Chapter 3

I sank into the couch, completely hollowed out.

Eight years.

From sneaking kisses behind iron gates

to standing beside him as the Don’s wife under crystal chandeliers.

Every promise he ever made me,

every sacrifice I thought was love,

now burned like hot brands pressed again and again into my chest.

He said he loved me—

yet he held another woman while sleeping in my house.

He said he was in meetings—

yet crossed the city at midnight to soothe someone else’s tears.

He once told me I was his constant.

That I was the one thing in his life that never changed.

And yet, behind my back,

he had already chosen a future that didn’t include me.

My stomach twisted violently.

I barely made it to the sink before I started vomiting,

my body rejecting what my heart still hadn’t fully accepted.

I leaned against the cold marble wall, gasping, shaking.

It wasn’t Why wasn’t I good enough?

It was worse.

When did I start shrinking myself to fit the space he allowed me?

When did I start mistaking silence for peace?

I cried until there was no sound left in me.

And then—

I laughed.

I stood up, splashed cold water on my face,

and stared at my reflection.

Pain didn’t buy loyalty.

Tears didn’t inspire guilt.

If he wanted a clean ending, a respectable transition— Fine.

I’d give him that dignity.

Alexander walked in just then.

The moment he saw me, his expression shifted.

“Emma,” he said quickly, crossing the room. “What’s wrong? You’re pale.”

He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.

I looked up at him with red, swollen eyes.

“Alex,” I whispered, “I don’t think I can hold on much longer.”

He froze—then concern slid perfectly into place.

“Where does it hurt? We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

He reached for his coat.

“No.”

I caught his wrist. “It’s just… my chest. It feels tight.”

He knelt in front of me, gripping my hands.

“It’s my fault,” he said softly.

“I’ve been buried in family business. I neglected you.”

“You’re what matters. Not deals. Not power.”

“Let me make it up to you. I’ll clear my schedule—we’ll go to Lake Como. Just us. You’ve always loved it there.”

He sounded sincere.

As if exhaustion—not betrayal—was the problem.

I smiled.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“Whatever you think is best.”

The family gathering took place the following week.

Not a dinner.

A Summit.

The Cole family had sealed off an entire private estate—

armed guards at every gate, black cars lining the drive like silent sentinels.

Inside, men who controlled ports, weapons routes, and political favors

spoke in low voices over crystal glasses.

Alexander stood at the center of it all.

Black tailored suit. Calm smile. Absolute authority.

The Don.

Beside him stood his mother, draped in diamonds, pride written across every line of her posture.

At the head of the hall sat his grandfather—

not the ruler, but the memory of rule.

An Elder.

A reminder that power was inherited, not chosen.

“Emma,” the old man called.

“Come here.”

I walked over.

He patted the seat beside him.

“Sit.”

Then, in a voice gentle enough to sound reasonable, sharp enough to leave no room for refusal— “This family needs an heir.”

“Alexander carries too much weight to worry about lineage alone.”

“You are his wife. You must understand your duty.”

“Stability. Continuity. Blood.”

I lowered my gaze.

Before he could continue, Alexander approached.

“Grandfather,” he said smoothly, “Emma hasn’t been well. I’ve asked her to rest.”

He rested a hand on the back of my chair— protective. Possessive. Perfect.

The Elder waved him off with a grunt.

Alexander leaned down, whispering near my ear.

“Ignore him. I like you just the way you are.”

I smiled faintly— and saw her.

Across the room.

Lila Grant.

She wore a pale champagne dress, delicate straps, a silk shawl draped over her shoulders.

Soft curls. Barely-there makeup.

One hand rested unconsciously on her lower abdomen.

She stood beside one of Alexander’s cousins, posed as a harmless plus-one.

Alexander’s eyes flicked to her.

Just for a second.

But the satisfaction there— the certainty— I saw it clearly.

Then the Elder called for silence.

It was time for the Don to speak.

Alexander stepped onto the platform.

He reviewed profits. Expansion. Alliances.

Then— His gaze found me.

“I want to thank my grandfather,” he said.

“Our family. And my wife, Emma.”

Every eye turned toward me.

“But,” he continued calmly, “tonight, I must announce a difficult decision.”

The room stilled.

“I, Alexander Cole, will be dissolving my marriage to Emma Collins.”

Shock rippled through the hall.

The Elder slammed his cane against the floor.

“Alexander—this is not—” Alexander didn’t look at him.

“Our marriage has been empty for years,” he said coolly.

“Incompatible priorities. No emotional alignment.”

“She chose her independence over her role.”

“Then I met someone who understands what this family needs.”

Someone who places home above ambition.

“And she is carrying my child.”