My Don Boyfriend Proposed to Another Woman, I Left

Don't make a scene.

We'd been together for five years.

As a genius hacker, I'd spent those years erasing countless traces that could have gotten him killed and building the underground money network that kept the entire Anderson family afloat.

Now here I was, his real girlfriend, watching everyone celebrate his love for another woman and their engagement.

And all I got was a silent "Don't make a scene."

The hall erupted in applause as everyone cheered and offered their congratulations.

I wasn't stupid enough to rush up and confront him.

Making a scene at a mafia Don's banquet would only get me killed or make me a laughingstock. It was pointless.

I met his eyes and calmly took a step back.

Then I turned and left.

Simon looked stunned for a moment, but he didn't come after me.

He was the head of the Anderson family. With elders from the other families and politicians watching, he had to weigh every move. He couldn't afford to lose his composure.

Outside the yacht, the night wind was brutal. It cut straight through to my bones.

I stood at the edge of the dock, pulled out a spare burner phone, and called my adoptive father, who'd been retired in Eastern Europe for years.

Five years ago, I'd cut ties with my adoptive father for Simon and insisted on living under a false name just to stay by his side, only to trap myself in this gilded cage.

The call connected quickly.

"Kiddo?"

I breathed in the cold air and swallowed the bitterness rising in my chest. "Papa, I made the wrong choice."

The line went silent for a few seconds. Then my adoptive father sighed.

"Did someone hurt you?

"If you've figured it out, come home. I'll always have your back.

"Whatever that punk owes you, don't let him keep a single piece of it."

"I know.

"I'll take back what's mine, and then I'll come home," I said quietly.

If I was going to leave for good, I couldn't just run away in a panic.

When I walked away, every card I'd ever dealt him would go with me.

Just then, an encrypted video call came in.

On the screen, Simon stood by the railing on the sheltered side of the deck, an unlit cigar between his fingers.

He looked at me with mild exasperation and his usual air of superiority. "Lily, did you get back to the estate safely?

"There are too many eyes here. I couldn't come to you just now. You're not dressed warmly enough, and the sea breeze is cold at night. When you get back, ask the kitchen to make you some hot soup. Don't catch a chill."

He was as considerate as ever, as if he weren't the one who'd just put an engagement ring on Alana's finger in that hall.

Phone in hand, I asked quietly, "Simon, why is that ring on her finger?"

That ring was the Anderson family's most important symbol, and there was only one like it.

It was proof of his authority as Don.

He'd once told me that when he went fully legitimate, he'd use that ring to propose to me properly.

Simon paused. His voice took on that patient, coaxing tone.

"Lily, Alana's father is the president of the West Coast port workers' union. I need access to their shipping routes to make the business fully legitimate. It's just a ring, a prop to reassure those old men."

"A prop? Then why did you have to get down on one knee and propose to her in front of everyone?"

Simon frowned. His gaze hardened with the authority he'd grown used to wielding.

"I told you, being with me is too dangerous. This is the best way to protect you. The more she's in the spotlight, the fewer people are watching you.

"Lily, you know this isn't only about protecting you. I can't stand the way those people look at you. You're too charming.

"Lily, don't be stubborn. Once the routes are ours, I'll cut ties with her."

Before he could finish, a girl's soft, slightly tipsy voice came through the video call.

"Simon, everyone's waiting for us to cut the cake. Who are you on the phone with?"

Simon's fingers tightened on the phone for a split second.

But he didn't panic. He calmly turned the camera aside, his voice warm and indulgent. "Okay, baby, I'll be right there."

Then he looked at me on the screen and said in a low voice, half coaxing and half warning, "I won't be home tonight. I have to put on a show for them. Be good and wait for me at the estate. I'll bring you a present when I get back tomorrow."

The screen went black.

Could a so-called decoy really make the Don of the Anderson family sound that tender?

Ever since Simon had become Don, he'd rarely used that doting voice with me.

He said he'd gotten used to sounding serious and dignified in public and couldn't switch back.

He claimed switching between the two tones might also give away the fact that he had a girlfriend.

I stared at the dark screen and let out a bitter laugh.

He wanted it both ways, and he thought I was an idiot.