Chapter 1

My mafia-boss husband has no idea the property papers I hand him are our divorce papers.

Dominic Kane does not even read them.

He signs his name, clean and fast, like he is approving another hit, another deal, another body dumped in the river.

Then he pulls Mia Blake onto his lap.

“Another property?” he asks, his voice flat.

He looks at me like I am a bill he is sick of paying.

“Claire Hart, is that all you know how to do? Spend my money when you’re pissed?”

He tosses the pen on the table.

“I just had someone renew the payments for your foster mother’s private clinic. So drop the wounded-wife act.”

Mia leans against his shoulder. Her red nails slide over his black shirt.

“Dom, baby,” she says, soft and sweet as poison, “why is Mrs. Kane so quiet today? What if she really doesn’t care about you anymore?”

Dominic laughs.

“She wouldn’t dare.”

His hand rests on Mia’s waist.

“Her mother’s life still depends on me.”

My fingers go cold around the folder.

He does not know.

Last night, while he is with Mia, while he ignores every call from the hospital, my mother misses her last chance.

Nora Hart dies before dawn.

The woman who raised me dies alone in a white hospital room because the doctor cannot reach Dominic Kane.

And Dominic still thinks he owns the air I breathe.

Everyone says I will never give up being Mrs. Kane.

Not when I need his money.

Not when I need his name.

Not when I grew up with nothing and married into the most feared mafia family on the East Coast.

Dominic believes it too.

So when Mia looks around the mansion and says she wants to stay here, he does not even blink.

“This place suits Mia,” he says. “Move out for now. Come back in three days.”

His tone is not a question.

It is an order.

Like always.

“As long as you don’t make a scene, I won’t cut off the clinic money.”

I put the signed divorce papers back into the folder.

Then I nod.

“Okay.”

Dominic’s eyes narrow for one second.

He thinks I have finally learned to bow my head.

But this time, I am not swallowing it.

I just have no reason left to stay.

I go upstairs to pack.

The bedroom still smells like his cologne and the flowers Mia sent herself yesterday.

My suitcase is barely open when Dominic’s voice stops me at the door.

“The bracelet on your wrist,” he says. “Take it off. Mia likes it.”

I freeze.

The silver bracelet is old. Plain. A little scratched.

It is the last thing Nora left me.

Mia stands beside him with that fake soft look.

“Forget it, Dom. Mrs. Kane doesn’t seem willing.”

Dominic’s face stays cold.

“How much?” he asks me. “I’ll buy it.”

My throat tightens.

He says it like everything in me has a price tag.

“After all,” he adds, “you stayed with me for money, didn’t you?”

If this is before, I would hand it over.

I would smile, even if my heart was bleeding.

Because I would be scared.

Scared he would get angry.

Scared he would stop paying for Mom’s treatments.

But now I lift my head and look right at him.

“No.”

The room goes still.

Dominic’s face darkens.

“What did you say?”

“I said no.”

For one second, I see shock in his eyes.

Then he steps forward.

His hand clamps around my wrist.

I try to pull back, but he is stronger. He always is.

“Dominic, let go.”

He does not.

He drags the bracelet down over my hand.

The silver catches on my wrist bone. Pain shoots up my arm.

My skin burns red.

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.

With one hard pull, he rips it off.

Then he drops it into Mia’s palm.

Mia turns it between her fingers.

For a few seconds, she looks pleased.

Then her mouth twists.

“Never mind,” she says. “I don’t want it.”

And she throws it.

The bracelet hits the floor.

A sharp crack splits the room.

It breaks in two.

Something in my head goes blank.

I drop to my knees and reach for the pieces.

Before I can touch them, Mia gasps.

“Ah! It hurts!”

Her fingertip is barely red.

Barely.

But Dominic is already holding her hand like she has been shot.

“Call the private doctor,” he snaps.

The housekeeper runs out.

I stare at my own palm.

A broken edge of silver has cut me open.

Blood gathers in my hand and drips onto the floor.

No one looks.

No one asks if I am hurt.

And because I am a stupid fucking fool, I remember the past.

Once, I cut my finger while slicing fruit.

It was a tiny cut.

Dominic stopped a meeting for it.

He cleaned it himself. Wrapped a Band-Aid around my finger. Kissed it like I was something precious.

Now my blood is on the floor.

He does not even glance down.

The doctor arrives fast.

Dominic sits on the couch and watches him treat the tiny mark on Mia’s finger.

Mia sniffles the whole time.

After the bandage is on, she looks toward the mansion’s security panel by the front door.

“Dom, baby, I’m staying for three days. I can’t ask the staff to open the door for me every time, can I?”

Dominic does not hesitate.

He calls the security chief.

Mia presses her finger onto the scanner.

The machine beeps.

Her access is approved.

Then Dominic opens the drawer in the entry table and takes out a key.

He places it in Mia’s hand.

My chest turns hollow.

That key was once mine.

Dominic gave it to me on our wedding night.

He said, “With this, you are the woman of this house.”

Now he gives it to Mia.

Mia takes a photo right away and posts it to Instagram.

“First day living in Mr. Kane’s house. I got the key and his favorite kind of love.”

Comments pop up fast.

“Isn’t that Mrs. Kane treatment?”

“Looks like someone is the real lady of the house.”

“Mia, girl, you won.”

Mia smiles like she has just taken my crown off my head.

I look at the post and remember the last time.

She walked into my closet and wore my custom designer gown without asking.

She even went live while trying on my dresses.

She laughed with her friends and asked which one made her look most like the Kane wife.

I lost my temper that day.

Dominic only said, “She’s young. She likes to play. Do you really have to be that petty?”

Later, Mia cried.

So he gave her the gown.

Then he told me he would buy me ten more.

After that, she got worse.

Now she is walking around in my slippers.

She is wrapped in my silk robe.

The master bed has pink sheets because she likes pink.

My skincare is swept into a cardboard box.

Our wedding photo lies face down in the corner.

I stop looking.

I close my suitcase and walk out.

At the foyer, Dominic calls after me.

“One more thing. Tomorrow is the Kane Holdings year-end gala. Don’t forget.”

He pauses.

Then he adds, “And don’t get too worked up over these three days. The title of Mrs. Kane is still yours in the end.”

I look at him.

His face is calm. Almost generous.

Like he has loaned my life to another woman and expects me to thank him when he takes it back.

I nod.

“Okay.”

To him, Mrs. Kane is just a title.

Something he can hand out for three days.

Something he can take back when he is bored.

But I do not want it anymore.

Tomorrow, I am not going to Kane Holdings just for the gala.

I am going to hand in my resignation too.