The Don Lost Me

“I’m sorry, Ms. Graves. There’s no marriage on record for you in our system.

“Mr. Moretti did get married five years ago, but his spouse is Ms. Gianna Romano.”

The sun was blazing down on me, yet I was so cold I couldn’t feel a trace of warmth.

Three days earlier, I’d received a Moretti family meeting record. It said Dante Moretti and Gianna Romano had formally become husband and wife.

The date was five years ago—the same day I married Dante.

I’d assumed the record was a mistake. That was why I’d come to the marriage registry, to prove that I was Dante’s wife.

But the truth was right in front of me. My five years as his wife had been a lie.

While I was still in a daze, a text came in from Dante.

“Something came up at work. I’ll come home and spend time with you as soon as I’m done. Love you.”

I stared at the message on the screen and thought about how, for five years, every text he’d ever sent me had ended with “Love you.”

His love burned so fiercely, as if it had never once dimmed.

When I first met Dante, I was a world-renowned pianist. Tickets to my tours were nearly impossible to get, and cultural ministries from every country competed to invite me.

He was the quietest listener in my audience. He sat in the front row at every single one of my performances.

He told me that the first time he heard me play Chopin, he knew I was the only woman he’d ever marry.

But the Moretti family had long since saved that place for Gianna. She’d taken a knife for Dante and saved his life.

Everyone assumed she’d be the one to marry him.

Yet Dante chose me, a woman who played the piano and had nothing to do with the mafia.

I thought that was love.

I never imagined it was a dream that would last five years.

Almost without realizing it, I took a cab to Gianna’s villa on the outskirts of the city.

Laughter drifted from the garden.

I stepped closer, and through the screen of branches, I saw a scene that broke my heart.

Gianna was sitting on a garden swing, gazing down at Dante, her eyes creased into a smile.

Dante was down on one knee in front of her, opening a silk-lined box.

Inside was an emerald ring.

Gianna covered her mouth, her voice trembling with delight. “Isn’t... isn’t this the ring your family passes down to the Donna? Am I really worthy of wearing it?”

Dante took out the ring and gently slid it onto her ring finger.

“You can have everything.”

I stared at that ring and remembered how, after the stage accident, Dante had canceled the wedding photos and the wedding I’d been looking forward to for so long.

I didn’t even get a plain band.

He’d told me, “Gianna didn’t mean to do it. I owe her my life. I can’t send her to prison.

“But I promise you, from now on, she’ll never appear in front of you again.

“Let’s keep a low profile for now. Once all this blows over, we’ll do the photos and the wedding properly.”

I didn’t trust Gianna, but I trusted Dante.

So I didn’t think twice. I signed the sworn declaration in front of the clerk he’d brought in.

He knelt before me and swore he’d only ever love me.

But now the Donna’s ring belonged to Gianna, and so did the title of his lawful wife.

I watched the two of them kiss in the garden, and the last bit of warmth in my fingertips finally drained away.

Only after Dante’s Rolls-Royce Phantom disappeared at the end of the road did I stumble away from the villa in a daze.

My phone buzzed, and I numbly lit up the screen.

“On my way home. Can’t wait to spend our fifth anniversary with you. Love you.”

I laughed, but tears fell without warning, splashing onto the screen and blurring the words “fifth anniversary.”

That fifth anniversary was his and Gianna’s, not mine.

After the accident, I went through a long stretch of treatment and canceled all my tours.

Dante was the one who got me through those painful days.

He was also the one who, on those same nights, slept beside Gianna.

Now it was time for the fake wife to face reality.

I fought back the sting in my eyes, took out my phone, and opened an email I’d received three days earlier—an invitation from the Aurellian Ministry of Culture to apply for citizenship through its exceptional talent program.

I tapped “Accept.”

A line of text popped up on the screen: Confirmed. All procedures will be completed within seven days.

Seven days from now, Alina Graves would no longer exist in this country.