Chapter 2

Less than ten minutes later, I heard Antonio's hurried footsteps downstairs.

This was truly rare. When I ran a high fever before, he only had Elena bring me fever-reducing medicine.

It seemed like Elena was the key to his haste in handling this.

He hadn't even taken off his suit when he stormed into the bedroom, advancing with a menacing look in his eyes. "You dared to hang up on my call?"

I was folding clothes. I kept my head down and answered softly, "I didn't want to pick up."

He grabbed my wrist with force, making me look him in the eye.

"Just because I told you to shut up? Elena just secured a partnership, and as the Don, I'm celebrating with core members. What's the problem with that?"

His voice grew louder and was filled with anger.

"Do you have any idea how many people saw your comment? Some even guessed she's my mistress! Elena cares about her reputation, and because you mocked her, she cried so much that she fainted!"

"Oh."

I tilted my head, not quite understanding what he was so angry about.

"What does that have to do with me? Am I her mother?"

He snorted angrily.

I slowly continued, "Clearly, everyone thinks that your so-called Consigliere has crossed the line, and that's why they're talking about her."

"Enough!"

He suddenly raised his voice, causing the bodyguards in the hallway to step back.

"Elena is our family's Consigliere. The funds that pass through her every day are more than you've ever seen in your entire life. Here you are, living under my protection with all your luxuries, and you still dare to slander my most trusted subordinate?"

His eyes were filled with disappointment and accusation.

"You live in a villa with hundreds of servants taking care of you, and you have no idea how hard it is working out there. I've spoiled you, and now, out of jealousy, you're defaming Elena, who has always looked after you well. If this happens again, I'll stop your mother's medication."

I looked at his towering figure and suddenly let out a sharp laugh.

"My life is a luxurious one?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and stared at me like I was crazy.

I grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the walk-in closet.

It was full of fine clothing.

But they were all locked in display cabinets.

"Look at these!"

I pointed at the locks on the display cabinets, my voice shaking with anger.

"I'm not allowed to wear anything from here, not even a sock, let alone dresses. Don Antonio, can you tell me which lady out there has to ask permission just to wear her underwear?"

Antonio furrowed his brow. "That's because you always choose clothes that aren't suitable for the occasion."

"Ha! Not suitable?"

I scoffed. "Every 'unsuitable' dress ends up on Elena the next day! Even the most desperate homewrecker in the world wouldn't want my pathetic life!"

I thought I had made myself clear.

But Antonio only appeared confused and impatient.

"So, you made her look bad in public just because of these dresses? Can't you be more considerate?"

The immense feeling of helplessness made my head spin.

I turned away and spoke in an emotionless tone.

"Think whatever you want, but we're still getting a divorce."

Those words enraged him.

Antonio quickly caught up to me and trapped me in his embrace.

"Watch your words, Mrs. Rivera. Don't forget who was the one who arranged the best medical team for your mother."

I bit my lip hard to stop the tears from falling.

How ridiculous. He had arranged the best medical team for my mother, but he didn't even know she had passed away.

"Let me go," I said, my voice trembling.

"I want to leave."

Antonio suddenly laughed. "Divorce? Then what? Will you let your gambler of a father sell you to the next mafia boss?"

His words were like knives stabbing deep into my heart.

Three years ago, it was indeed because my father had fallen into a debt trap and abandoned my sick mother that I was forced into this marriage.

To be precise, I was sold as a debt repayment and sent directly to his bed.

Antonio knew this was my greatest wound, yet he mercilessly exposed it now.

"At least the next person won't be you."

I struggled. "I've already signed the divorce papers."

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, his warm breath sending a chill down my spine.

"You think the divorce is up to you?"

"Remember, darling, there's only one way the wife of a priest leaves her marriage."

I knew exactly what he meant.

Death.

"I'll give you access to the clothes, and as for money, I'll transfer 50 thousand dollars to you every month from my private account. There's no need for any application."

It sounded all too familiar.

He would hurt me first, followed by sweet promises to try to get me to continue being his obedient woman.

If this were before, I would've gratefully accepted.

But now, I was clear-headed.

Money, clothes… Were they really the root of the problem?

He had neglected the one person who truly deserved punishment. Elena.

"I don't need your money." I coldly rejected him.

Antonio narrowed his eyes. "You'd rather risk your mother's medication and watch her die without it?"

That same threat again.

My heart twisted painfully, but I remained calm on the outside. "She'll understand."

He clearly didn't expect that answer. For a moment, I saw panic in his eyes.

It was like he didn't understand why his usual threats didn't work this time.

But his pride wouldn't allow him to beg for reconciliation repeatedly.

He watched as I walked toward the door without a second glance.

Antonio raised his hand. His signal changed from "make her stay" to "let her go".

I remembered a time when I was at headquarters and overheard Elena saying to him, "Don, Mrs. Rivera has been watching romantic dramas lately. Do you think one day she might start arguing with you like a female lead in a romance drama and ask for a divorce?"

She then added, "If it ever gets to that point, just ignore her. Once she realizes how cruel the outside world is, she'll come back to you crying and apologizing."

He probably thought the same thing now.

…

It wasn't until I completely disappeared from his sight that Antonio snapped out of it.

He irritably reached for his cigarette, but instead, he found a small paper packet.

Inside were a few pieces of hard mint candy.

He smoked so heavily that his throat often felt irritated.

I had tried hundreds of different recipes to make him some candy, all just to make him feel a little more comfortable.

He unwrapped a piece and popped it into his mouth. The cool sweetness made him relax, and his furrowed brow smoothed out.

"I'll let her stay out there and have fun for a couple of days," he thought to himself.

I had worked so hard to make him candy. Surely I must love him.