Chapter 2

It wasn't long before I got a call from Don Carlo—calling me out for bullying Valentina.

I was so furious I laughed, and went straight to his office.

"Don Carlo, she came to me. And I'd love to know how she knew the location of my warehouse."

"Also—since you've got the time to come over and lay into me, why not just sign the divorce papers and go run off to your little girlfriend?"

He was quiet.

Several seconds passed before he spoke.

"Isabella, you're not thinking straight right now. I'll come by tonight and we'll talk."

He turned and left.

And that night, he did.

The warehouse door swung open, and he stood in the doorway.

I was seated at my desk, going over the family ledgers. I didn't even look up, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What? Here to fight for your little girl's honor?"

He didn't answer.

Finally, he let out a sigh—helpless. "You are my wife, Isabella."

I ignored him.

He went on. "I'm heading to Sicily this week for the elders' meeting. I'll be gone a week. When I get back, we'll sort this out."

My hand paused on the ledger. He continued.

"Since you don't like Valentina, I'll minimize contact with her from now on. I'm handing off all her missions to other capos. I won't be directly involved anymore."

I kept flipping pages, saying nothing.

He lingered at the door for a long time, then finally left.

The next morning, a family messenger brought word that he'd set sail.

For the next seven days, he sent me updates like clockwork.

Sometimes it was about what was happening in his meetings.

Sometimes it was a photo of his meal.

Even though I never replied once.

After seven days, he returned.

The day he came back, he brought me a gift.

A dagger, its hilt inlaid with a sapphire—exquisitely made.

He took it out of the box and placed it gently in my palm. It fit perfectly in my grip.

"Like it?" he asked.

I didn't answer, stubbornly turning my head away.

He didn't get upset. His tone was gentle.

"I messed up this time. As long as you don't divorce me, you can throw any tantrum you want, Isabella."

"As for moving back—stay here as long as you like. I'll come see you every day."

With that, he left.

That night, lying in bed, I studied the dagger in my hand.

I decided to give him one more chance.

Tomorrow was his birthday. I'd surprise him.

The next afternoon, carrying the tiramisu I'd slaved over all morning, I returned to our apartment.

I pushed open the door—and saw Valentina sitting at the dining table, urging Don Carlo to make a wish.

Candlelight flickered across his face.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he saw me.

I threw down the tiramisu and turned to walk out.

"Isabella—"

He caught up, grabbing my hand.

"Isabella, let me explain. I didn't expect you to come back. Valentina just came by to wish me a happy birthday."

"Didn't expect me back? If I hadn't shown up, what else would you two be doing behind my back?"

He started to explain.

Then, from inside, the sound of a glass shattering on the floor.

Followed by Valentina's startled cry.

Don Carlo instinctively turned to check—then remembered me, and turned back.

"Isabella, wait here. I'll be right back."

I said nothing. I watched his back disappear, turned, and walked away.