't.

My heart broke every time he had said it aloud: You will never be my true wife, never the Donna of this Family.

In five years of marriage, he had said those words to me five whole times.

I should have accepted the first renouncement. But I held on, foolishly hoping he'd change his mind.

The elegant gown I still had on now felt like a ridiculous, overpriced costume.

Vincenzo and I were supposed to appear together that evening at the Family's charity gala, the kind of glittering front where hotel money and dirty money shook hands under the chandeliers. Of course, he had stood me up.

I felt so stupid, standing alone all night while every other wife arrived on her husband's arm.

I had been looking forward to it, hoping it might be a chance for us to find our footing again.

Of course, he had let me down once more, choosing Gemma instead.

I kicked the tissue across the stones and slammed the door shut behind me.

That was the final straw. I couldn't keep letting them walk all over me, couldn't keep being the joke whispered about at every sit-down. Enough was enough.

I walked straight into the kitchen. I wanted to make something absolutely delicious. I was a fine cook, even if Vincenzo had always taken that for granted.

I decided on my famous lasagna, which happened to be his favorite. The scent rising from the oven was heavenly, and I felt satisfied.

Carrying the plate through to the sitting room, I found Vincenzo and Gemma curled up together on the sofa, watching some mindless program.

"Dinner's ready," I announced in an even tone.

Gemma's head lifted at my words, and she flashed me a sickly smile. "Oh, Bianca. Finally. We're absolutely starving." She made no move to rise, only burrowed deeper into Vincenzo's arms.

Vincenzo glanced over, a hint of irritation in his eyes. "Well, don't just stand there. Serve it up, would you?"

"Actually, I'm afraid there isn't enough for the two of you. I only made it for myself."

I watched their expressions shift from confusion to outrage.

"What do you mean, there isn't enough?" Vincenzo said, his gray eyes narrowing. He cracked one knuckle of his right hand, slow, deliberate. "You'll get back in that kitchen and make us something now."

Gemma chimed in, her hand sliding up to that necklace at her throat again. "Isn't that all you're good for? Cooking and cleaning? Fix us something to eat. Right now."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not your personal chef. If the two of you are hungry, you're more than welcome to go into the kitchen and cook something yourselves."

Vincenzo's face twisted. In one swift motion, he knocked the plate from my hands.

The ceramic shattered against the floor, food scattering everywhere. He cracked another knuckle, then another.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he said, rising to his full height over me, his voice low the way a Don's voice gets when he has stopped pretending to be reasonable. "Since when did you get a spine?"

Gemma cackled from the couch. "Ooh, you should have dumped it on her head, tesoro. Maybe that would've knocked some sense into her."

I flinched at her words, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. But I refused to let them see my pain. Instead, I rose to my feet and met Vincenzo's furious gaze head-on.

"Listen to me, for once. I'm done being your doormat. This sham of a marriage is over."

I paused, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. My thumb found the bare band of skin on my ring finger where the Family heirloom should have sat, and pressed against it.

"I, Bianca Falcone, of the Falcone bloodline, hereby renounce this marriage pact, and I renounce you."

BIANCA

Vincenzo's eyes widened in shock. His jaw dropped as he struggled to comprehend what I had just said.

"What are you talking about?" he asked with a scoff. Maybe he thought I was joking.

My voice was sharp as I delivered the words I had been longing to say for years. "You heard me. I'm done. And I want the pact dissolved too."

He chuckled, but his eyes betrayed his anger. "You can't be serious," he sneered. "Where do you think you're going to go? You carry the Ravello name now. The Commission bound you to me. There's no walking out of that."

I shot him a cold smile. "We're only bound by paper and a handshake between old men. You never claimed me, never made me yours in any way that mattered. And even if we were bound by more than papers, I'd still want out. I deserve better than to be treated like one of the kitchen help."

His jaw tightened. I could see the muscles in his neck strain with restrained anger. His right hand flexed at his side, and one by one his knuckles cracked against his thumb. "You should be grateful I married you at all. Half the women in this territory would kill to stand where you're standing."

I heaved a deep sigh. "You've renounced me, what, five times now? And every time, you've made it painfully clear that you want nothing to do with me. This is why I'm dumping your ass."

He gave me a smoldering glare. Another knuckle cracked, slow and deliberate, in the too-quiet room. "You ungrateful little brat. You really think you can leave me after everything I've done for you?"

"You didn't do anything for me, Vincenzo," I said, my voice firm. "You didn't marry me for love, or even for lust. You married me for the name. For the blood in my veins that your Family needed."

