My Son Picked His Dad's Secret Daughter

My son, Lionello Gabardino, played on the tablet for a while before falling asleep.

I draped a thin blanket over him and picked up the tablet beside me. Then, I opened the Gabardino Famiglia's travel dispatch system.

All private flight routes, private helicopter schedules, and intercity travel records for the famiglia's upper ranks were logged in this internal system.

But out of trust and to maintain stability within the famiglia, I had never once checked Marco Gabardino's private travel records over the past five years.

I scrolled down line by line, and little by little, all the blood seemed to drain from my body.

Every time Marco claimed to be traveling to another city for business, the destination was always the same city. On Valentine's Day, our wedding anniversary, and every other day that held some special meaning to us, he was never by my side.

I had thought he was too busy with work. I'd even felt sorry for him, thinking about how much he had to travel back and forth.

I never knew that Marco, the formidable Don, had been abandoning his wife and son while setting aside the famiglia's endless affairs, all just to rush to another woman's arms in Issarotta.

The door was gently pushed open, and Marco walked in.

When he saw my reddened eyes, he hurried over to the couch and reached out to wipe the tears from my face.

"Why are you crying? Who upset you?" he asked.

He glanced at Lionello, who was sleeping beside me, and instinctively softened his movements. He took out his phone and sent a message.

Less than two minutes later, his assistant, Sergio Esposito, quietly entered the living room. He picked up Lionello and carried him out without a sound.

Marco sat down on the other end of the couch and gently brushed the loose strands of hair away from my temple.

"If something's bothering you, tell me. I'm here for you."

In the past, seeing him so attentive and considerate would have warmed my heart. But now, the pain in my chest was so intense that I could barely breathe. The pregnancy report in my hand had been scrunched into a ball.

Marco noticed what I was doing and was about to ask me about it.

But suddenly, a strong scent of perfume hit me. I recoiled, forcing down the nausea rising in my throat.

"Why do you smell like perfume? You never used to wear any," I said.

When I was pregnant with Lionello, my morning sickness had been very severe. Even now, I couldn't stand the smell of any perfume.

For my sake, Marco had even switched his body wash into an unscented one. He had even ordered his Underboss and Consigliere not to wear men's cologne around me.

But now, an unfamiliar fragrance clung to his collar.

Marco casually lifted his collar and smelled it.

He said, "A friend recommended it. I liked the scent, so I decided to try it. For the next few days, I'll be flying to Issarotta on my private jet to negotiate the famiglia's cut of the arms trade with the local underworld. You'll be home alone, so take good care of yourself and Lionello."

Looking at him, I couldn't help but show a strained smile.

I was already sick of hearing the same excuses. Time and again, he'd relied on the excuse that the journey was perilous to stop me from going with him.

On top of that, he had used the confidentiality of his work to shut down all my questions. Whenever he was away on business, he had even forbidden me from contacting him.

But those so-called business trips had been nothing more than shackles meant to keep me trapped.

Following a chime, a notification suddenly popped up on my phone. It was a new video from Valeria.

"Lucia's Papa is coming home tomorrow. I have to get ready!"

The comments section was full of fans teasing her and sending their blessings.

With tears in my eyes, I angrily threw the crumpled paper into the trash and turned to stare at Marco.

I questioned, "Are you really going to Issarotta to negotiate a deal, or are you going there to be with Valeria?"