He Wanted a Fake Divorce, I Took Our Son to Finland

I had been married to Dante for ten whole years.

In New York's underworld, everyone knew Dante was the Don of the Falcone family. Few knew he'd started out in a minor branch. After our wedding, my father used the Moretti family's money, ports, and connections to help him secure his position, and from then on, our two families were allies.

When I was eight, I watched my mother get gunned down in a back alley by a rival gang while she shielded me. After that, I developed severe PTSD and selective mutism. For five whole years, I wouldn't speak. Through all of it, Dante stayed by my side and swore he would protect me.

Before my father died, he placed me in Dante's care and left him to manage the Moretti family's ports and underground connections in New York.

We'd built a life together over those ten years and had a sweet eight-year-old son, Leo.

But all of that changed the day a woman named Sofia showed up, claiming to be the sister he'd lost 20 years ago.

Today was Leo's eighth birthday. Balloons filled the Falcone estate on Long Island, and Leo, dressed in his little suit, couldn't stop watching the front door.

Dante was three hours late. When he finally walked in, he had his arm around Sofia, the woman who claimed to be his long-lost sister. She was pale and looked so frail that a strong breeze could have blown her over.

"Sorry, Helena. Sofia's blood sugar crashed this afternoon and she passed out, so I took her in for a full workup." Dante shrugged off his coat, his voice soft with concern for her.

Leo ran over and hugged his leg. "Dad, you promised you'd cut the cake with me tonight and give me the model airplane you built for me..."

Sofia suddenly pressed a hand to her chest and coughed weakly, sagging against Dante. "This is all my fault, Dante. If I weren't always so sick, you wouldn't have been late. Leo, please don't be mad at your dad."

Dante caught her at once and turned to Ernesto, our butler. "Get the family doctor upstairs. Have someone bring her hot soup and something with electrolytes, too."

Leo stood frozen, an unlit candle clutched in his small hand, his eyes filling with tears.

Dante knew Leo had waited for him all day, but he took Sofia upstairs first. All he cared about right then was looking after the sister he'd finally gotten back.

I took a deep breath and stepped into his path. "Dante, the doctor is right downstairs, and Ernesto can look after her. Can't you spare even a moment to sing 'Happy Birthday' to your son?"

Dante frowned. "Helena, Sofia spent 20 years out there alone, and she almost went into shock just now. We can celebrate his birthday another day. Don't give her a hard time right now."

With that, he carried Sofia upstairs without a backward glance.

I stood in the large dining room, listening to his gentle voice drift down the stairs as he comforted her.

I turned away and forced back my tears, then crouched down and held Leo while he trembled. When I looked up, I caught sight of Sofia through the banister, leaning on Dante's shoulder and looking down at us.

She was smiling, cold and smug, and a silver necklace swung at her throat.

The pendant was a double-headed eagle, the crest of the rival gang that had killed my mother. My blood ran cold.

I quietly took a photo of the necklace and sent it to Ernesto. An hour later, he replied. The crest was definitely tied to the Cruz family, but he hadn't found anything wrong with Sofia's identity records or her DNA test yet.

I told him to keep digging. For now, I said nothing to Dante.