I remembered the first time we met, how he had stepped in when the sons of a rival crew had cornered me, mocking the fallen Falcone name my father had left me with nothing but debts and enemies to inherit.

At that moment, I had been captivated by his strength, the ease with which he made grown men lower their eyes and back away. He had looked at me with a softness I had never seen before, and I had felt my heart flutter with admiration and something deeper.

Little did I know that that moment of kindness would be the only one I would ever experience from him.

As the old men of the Commission had explained to me, I was the last true daughter of the Falcone bloodline, a name that still commanded respect at every sit-down, still called in old debts a generation later. They said an alliance mattered to the stability of both houses. They chose me to be the future Donna of the Ravello Family. And beyond politics, everyone whispered that Vincenzo and I were meant to be joined.

At the time, I had already harbored feelings for him. The prospect of standing at his side, of building something that would outlast us both, made me foolish with hope.

I had thought the marriage would bring us closer together. Instead, it only seemed to drive us further apart. He resented me, reminding me every day that he felt trapped. I was just a living reminder of an obligation the Commission had forced on him.

Vincenzo believed I had whispered in the ears of the old men to force his hand. He said I was hungry for power. He thought I only wanted to be a Don's wife for the title and the standing it carried. But that couldn't be further from the truth.

I loved him, truly and deeply. But it was clear his heart belonged to Gemma alone.

Gemma had been his woman before he ever laid eyes on me, and her disappearance had left him hollow. A rival Family had taken her in some old feud, and he had searched for her for years and turned up nothing. But now she was back. And it was clear she had no intention of letting me stand in her way.

Vincenzo wanted her too, and the thought stung. Every lonely night, I had endured the ache alone. I couldn't even seek comfort in anyone else's arms, because he was my husband and I loved him.

But now I realized that love wasn't enough, and that I had been a fool.

"I'll have the papers ready to dissolve the pact in a few days," I said, turning to leave.

Vincenzo's voice stopped me. "You'll never survive without me, Bianca. Have you forgotten your own people practically sold you off to me? Your family doesn't give a damn about you."

I swallowed hard, because he was right. I couldn't make reckless decisions on emotion alone. If I dared set foot back among what was left of my father's people, they'd turn me away at the door. I would manage a few more days, until the papers were finalized. Then I would go across the water, far from him and everyone else. I didn't mind being cut loose from every Family at this point. Let them call me a woman with no protection. It was better than this.

Gemma, who had stepped out to use the restroom, sauntered back into the room just then. It was what she wore around her neck that caught my attention. A rare, priceless piece that had been passed down through the Family for generations.

The necklace was a stunning thing, diamonds and pearls that caught the light with every breath she took. I remembered my mother telling me about it, how it was meant to be worn only by the Don's wife. But Vincenzo had never given it to me. Instead, it seemed, he had saved it for Gemma.

"I found this in your room," Gemma said, her voice husky as she gazed up at Vincenzo. Her fingers slid up to the stones at her throat and stroked them slowly. "I hope you don't mind me wearing it."

His face grew soft, and he looked at her with so much adoration. "You look beautiful," he said, his voice low. "Just like a princess."

Her smile was radiant as she reached up to touch the necklace again. "So, I can keep it?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Vincenzo nodded, his smile matching hers. "Of course. You can have anything you want. You only have to think of it, and it's yours."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him in for a long, deliberate kiss. And there I was, watching them like a fool.

I turned to walk away, unable to bear the sight of them. But Vincenzo's voice stopped me.

"Bianca, wait," he called sharply. "I just remembered Gemma's bags are still in the trunk of the car. Go get them for her."

I turned back, my brows drawn together in confusion. "What are her bags doing in the trunk?"

Gemma's smile was smug as she twisted a strand of her burgundy hair around one finger. "I'm moving in with you two. Isn't that lovely?"

I forced a smile, my heart burning with pain inside. My thumb found the bare spot on my ring finger where a band should have sat, and I pressed it there. "Yeah," I said in a soft whisper. "That's... great."

BIANCA

I sighed as I woke up bright and early the next morning. I did so every morning, to lay out a proper breakfast for Vincenzo before the household stirred.

But as I turned to call out to him, I saw him already dressed in his wine-dark suit, his eyes fixed on his phone.

"I have business at the club today," he said, his voice distracted. "And a sit-down with the crew. I'll be back later."

I nodded silently.

His eyes flicked to me, his expression stern. "And Bianca?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure you don't make trouble with Gemma. Make her feel at home."

I felt a surge of resentment, but I bit my tongue. "Of course," I responded in a tight voice.

