Forced to Divorce, I Wed the Man He Fears Most

"Sign it, Nina."

The divorce papers were pushed toward me.

Erico Vitale, heir to the most powerful mafia family in Layshire, stood across from me. He was also my husband of more than three years.

"Joanna needs these papers to convince her papa," he said, his tone as flat as if he were commenting on the weather. "The Rosettis control three docks in Layshire. I need their management rights."

My hands in my robe pockets trembled slightly. This was PTSD—a gift leftover from the massacre of the Livignis four years ago.

"So you're divorcing me… just for a few docks?" I heard myself say.

"For the future of the Vitale family," Erico said, circling the table.

He tilted my chin with his fingers and continued, "Sign it. Once I have the docks, Joanna disappears. You'll always be my wife, Nina."

"And what about these past six months?" I asked, looking into his deep blue eyes. "These past six months, you've taken her to every gala and gotten your photos splashed across newspapers, making all of Layshire think that the title of Mrs. Vitale is going to change hands. Was that all an act?"

"They're necessary measures."

He released my chin and pulled a pen from his suit pocket. "You're smart. I'm sure you understand the stakes."

I took the pen, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely hold it.

"Your tremors have gotten worse," Erico remarked with a frown. "You should see a doctor."

"Every time I see news about you and Joanna, the shaking starts," I said frankly. "Maybe the cure is to make those articles disappear."

He chuckled. "Jealous? How cute."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss on my forehead. "Sign it, honey. I'll give you ten days to move out. Joanna moves in after that."

The moment the pen touched the paper, my hand trembled so violently that the name "Nina Livigni Vitale" came out so crooked it looked as if it were struggling for its last breath.

"Bene."

Erico folded the papers and glanced at his watch. "I have meetings tomorrow. And start dinner without me—Joanna's father has invited me."

His footsteps echoed through the empty mansion.

I sat in the morning light, staring at my shaking fingers. Then, I dug my phone out of my pajama pocket.

That number had been sitting in my phone for years, untouched.

"Gian," I said softly. "I have some bad news."

A deep, calm voice answered, "What is it?"

"I got divorced."

Three seconds of silence passed between us before Gian Lucenti spoke again, saying, "Now that you've told me the good news, what's the bad news?"

I almost laughed at his response.

"Erico gave me ten days to move out of his mansion. Does that count as bad news?"

"Hmm… I still think that's considered good news."

"Gian Lucenti!"

"Alright, alright, no more joking," Gian said, chuckling. "Honestly, when I saw your name on the screen, I thought I was hallucinating from lack of sleep. After all, ever since you married into the Vitale family, you cut off all contact with me completely.

"But I get it. Good women don't call their ex-boyfriends after they get married."

Indeed. Gian Lucenti, the current Don of the Lucenti family—one of the oldest mafia bloodlines in Poralia—was my ex-boyfriend.

We'd been together for five years until my family, the Livignis, was destroyed. That was when I married Erico.

"Nina," Gian interrupted my thoughts. "I'm coming to marry you in ten days."

"What?"

"Ten days," he repeated. "If you're willing."