I Was Never His Wife

I did not know Lorenzo had been involved with Bianca Rossi for three months until she appeared in my office herself.

She entered without knocking and placed a black gift box on top of my files. Bianca had once worked at a Vassari nightclub. Recently, Lorenzo had arranged for her to become an intern at the family’s charitable foundation.

“Lorenzo asked me to bring this to you.”

Inside was a pair of cuff links engraved with the Vassari crest.

“He left them at my place last night.”

Bianca touched the blue diamond at her throat, a piece from Lorenzo’s preferred jeweler.

Then she pushed her phone across my desk.

In the photograph, Lorenzo sat in his penthouse with his collar open and two glasses of whiskey beside him. Bianca wore his black shirt, the diamond resting against her bare collarbone.

The picture had been taken at 1:17 in the morning.

Pain tightened across my chest, but I kept my face still.

Lorenzo and I had met at business school. When he returned to Sicily as one of the Vassari family’s least favored heirs, I followed him and became the family’s investment adviser, hiding the fact that I was the daughter of the Mafia Commission Chairman.

Seven years earlier, he had taken me to the family chapel and placed a ring on my finger. Their attorney gave me a sealed marriage certificate and said the legal process was complete. I believed I was Lorenzo’s lawful wife and that only the public ceremony remained.

He promised that once he inherited the Don’s position, he would give me a wedding the underworld would remember.

So I helped him secure financing, ports, shipping routes, and the elders’ votes. I stood beside him until he became the family’s heir.

Then, the night before, I learned about the Donna selection list.

Twelve women. One ring.

I was only a candidate, and my score was lower than Bianca’s.

Bianca took back her phone.

“He has spent quite a few nights at my place this month. A Donna candidate has to prove she knows how to satisfy the future Don.”

I reached for an unsigned investment contract on my desk.

“You are gentler than I am,” I said. “You suit him better.”

I handed her the contract.

Bianca raised her chin. “Lorenzo wants me to start learning the Donna’s responsibilities.”

“Then manage this project.”

She opened the contract and stared at the figures and legal terms.

“What is this?”

“The risk assessment is due in three days. You’ll also need new terms for the banks and port authorities.”

“You’re trying to humiliate me.”

“A Donna receives more than jewelry and a seat at dinner. If you want the position, carry its responsibilities.”

Bianca threw the contract onto the floor and pressed one heel against the page.

“Stop pretending you don’t care. Lorenzo says you’re too controlling. You question him in meetings and behave more like a consigliere than a wife.”

She lifted her chin.

“He needs a gentle, obedient woman, not someone who makes him feel as though he isn’t the Don.”

Those words cut deeper than the photograph.

Lorenzo had once depended on my judgment. Now that he had power, he resented the same strength that had helped him obtain it.

I glanced at the contract beneath Bianca’s heel.

“You’re right.”

Triumph returned to her eyes.

“Giving away something I no longer want to someone desperate to possess it is what I call generosity.”

“The contract is yours.”

“So is Lorenzo.”

Her face darkened.

“You’re just a woman about to be eliminated.”

“If I’ve already lost, why did you come here wearing his clothes and his necklace, carrying a photograph you needed me to see?”

I held her gaze.

“What are you afraid of?”

She grabbed the gift box and hurled it at me.

I moved aside. The box struck the bookcase, scattering the cuff links across the floor. Bianca came around the desk and raised her hand toward my face.

I caught her wrist and slapped her.

The sound cut through the office.

She pressed a hand to her cheek.

“You hit me.”

“That is the consequence of entering my office without permission, destroying project documents, and trying to strike me.”

I released her wrist.

“You can have Lorenzo and the Donna position.”

“But if you come here again, I will not be so restrained.”

Bianca collected her phone and backed toward the door.

“You’ll regret this. Lorenzo will make you pay.”

She slammed the door behind her.

I looked at the scattered cuff links and the contract beneath her heel. The pain remained, but I understood the truth.

Lorenzo had loved my strength when it could win him everything. Now that his position was secure, he wanted me quiet and obedient, as though I had not been the one holding him upright during the climb.