His eyes narrowed, as if daring me to disobey him. Then he turned and walked out the door, leaving me feeling frustrated and helpless.

Just then, Gemma walked into the kitchen, yawning and stretching. She was wearing Vincenzo's shirt, the one he had worn the night before.

I felt that pang of jealousy, knowing that they had slept in the same bed. Something I could only dream of.

She walked over to the coffee maker, pouring herself a cup. I tried to ignore her, focusing on wiping down the counters. But she seemed determined to taunt me.

"Sorry if we were a bit loud last night," she said with that annoying, cruel smile of hers. Her fingers drifted up to the heirloom at her throat, stroking the band of stones that had no business hanging on her. "Did you hear us? I hope we didn't keep you up."

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment, but I tried to keep my cool. Of course I had heard them. Her especially, screaming like a goddamned banshee.

"Good morning to you too, Gemma," I said, my voice neutral.

She snorted a laugh. "Oh, come on, Bianca. Don't be like that. I'm just trying to make conversation."

She walked over to the table and sat down in Vincenzo's chair. Her eyes raked over me in a way that made me self-conscious.

"So, are you still a frustrated little virgin? I mean, at twenty-five, and never been touched. How do you survive?"

I felt my anger rising, but I didn't want her gloating from getting under my skin.

"My life is none of your business," I half snapped.

She just laughed again, clearly enjoying my discomfort. Her hand slid back to the necklace, that possessive little stroke. "Oh, but it is, darling," she said. "After all, we're practically family now, aren't we?"

She stood and moved even closer. I could smell the faint trace of Vincenzo's cologne on her.

"I don't have time for this," I said, turning my back on her and walking away.

I stormed to my room, my heart beating fast with anger and frustration.

Opening my wardrobe, I began pulling out my clothes, shoving them into a suitcase.

I left a few things on the hangers, counting my days until I walked out of that suffocating estate for good.

After packing, I grabbed my phone and dialed the lawyer's number. "Hello. I was wondering when the papers dissolving the marriage pact would be ready," I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"They'll be ready in a few days," the lawyer replied. "You'll be finally free, Donna Bianca."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I hung up the phone. My thumb found the bare spot on my ring finger, the smooth place where the Family band used to sit, and I turned it, over and over. I was finally going to be free of all this. I had already decided. Nothing was going to unmake it.

Later that afternoon, I went into the kitchen to fix something to eat. I was rummaging through the fridge when Gemma strolled in, a smug look on her face.

"I'm going to bake a chocolate cake for Vincenzo," she announced, heading for the mixing bowls.

I raised an eyebrow. I clearly didn't want her in my kitchen. "You don't need to do that."

She shot me a smirk. "Oh, I want to. Besides, we're housemates now. We share the kitchen."

I gritted my teeth, trying not to lose my temper. "Fine. But be careful."

She rolled her eyes so far back they nearly disappeared. "Don't tell me what to do. I can handle it."

But she couldn't. I turned back to the refrigerator, but a sudden crackling sound caught my attention. Whirling around, I gasped. Flames were licking at the edge of the counter, smoke rushing into the air.

"Gemma! What did you do?"

Her eyes went wide, and she stumbled backward, bumping into the kitchen island. "I—I don't know! The oven must have malfunctioned or something."

The fire was spreading rapidly, the heat scorching my skin.

"We have to put this out!" I yelled, already grabbing for the extinguisher. "Don't just stand there, help me!"

But before I could blink, she was darting out of the kitchen, leaving me to face it alone. "Gemma, wait!" I screamed, my words lost in the roar of the flames.

Cursing under my breath, I turned my attention back to the fire, desperately trying to aim the extinguisher. The smoke stung my eyes, making them water. The heat was becoming unbearable. Still, I pushed on, refusing to give up.

But then I got burned. I cried out, dropping the extinguisher with a clatter. Blisters were already forming on my palms. My skin was going red.

I couldn't breathe, the smoke choking me, filling my lungs. My vision started to blur. The world was spinning around me like crazy.

Just as I fell to the floor, a deep voice cut through the roar. I snapped my eyes open.

Vincenzo burst into the kitchen, his face twisted in a worried frown. But it wasn't me he rushed to. It was Gemma, who stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with fear.

He swept her into his arms, cradling her like a child. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern. She clung to him, coughing again and again.

I watched, stunned, as Vincenzo carried her out of the kitchen, leaving me to face the fire. I was still trying to process what had just happened.

Tears trickling down my face, I began to crawl across the floor. My lungs were burning and my skin blistering. In that moment, it was painfully clear that I was on my own.