Chapter 4

Someone entered the security code without a moment's hesitation.

Mia walked in carrying a folder, looking so comfortable that anyone might have mistaken her for the lady of the house.

My fingers curled into fists.

"How do you know our door code?"

She came closer with a little smile.

"You were in the hospital for a while. The Don got drunk one night because he was upset, so I stayed to look after him for a few days."

Carlo's voice cut through the room.

"Mia. Leave the documents and go."

She glanced at the paper scraps scattered across the floor and sighed.

"Throwing me out already? Don't you want the photograph back?"

She pulled an ultrasound printout from her bag.

It was crumpled, with creases running across the image.

I snatched it from her hand.

"Who gave you permission to treat it like this?"

Mia shrugged, without a trace of regret.

"I just wanted to check how the baby had been developing for the Don. I wrinkled it by accident."

Then she had the nerve to lecture me.

"You should be grateful, Madison. He's been more than generous with you. Another man would've divorced you already."

I pressed the photograph against my chest.

"Am I supposed to thank him for accusing me of something I never did?"

As my voice rose, Carlo stepped between us.

"That's enough, Mia. Stop talking."

Mia swayed slightly, then gave a resigned nod.

"Fine. If you're determined to defend her, I won't get involved anymore."

She shoved the folder into his hand and left without looking back.

After everything that had happened, I had no energy left to fight.

I held out the divorce agreement.

"Carlo. Sign it."

His eyes swept over the document, turning cold and dangerous.

"Madison, stop this. I only asked Mia to deliver some papers."

"This has nothing to do with Mia."

He stared at the agreement as if I'd cornered him. Then he ripped it from my hand, locked it inside his safe, and spoke with absolute authority.

"Whatever you've done, I'm not divorcing you."

That night, Carlo stayed in his study for hours.

I couldn't sleep. When I got up to fetch some water, I heard him speaking to Mia on the phone through the partly closed study door.

"Don Moretti, she cheated on you," Mia pleaded. "Why are you still keeping her?"

Carlo was leaning back in his black leather chair.

"Madison has been with me for five years. She made one mistake. I'm willing to give her another chance."

"And what about the divorce papers? She's threatening to leave. Aren't you worried she actually will?"

I saw him look at our wedding photograph on the desk.

He gave a dismissive snort.

"The power, the status, everything that comes with being a Mafia Donna? Who would walk away from that?"

I smiled to myself, full of contempt.

Carlo, you couldn't have been more wrong.

I had never cared about the lofty title of Donna. And I was more than ready to walk away from you.

I went back to the bedroom and packed my suitcase.

Carlo heard the noise and came in scowling.

"What are you doing?"

I didn't look up. I zipped the suitcase and headed for the door.

"Moving out."

He stepped in front of me, panic flashing in his eyes.

"Why? Are you really that desperate to run away with him?"

I looked up at the face I'd loved for five years.

For the first time, he seemed like a complete stranger.

Carlo still loved me in his own way. But his love was soaked in suspicion. It came with condescension and pity, as if he were doing me a favor.

I shook my head.

"What are you going to do when you find out there is no other man?"

He held my gaze.

"I'll make it up to you. Money. The docks. A share of the family businesses. Whatever you want, as long as you stay."

A bitter smile touched my lips.

"And after you've paid me off? I'm supposed to keep pretending I'm happily married to a man who doesn't trust me?"

He froze. Then anger surged into his face, a vein standing out at his temple.

I pushed past his outstretched arm, walked out of the house, and climbed into the taxi I'd already booked.

Carlo's pride wouldn't let him follow me.

He was so sure I was only acting out, so sure I'd never really leave.

He stood a few yards away, barely controlling his anger.

"You can move out," he called. "But when the test results come in, you will come back here."

Just before the taxi pulled away, I rolled down the window.

"I'm never coming back."